Page 43 of Fanboy in the Falls (Devon Falls #3)

Just to be clear, I’ve loathed plenty of people in my lifetime. —Colin Templegate

Plus, I’m not afraid to take down some queerphobic motherfucker with a quick throat punch if it comes to that.

Northern Stars Winery is already bumping when we pull up to the parking lot in front of the main building and tasting room.

Most of the other cars there, though, are at the other end of the lot, next to the old barn that’s attached to the inn: the new event space, which is what everyone’s celebrating tonight.

The walkway to the space is decorated in solar lights, the trees dotting the walkway are strung up with fairy lights—I’m never touching another one of those fuckers again as long as I live—and the whole pathway looks magical, almost ethereal.

My eyes drift past the walkway across the tall roof of the inn, to the windows of the rooms that Tom, Gabe, and I refurbished together after that fire.

I’m proud of a lot of things in my life.

I’m proud of my championship titles. My race wins.

The relationship I had with my brother, and the deep friendships I built across years of time.

But I’m not sure I’ll ever be prouder of anything than this inn, this place that I put back together with two people as they put me back together.

I look over at Gabe and Tom, and I find them staring at the same spot: the window of the room where Tom burst the pipe in the wall. Gabe grins. “You know why I had to run into the lake that day?"

Tom cocks an eyebrow. “Tell us.”

Gabe laughs. “You two got soaked, and I was so turned on I panicked. I didn’t want either of you to see. It was like I was back in seventh grade, using math books to cover my hard-on.”

Tom bursts out laughing, and I just smile and shake my head. “No more hiding,” I tell him softly.

Gabe looks from the inn over to the winery building and the pathway leading to the large yard space behind it. “No more hiding,” he whispers. He swallows. “And actually, on that subject, there’s something I need to talk to the two of you about before I see Dave.”

Tom frowns. “Tell us, little fox.”

“Okay. So. Maybe this thing with Dave won’t go well.

But if it does, and I end up getting custody of Lou or at least keeping him in my life…

” He worries his lower lip with his teeth.

“I mean, if the three of us keep doing what we’re doing, you two would sort of become, like, parents?

Kind of? And that’s a lot of responsibility, and I don’t want either of you to feel like—”

“Hey, stop.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Take a breath, okay? Let the two of us say something here.” I look over at Tom.

Do you feel the way I do?

He gives me a short nod, just like I knew he would.

“Gabe,” I say, “I know I speak for Tom when I say that neither of us ever planned to be parents.”

Tom lets out a high laugh. “Definitely not. My house in LA has approximately one thousand child death traps built into it. There’s a circular staircase with no handles, for goodness’ sake.

” He smiles. “But now I’ll speak for both of us.

” I nod, and he goes on. “Sometimes, little fox, paths appear in your life that you never saw on a map. Then you step onto one of them, and you know that path is exactly where you’re supposed to be. ”

Gabe blinks fast. “Oh. Yeah. So you’re saying…”

“We’re saying we’re all in,” I add quickly. “All in on you and Lou. One hundred percent, little fox. Lou’s one-of-a-kind, and we both care about him a lot. I don’t think either of us can imagine life without him anymore.”

Tom shakes his head. “Goodness, no. He hasn’t even finished teaching me all the songs in Frozen yet. I’ve barely mastered the one about the snowman, and I think my harmony is off.”

Gabe laughs out loud. Then he shakes his head.

“I still don’t know what I did to deserve you two,” he mumbles.

“I do,” I tell him. “You bring light to the universe, little fox.”

“Quite right.” Tom nods and gently squeezes Gabe’s other shoulder. Then Gabe takes a deep breath, and we start walking again, our pace slow as Gabe moves back and forth between grass and pavement on his crutches.

The whole winery property is really well-lit, because Bethany and Evelyn have got their shit together when it comes to details like that, and it’s easy for the three of us to find our way to the back of the building, next to the large porch where I saw Gabe and Tom kiss for the first time.

I wonder: if Gabe and Tom and I are together until old age, will I still remember that as the first moment when everything changed for us?

And there’s Dave. The man I loathe.

Just to be clear, I’ve loathed plenty of people in my lifetime. I was a fucking race car driver, for hell’s sake. I’ve hated announcers who trashed my driving choices, fellow drivers who crashed into me while making dumbass moves, and friends who took spots on teams I wanted to work with.

But I’ve never hated someone for very long.

I’ve got a pretty short temper and memory when it comes to anger.

I get pissed, I get over it. Pretty simple.

Still, I’m pretty sure I’m going to hate this asshole until the end of my days.

I see him standing there, next to the lake, between two benches covered in fake grapevines, and I immediately want to walk to him and pull him up by his shirt.

I want to demand to know who the hell he thinks he is to try and make two amazing people like Gabe and Lou feel like lesser humans in any kind of way.

Fuck that. Fuck Dave.

“You’re snarling,” Tom whispers to me.

“So?”

“So while you snarling is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, bestie, you may want to tone it down just slightly. Gabe told us he wants to keep this civil.”

I look over at Gabe, and I watch the way he straightens up on his crutches and stands tall as he nods at his former stepfather. “Hi, Dave,” he says.

Dave clears his throat. “Hey, kid.” His eyes narrow as he looks over to me and Tom. “You didn’t mention they’d be coming.”

Tom smiles. “Worried I might get some queer on you?” he asks lightly.

“So much for civil,” I whisper to him as Dave’s face turns red.

He’s shorter than I expected, maybe five-four, with a wide frame and a head that seems just a little too small for his body.

He’s got the same hair and eyes as Lou, the same pale skin, and he’s wearing a polo and jeans with a hat bearing the logo of Montreal’s hockey team.

I wonder if he knows that team hosts an epic Pride night. I know, because Tom took me once.

Dave cocks an eyebrow at me. “Couldn’t believe it when I read that article,” he said. “You’re like, a legend, man. Racing championships, all that shit. Is this really the way you want the world to remember you?”

I take a deep breath. No throat punching allowed. Gabe said so, I remind myself. “Do I want to be remembered as a man who had the privilege of loving two of the best people in the entire world? Sounds like one hell of a legacy to me,” I tell him. Dave’s eyes darken.

“I didn’t come here to meet with you two f—fuckers,” Dave says, and the word he chose not to say hangs in the air just as heavily as it would have if he’d said it. “I came here to talk to the kid.”

I open my mouth even though I’ve got absolutely no idea what’s about to come out of it, but Gabe answers Dave first. “I’m not ‘the kid,’” he says steadily.

“And they’re my boyfriends.” Dave bristles at the word, but he doesn’t respond.

“If you want to talk to me,” Gabe goes on, and he’s so fucking calm and relaxed I want to cheer out loud for him.

He’s not going to let Dave get to him; that’s clear.

“Then you talk to them, too. So tell me what you want, Dave. Why are we here?”

Dave shifts back and forth on his sneakers.

“Listen,” he finally says. He looks directly at Gabe, ignoring me and Tom.

“I know Lou worships the ground you walk on, Gabe. And I’ll be real with you: I’m really fucking struggling to be the dad he probably deserves these days.

But I can’t just hand him over to you either.

I don’t fucking understand any of this, okay?

You’re really telling me you’re sure you’re into guys now?

And you’re dating two of them? None of it makes sense to me, Gabe.

” He shakes his head. “Your mom was too soft on you. My boys always told me that,” he mutters under his breath, as I contemplate how many ways I might be able to avoid doing time if I decide to kill his boys.

Gabe frowns and tilts his head. “Dave, you were my stepfather for years. You loved my mother; I know you did. You bought me my first baseball glove and cheered me on at my first play. And then you left me on the curbside, all alone, after my mother died, probably because those ‘boys’ of yours thought I might not turn out to be exactly like you. Or them.”

Dave opens his mouth, like he might be about to argue.

Then he stops and looks away. Seems like he’s got no argument to give there, and my heart cracks open as I once again imagine a grieving, teenage Gabe, all alone with a social worker, watching the father figure he grew up with drive away with his little brother in the backseat.

Gabe clears his throat. “So tell me, Dave,” he finally says softly. “Why did you have to understand me, why did I need to be exactly like you, for you to just love me?”

We all hear the break and the drop in his voice.

I fight the urge to rush to him and hold him, and I can feel Tom holding himself back next to me.

He’s not alone this time. He has us, and he knows that.

We just need to keep standing strong for him while he says all the things he’s never said to Dave before.

The question stumps Dave, that much is easy to see. His eyes go wide, and his mouth drops slightly. He’s silent for a long moment, and then he clears his throat.