Page 272 of The Fall

“Oh, he walked all around the house with them, stomping around in his skate guards like he was a baby horse.”

A groan escapes me. I turn my head on the pillow to protest, but the look on Blair’s face stops me. His eyes shine, and he drinks in every detail about mini-me discovering hockey. Dad paints pictures of the kid I used to be, and Blair revels in each story, holding on to me like he wants to reach through time and wrap his arms around that stubborn little boy. Dad describes how I’d beg for “one more hour” of ice time, and I can’t look away from Blair. He meets my eyes, ocean-blue depths sparkling with what he doesn’t need to say:I would have loved you then, too.

Dad chuckles, settling back in his chair. “And then there was his gear bag incident. You were what, six?”

I close my eyes and sigh heavily; I wouldn’t trade this for all the gold in the world.

“You got a brand-new gear bag for your birthday, and after all the cake and the ice cream and the games, I went to tuck him in, and there he was, curled up next to that gear bag in his bed as if it were a stuffed animal. Had his arm draped right over it, face against the side, sound asleep.” Dad gives a small shake of his head, and Blair kisses my cheek.

“Dad, you’re enjoying this.”

“Maybe a little.” His expression shifts, his teasing melting as he reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “But mostly I’m enjoying having my son here to be embarrassed. More than that, I’m enjoying seeing you happy.”

“Dad…”

His hand lingers on my shoulder a beat longer before he lets go. He leans back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, content for now to simply be here with me; no, with us.

My eyes grow heavy. I want to stay in this moment with Blair’s hand in mine and my father keeping watch, but exhaustion pulls at me.

“You should rest,” Dad says, his voice soft. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

The last thing I register is Blair’s breath against my hair and Dad leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, settling in for the long haul.

When I surface again, the room is darker with evening shadows lying across the floor. Dad’s still there, reading on a tablet, his glasses perched on his nose. Blair is asleep in the bed with me, absolutely unconscious and drooling into my collarbone.

I blink, trying to orient myself. “Hey,” I rasp.

Dad looks up immediately, setting the tablet aside. “Welcome back.”

“How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.” He reaches for a cup of water on the side table and helps me take a sip. “Blair finally slept right after you closed your eyes. He’s been…” He trails off, fatherly love directed at Blair. “That man loves you, Torey.”

“He does,” I say quietly.

Dad settles back in his chair, studying us both. “When you were growing up, all I wanted was for you to find someone who’dcherish you.” He rubs his palms together, voice dropping. “You did.”

Blair’s breathing shifts, and I feel the exact moment he starts to surface. His fingers flex against my waist before his eyes flutter open.

“Hey,” he murmurs. He lifts his head, blinking slowly as he focuses on my face. “You okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m good.” I run my thumb along his jaw; it’s so natural, even with my father watching. “You were drooling on me.”

Blair’s cheeks flush red, and he quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I?—”

“I don’t mind.” I kiss his nose. “Go back to sleep.” I squeeze Blair’s hand. There’s a peace in this room I’ve never experienced before, and I don’t want it to shatter.

“The nurses came in to check on you,” Dad says. “The doctors will be by first thing in the morning.” He stands and stretches, his back cracking. “I’ll go get us all some decent food. Hospital sandwiches don’t cut it.”

When he leaves, Blair carefully shifts to sit up. I drink in the sight of him, his dark hair mussed from sleep, his eyes clear again. “Your dad’s been amazing,” he says softly.

“I never thought...” I swallow. “I didn’t expect this.”

Blair takes my hand in his. “He wants you happy, Torey. That’s what we talked about while you slept.”

“What did you say to him?”

“I told him I love you,” he says. “That I’d love you and take care of you for the rest of our lives, if you’ll have me.” His eyes search mine, vulnerability in every line of his face. “You—you don’t have to answer.” His voice dips. “But I wanted your dad to know.”