Page 25 of Resisting You

Renato just raised a brow, and as pissed as Frey wanted to get, he supposed it was fair.

“I just…his birth was really traumatic. And right after he came home, my husband left me.” Fuck, Frey had no idea why he was telling Renato all of this.

Renato’s eyes widened. “He left you?”

“He was my surrogate baby, but Jace was going to adopt him. Then the hearing had been postponed since he was so sick,” Frey told him. It felt strange and almost cathartic to tell all of this to a man who didn’t like him—who never went out of his way to give Frey platitudes. “Jace had this idea about what our family was supposed to look like, you know? Young, hot dads with this perfect little kid. We’d have beach vacations and take model-worthy photos to post on his fucking Instagram.” Frey swallowed against a tight throat. God, he hadn’t talked about this in so long. “Rex went deaf before he was released from the hospital. They said we wouldn’t really know the extent of how much hearing loss until he was older, but they said it was likely profound. One of the nurses told us we should start an ASL class right away.”

“Of course,” Renato said, like that was obvious, and Frey wanted to laugh because that had not been Jace’s reaction.

“Jace started contacting doctors about cochlear implants.” He rubbed a hand down his face. “Rex’s doctors said a procedure like that wasn’t going to be safe for a long time. His heart was weak, and he was going to need another surgery for it. Maybe more than one. I couldn’t risk it.”

Renato’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

Frey licked his lips, then glanced back down at his son. He looked stronger now than he had as an infant. Back then, he’d seemed so fragile, like one wrong move and he’d just…disappear. His chest ached with an old pain that would never go away.

“I was already so in love with my kid. The second I saw him, I knew this was it for me. I didn’t give a shit that I had to learn a new language. But it destroyed everything Jace saw for his future.” Frey shrugged and flopped his hands to his sides. “When adoption was delayed because of his treatments, Jace used that time and filed for divorce.”

Renato sucked in a breath and muttered something in Italian that definitely sounded like a curse word. “That was cruel.”

“Yeah.” Frey laughed bitterly and dragged his fingers through his hair. “But it was also for the best. Jace was never going to be a good dad for him. I was only freaked-out because I thought they’d take him away from me if I didn’t have a second parent, but he was mine. I mean, biologically. The moment he was well, I took him home to a half-empty house, and we started our little family together.”

Renato’s face was impassive, but he looked down at Rex, then nodded. “You are one of the best dads I have ever come to know.”

Frey had no idea what to say. And he wasn’t sure that Renato had any clue what it meant to Frey to hear that. His heart felt oddly shattered, but…almost in a good way.

It took him a moment to answer. “It gets lonely, you know. Being a single dad. I’m gay, and a lot of other gay men don’t really want the whole kids thing. Which I get.”

“It’s why you have your reputation,” Renato said.

His tone wasn’t cruel, but the words hurt, and Frey took a moment to answer. He managed something like a smile. “I guess, yeah.” Once again, he wanted to spill the truth, but the words died at the back of his tongue. He didn’t know what was more pathetic: to be known as the hospital whore or the pathetic loser who pretended to go on dates but instead read books for a few hours and let everyone think people were interested in him.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Renato said softly.

Frey shook his head. “The other night, you told me you knew who you were—what people thought about you. Well, I do too, and it is what it is.” He set his hand on Rex’s leg, and he twitched, but he didn’t wake up yet. “The only thing that matters to me is that he grows up happy and knows that I will be in his corner no matter what. Even if he turns into some weird clown serial killer—I’ll go down with him.”

Renato made a soft noise that might have been considered a laugh, but he wasn’t smiling. He nodded again, then took a step back. “I’ll come check up on him in a little while. I’d like to keep him overnight just to make sure there are no adverse effects from the anesthesia on his heart.”

Frey’s nerves kicked off again, but he knew it was just a precaution. Rex was healthy. He was strong. He would be fine.

“Call me if you need anything,” Renato said. “You have my number.”

And oh, hell. He did. But he was pretty sure it was going to take a miracle for him to use it.

Chapter Seven

Renato took a long sip of his coffee, the taste of it rich and satisfying. Across the table, he could feel his brother-in-law staring at him, but he kept his gaze firmly on the little plate of sugar cubes between them. Auden took his coffee like most Americans—full of cream and sugar until it no longer tasted like coffee at all.

But it was probably the only real red flag the man had. He was there for Renato when most of Grady’s family had shut him out. Renato understood, of course. He’d never really been close with Grady’s parents, and after he passed, he knew he was nothing more than a reminder of what they’d lost.

But it had gutted him to lose everything, so when Auden showed up at his door with a bottle of whiskey and a supermarket bag full of Kleenex and let him get drunk and messy three weeks after the funeral, it had solidified their friendship in ways nothing else ever could.

“You’re being cagey today.”

Cagey. He didn’t entirely recognize the word, but it sounded like it meant suspicious, which was fair, if he wanted to be honest. His world felt…strange. Shifted. And it was all Frey’s fault. He did his best not to blame the guy because it wasn’t like he was trying to upend Renato’s world, but he had.

Renato had been off-kilter since the police had threatened to arrest him for trying to help the Deaf man at the hospital, and then it spiraled from there. He knew that there was something about Frey he didn’t understand—something that people didn’t talk about.

He hadn’t realized just how much he’d been through.

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