Page 61 of Chasing You

Adele shook his head, but mostly because he was lost. He couldn’t keep up with the relationship dynamics of that generation. Talking stage? What the fuck did that mean?

“We just had our two month,” Gage said with a sniff. “He got me a freaking Reese’s!”

“Peanut butter and chocolate is definitely serious,” Adele said with a nod.

Gage swiped his sleeve under his nose and sniffed loudly. “Right! He sent me this text about how I was the love of his life and how he couldn’t wait for us to go apartment hunting.”

Adele’s stomach gave a lurch. Apartment hunting in Savannah. He’d been trying to forget. “I’m sorry,” Adele eventually said. He had no idea what the etiquette for this was.

Gage laughed. “I know this probably sounds so ridiculous?—”

“No,” Adele said, interrupting his son before he could go on. “It sounds awful. It sounds like on a day you already felt like crap, he hurt you even worse, and that’s not okay.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I’m acting like a giant baby?”

Maybe he was, but Adele had no leg to stand on when it came to shitty reactions about relationships. His own status with Kash was unclear, they hadn’t done anything together since deciding that they were in a pre-relationship or however Kash wanted to define it, and while he was thrilled that his feelings were out there, that didn’t change the fact that it was still one big mess.

“I think you’re hurt, and you’re allowed to feel how you feel.”

Gage settled back against Adele and wrapped his arms around his middle. “That’s what Kash said.”

A little spark ran up Adele’s spine at the mention of his name. “Yeah? You talked to him about this?”

“He was home when I came in, and he noticed something was wrong. He set me up here on the couch and told me that it wasn’t immature to be confused and upset. He said that he’s been dealing with relationship stuff too.” Gage glanced up at him. “He means you, right?”

Adele had been resolved not to say anything until he and Kash were sure this was a forever thing on both their ends because he didn’t want to do that to Gage. He knew how much his son loved Kash. “It’s complicated.”

Gage rolled his eyes. “Love is the worst. You didn’t turn him down, did you? You’re not being a Braedon right now, are you?”

Adele laughed at how quickly his son had turned his ex into an unkind verb. “No. I didn’t turn him down.”

“Because you’re in love with him, right?”

Adele closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the couch cushion. “Yes, I’m in love with him.” The words were hard to say, but he wasn’t about to start lying to his son when it came to important things. And Kash was oneof the most important things in his life and always would be.

Gage sighed. “You know he loves you back, right?”

Adele snorted. “Yeah. I know. We did talk. It’s…”

“Complicated,” Gage finished for him. His voice was raspier now. “Dad?”

“Mm?”

“He’s not dying, is he?” Those words came out small and so scared Adele actually sat up and took Gage by the shoulders to look him in the eye. “I don’t think I can handle that.”

“He’s not dying. He’s not fine. He has a disease, and there’s no current cure. There’s barely any kind of treatment, but it’s not terminal. As far as he’s been told right now, it’s not even progressive. He’ll have good days and bad days, but he’ll be with us for a long, long time.”

That felt like an unfair promise because Adele couldn’t actually control that. He was in a job that reminded him weekly, if not daily, that shit happened, and there was no way to stop it. But in that moment, he felt like he actually would be able to tear a hole in the veil between life and death and drag Kash’s soul back into his body if it came down to it.

And the words were worth it when Gage settled back down. “He hasn’t told me anything. I looked some stuff up on Google, but it scared the crap out of me, so I stopped. I was afraid to ask what was wrong.”

“I’ve raised you better than Google medical advice,” Adele chastised.

Gage rolled his eyes, then broke out into another cough. “It’ll tell me I’m dying right now, won’t it?”

“You have twenty-four hours to live,” Adele said solemnly. “Google MD is pretty sure about it. RIP.”

Gage shoved at him weakly, cough-laughing until Adele took pity on him and slid off the couch so he could make him lie down. Gage went easily, his body like a rag doll, and Adele got flashes of when he was younger—when he’d bring home some plague from school and be set up in a little couch nest with hot soup, tea, coloring books, and endless YouTube videos of slime because it was the only thing that didn’t overstimulate him.

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