Page 61 of Lost Boy
My bedroom is more down the hall, and as soon as I open the doors, my eyes zero in on a dark blue fleece-covered bean bag.
“Would ya look at the size of that sac,” I admire out loud, in complete awe. Somehow mine is even bigger than the others. I can’t believe they did that. This had to be custom-made. Good thing my bedroom is the size of two because this thing is damn near the size of a car.
Fallon snorts a laugh again, and I smile widely, proud that I continue to make him feelsomething. That’s what matters. Because when the time comes for him to read the letter from his father that’s burning a hole in the bottom of my jewelry box, I already know he’ll need to confront his emotions head-on. But now isn’t the time to think about that.
“Nap?” I ask because even though we dodged Cole’s meat, we ate his muffins, dipping out before ten. So I’m full and exhausted. I know Fallon is too. “We can share.”
His steely blue eyes dart to the bean bag, then back to me. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
I need to decide what I want. We haven’t even talked about what thisis. But I had my fingers in his ass last night, and now we’re about to spoon on a king-sized bean bag. We should probably talk soon. And it’s going to be me that initiates the conversation, that much is clear.
* * *
I wake to Fallon missing and the soft sounds of an acoustic guitar strumming a few rooms away. I slip out of bed and tiptoe down the hall. The closer I get, the more haunting the melody becomes. Beautiful, but with an edge. Restless. It’s absolutely amazing, and I know it has to be Fallon with his dad’s guitar.
I peek around the doorframe of the bonus room, observing him in silence. Fallon sits on the edge of the couch, playing with his eyes closed, completely lost to the music. And then he starts to hum. Low and edgy. I give him a little whistle to cheer him on but startle him instead, and he misses a chord, the guitar screeching.
“What are you doing, Ry?”
“Listening to you play. Amazingly, might I add.”
Fallon ducks his head, mumbling out, “Thanks.”
“You’re amazing,” I repeatagain. “The way your fingers dance along the strings? Fuck, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Keep going, please.”
Fallon combs his fingers through his blue and black hair, the dirty blond roots starting to show. When I first realized that he’s a blondie under there. . .Oof.Yeah. I think I’m gonna need to see that natural look sometime.
“Do you sing?” I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that already.
He nods once. “Yeah. And write.”
It’s impressive. “I’d love to hear something if you want to share. Pretty sure everyone at the bonfire wanted more,” I say with a chuckle.
He eyes me, considering his options. “Okay, just a little.” He chews on his lip ring and taps his fingertips against the body of the guitar. It’s nearly as shiny and blue as his brightly colored hair.
I know Joel had the guitar cleaned, tuned, and restored before giving it to Fallon. And my dad bought a brand new case. I still need to take him to the record store. Sofie will want to come too.
“Okay. This is one that I’ve felt most comfortable with for a while. It’s the chorus and part of the first verse.”
Fallon starts the haunting melody that pulled me from sleep, adding lyrics this time. His soft, raspy voice is soothing yet abrasive. Calm yet a raging storm. He sings about the sheer destruction of his soul. Painful memories. Loss. Regret.
Holy shit, it’s heavy.
But the melody is even more beautiful, his words pouring from his heart like a tidal wave, sweeping me off my feet.
His soul is so real. So raw.So authentic.
Fallon ends his vocal performance but continues strumming, finishing the song with just the guitar. He’s still getting used to speaking and opening up more. This is huge progress, and I don’t expect more.
I grit my teeth, thinking about how alone he’s been and wishing I could have been there sooner. But I’m here now, and I’ll pull him out of the fog. He’s already starting to feel again. I can see it. Fuck, I justheardit.
“Holy shit, Blue. That was fucking incredible. Your voice is curl-my-toes and come-in-my-pants sexy.”
He’s chewing on that lip again, and I quickly glance behind me, then back to him.
“They left. Went for lunch,” he says, reading my mind.
