Page 68 of Winning You
Fallon swallowed heavily, then opened his arms. Frankie pulled him close, squeezing hard enough to make Fallon’sbreath gasp—just the way he’d always liked. The way he’d always needed. The pressure kept him grounded.
“Plenty of people get locked into abusive relationships,” Frankie murmured when he let go. “This isn’t because you’re not brave or incapable.”
Fallon bit his lip. “He hurt me. A lot. First, he’d say really nasty stuff to make me upset so he could comfort me. I didn’t realize what he was doing right away, but…but a friend saw it. Charlie came with me on a shoot for engagement photos, and he was being nasty. I think he was getting braver because he didn’t use to behave like that in front of other people.”
Frankie curled his fingers into fists, reminding himself once more that he’d be no good to anyone if he was in jail.
“That’s when I started to really notice how he was. It got worse at home after that. That’s…that’s when I started talking to you and Fen about it.”
Frankie nodded as he bowed his head. A small part of him wanted to shout at his brother for putting up with it, but he knew that was just misplaced anger. None of it was Fallon’s fault.
“Do you think I’m a?—”
“I think you’re brave,” Frankie interrupted, lifting his head. “I think you’re incredibly smart. You know you are. You’re creative and loyal and brave…”
“You already said brave,” Fallon said, a very small smile playing at his lips.
Frankie nodded. “Yes. And you’re brave. And did I mention you’re brave?—”
“So annoying,” Fallon said, shoving him back.
Frankie laughed and walked back around to finish the salad. “I’m just trying to make sure you get it. Someone hurting you doesn’t reflect in any way on who you are as a person. It just means they’re fucking scum.”
“That’s a gross word. I don’t like how it feels in my mouth,” Fallon said.
Frankie added that to his mental list of words that Fallon hated for no other reason other than the way they felt when he shaped them on his lips. Slice was a big one. Scrub. And flat. Now scum.
“Okay, dickhead. Asshole. Piece of shit?—”
“I get the point,” Fallon said, his cheeks going pink. He’d never been much into swearing. “And logically, I know that. But sometimes I feel like…like I’m an easy target. Because I don’t always get it right away. It takes me twice as long with twice as much effort to see it, and then when I do, I’m scared to give it up because what if it means I’ll never be with anyone ever again?”
“But you know that’s not true, right?” Frankie asked, setting the knife in the sink and scooping the salad into a plastic tub.
Fallon bit his lip. “I don’t know. People look at me and think, Oh, there’s some nerdy dude with his glasses and his camera. And that’s fine. Then they talk to me, and they’re like, oh, your voice sounds weird. Oh, you have girly hands.”
Frankie’s brows dipped. “People said that shit to you?”
“Lots of people have said a lot of things.” Fallon rubbed the back of his neck. It had been a replacement stim he’d developed after a teacher had punished him for hand-flapping. Frankie had lost his mind at the guy, but by then, it was too late, and Fallon was too self-conscious to do what came naturally to him.
“Well, a lot of people are full of shit.”
“Yes, but you don’t understand. I…I feel like someday I’ll find a person who loves me for me. They’re not going to look at me like I’m some girl playing dress-up or whatever. But maybe I won’t.”
Frankie was already goddamn sure that wasn’t true. The way Gage had looked at him was the way Frankie had looked at Lucas. It was new, uncertain, full of want, and very profound.But he was also aware Fallon hadn’t noticed, and he was now aware, too, that Gage wasn’t ready for something like a relationship.
So he bit his tongue.
“Just promise me you won’t lose hope.”
Fallon sighed. “I don’t believe in hope. Things happen, or they don’t. Hoping for something you can’t control is exhausting.”
“Okay, Plato,” Frankie said, turning to put everything back the way he could as best as he was able to remember. “Enough philosophy for one evening. Just don’t write off the opportunity to be loved by a good person if one comes along just because the last guy was a douche.”
“Onions on the second shelf. To the right,” Fallon corrected. He waited until Frankie obeyed him, then said, “And I won’t.”
“Good.” Frankie grabbed the salad bin and started around the counter, but Fallon stopped him, putting a hand up.
“Are you going to admit out loud you have a giant crush on your neighbor and want to put your mouth on his mouth?”
