Surprisingly, they managed to fit everything in the back and trunk of Gabe’s car. It had looked completely out of place sitting on the curb outside such a prestigious hotel. But the banged-up car hadn’t been towed and the doormen had even managed not to look perturbed at its presence.

Joey hadn’t wanted to leave before he’d heard from Raiden to assure him that they were definitely done with his part of the recording. “It’d be a pain to have to turn around and come back again,” Joey joked. “Let alone expensive.”

Gabe got the feeling though he didn’t want to really leave his popstar bubble again. That he wanted to cling to this life until it was torn away from him again.

That made Gabe a little melancholy. To think that Joey was so reluctant to head back to Greenwich. But it wasn’t entirely unexpected, especially after last night. Fucking hell; Gabe had never seen such luxury in all his twenty-seven years.

Joey had reacted strangely to it though. Gabe couldn’t quite work out what had brought on his moment of sadness. Mostly, Gabe had been concerned with pulling him back out of it again, and he’d achieved that with great success, or so he’d like to think.

More than likely, there was always going to be a gulf between them. Joey was pulled by the validation he obviously got from performing. At least, Gabe hoped that was just it, rather than the celebrity status that came with it. He couldn’t be sure though. There was such a gaping hole in Joey’s heart that love from his family should have filled. Joey didn’t seem so shallow that he’d crave adulation from strangers like that. But how well did Gabe really know him?

Gabe would just have to hope that it was the love of the craft that drove Joey. Judging from his exuberance in the recording booth yesterday, it wouldn’t be too hard to imagine that was the case.

Even so, there wasn’t much in the way of stardom to be had back in Greenwich, which probably explained Joey’s quietness on the drive home. Gabe wasn’t exactly feeling chatty himself, if he was honest. He’d also been hoping to extend their stay in the city, even if it was just at a regular hotel. That way they could avoid too many tricky questions about their future, for now anyway.

After several hours, Gabe asked Joey to look up somewhere for them to stay the night.

“Is the car overheating again?” Joey asked in alarm, reaching out to touch the dash.

Gabe smiled over at him. “No,” he said truthfully. He’d topped up the coolant before they’d left the motel Saturday morning, and the car had been running fine since. “It’s just we could push on, and maybe get home by the early hours. Or…”

He glanced at Joey. He was offering another night, just the two of them. Safe away from Joey’s horrible family.

Joey’s eyes sparkled, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll find us something reasonable.”

Of course, Gabe could offer Joey to stay the night at his. A part of him ached to ask him to move in, even if it was just while he looked for a place in New York. But instinct told him not to. That that would be too much too fast for Joey.

Instead, he could offer one more night away from reality. It was the best he could do.

* * *

It was past midday when Gabe strode into the library on Monday. Mitch had given him the whole day off, but once Gabe had dropped Joey back at his family’s place, he hadn’t felt like being alone.

Joey had so obviously not wanted to go in, Gabe had cracked and asked Joey round to his home, just for the afternoon. But Joey had been determined, leaving the car after a quick kiss goodbye.

He’d also insisted Gabe take most of their gifts from Storm Sailor at the hotel. He’d joked that he had nowhere to put them, but Gabe had a suspicion that he was more worried about his dad stealing or wrecking them. Gabe agreed to take pretty much everything, on the understanding he was just holding Joey’s share until he wanted it back.

After he had unpacked and located his skittish cat (under a blanket in the laundry basket) he hadn’t fancied staying alone in his house with his thoughts. He missed Joey already, which was stupid, but he couldn’t help it. They had left it that they’d text, but no firm details of meeting up again.

If Gabe didn’t drop into work, he would just sit on his couch and get in a funk. This way, he could join in with the parent-toddler group and be distracted by hyperactive two-year-olds for an hour.

“Hey, Mitch,” he said. He approached the desk with a wave. “Thanks for feeding Duchess while I was away. If you saw more than her tail disappearing, I’ll be jealous though.” He chuckled at his own little joke, but then he saw Mitch’s grim expression and his mirth dispelled.

“Oh, hey, Gabe,” Mitch said heavily. “I thought you weren’t in until tomorrow.”

Gabe stopped in front of the desk, resting his hands on it. “You know me,” he said cautiously. “Like to keep busy. Is everything okay?”

Mitch clenched his jaw. “Why don’t you step into my office for a moment.”

Dread pooled in Gabe’s stomach. What the hell had happened? Immediately, he thought of all the dreadful things that could have occurred in the few days he’d been absent. Jesus, had something happened to Mitch’s wife, Mary-Lou? Or someone else in his family?

Worry was already eating him up as he sat down in Mitch’s pristine office. Tidiness was ingrained in his boss after all his years in the Navy, and the small but immaculate space was a prime example of that. Gabe perched on the edge of the second chair, as he was a bit too large to sit all the way back.

He looked expectantly at Mitch, praying the news wasn’t too bad.

“Do you remember Debbie Slater?” Mitch asked.

Gabe blinked. That was the last thing he’d expected him to say. “Pompeii’s mom?” he said. “The one that…” Oh. Oh no.

“Made the complaint against you,” Mitch growled. “Because she’s a bigoted…” He stopped himself short. “Yeah, her. Well, turns out her husband works on the town council. Some little pencil pusher, I’m sure. But one that yaps loudly enough to get the attention of some important people.”

Gabe ran cold. “Mitch,” he said slowly. “What’s going on?”

Mitch looked down as he rubbed his thumb along the spiral binding of one of his notebooks. “There’s been a formal complaint brought up against you with the council. They said you weren’t fit to be around kids. That…that you’d been behaving inappropriately.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Gabe cried. He tried not to let his temper flare, but he felt sick. “Are they saying I was inappropriate with one of the kids? With their kid?”

Mitch shook his head. “No, thank god. They’re not that fucking stupid. Just that your lifestyle outside of work cast doubt on whether or not you were fit to assist in an educational program.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Look, son, it’s none of my damn business. But are you seeing that Sullivan boy? The singer?”

“Joey?” Gabe clarified. “Yes. No. I mean, it’s new. And complicated. What the hell does he have to do with anything?”

“There were pictures of you on the Twitter…thing. Apparently. Isn’t he a little young?”

“He’s twenty-one,” Gabe shot back.

“Gabriel, don’t get mad at me,” Mitch said sternly. “I’m on your side. Good, I’m glad to hear that. Unfortunately, some people think fact-checking is optional, evidently. They were saying he was younger, and it made some folks uncomfortable.”

“Lewis didn’t make people uncomfortable,” Gabe said, trying to keep his tone in check.

“Lewis was a respectable lawyer,” Mitch said apologetically. “This Joey is a wild rock star. Or, so that’s what I’m hearing. Anyway, you know how it only takes an excuse or two to get these folks riled up. They take one little thing they don’t like and twist it and suddenly…”

“Mitch,” said Gabe. His hands were trembling, so he clasped them together. “Do I need to go to the police station?”

“Maybe,” Mitch replied, deeply troubled. “At the moment it’s not gone that far. But there’s pressure from the board that funds me and the library to ‘protect’ the institution.” He used air quotes to show what he thought about their idea of protection.

“What kind of pressure?” Gabe asked. He felt numb. This couldn’t be happening.

Mitch shook his head. “They’ve asked that you take some temporary leave from work. Paid, of course,” he added quickly.

“Mitch!” Gabe cried, unable to hold it in any longer. He leaped to his feet and yanked at his hair. “This is discrimination! This can’t be legal! What, a couple of people on the town council found a way to flex their homophobic muscles, and they get to fucking fire me?”

“Not fired,” Mitch retorted firmly. “They don’t have any grounds. But it was strongly hinted to me that if I wanted to keep the funding this place gets for all the community work we do, I should encourage you to take a vacation while this is all sorted out.”

Gabe felt dizzy. “This is blackmail,” he hissed. “And what do they mean ‘sorted out’? I’m not going to magically turn straight. If they think a gay man can’t work in a place with kids…they’re going to find a way to take my job, aren’t they?” This wasn’t just about the art club anymore. They had children at the library all hours of the day.

“Over my dead body,” Mitch snapped. “Look, Gabe, whatever this is, it’s just temporary, I swear. Some folks don’t like the fact that the world is changing, and every now and again they like to throw their toys out of the stroller and pretend they’re still in charge. That’s all this is.”

“But meanwhile my reputation is in the middle of it,” Gabe said, sinking back into his chair. “My job. Mitch, I have bills to pay.” He was lucky he didn’t have a mortgage, but he paid his parents rent. Their home in Florida would be at risk if he let them down.

“We just need to ride it out,” Mitch said soothingly.

But Gabe couldn’t feel so calm about it. The bottom line was, if he were straight, no one would be calling his decency into question. Had these people spoken to the shelter as well? He worked with teens there regularly. What about the firehouse?

Fuck, all it took was for one unsavory rumor to spread. That was the sort of damage that might never be undone.

“I…” said Gabe. He got to his feet and rubbed his temple. “I think I need to go make some phone calls.”

“Go home,” Mitch insisted. “I’ll let you know the second anything changes. I promise it’ll be okay.”

He couldn’t promise that though. No one could.