“Your silence is scaring me,” Shane said.

They’d been in the car less than two minutes, but they’d spent the entire walk to the parking garage in perfect silence. Noel didn’t trust himself to speak. He’d run the gamut tonight on emotions, from terror to anger to confusion and back again.

Watching Tristan collapse had given Noel a brief flashback to the night of their bashing. To seeing a bruised and bloodied Tristan hit on the back of the head with a bottle hard enough to shatter it, and hard enough to send Tristan crashing to the pavement. Unlike tonight, he’d been so still that Noel thought he was dead. Even while their asshole attackers sliced up Noel’s chest, all he could do was grieve over Tristan.

He hadn’t been able to voice all of that to Gabe, so he’d allowed himself to get angry at the other guy. Nothing that had happened tonight was Gabe’s fault, but Noel had needed a target. Fair or unfair, Gabe briefly became the enemy.

“I know you’re worried about Tristan,” Shane added. “I mean, you’re always worried about Tristan, but this is fucking huge. Please don’t keep it inside. I know better than anyone that’s never a good idea.”

Shane used to be the king of bottling up his emotions and keeping secrets, until everything came crashing down. They both knew it was better to vent and be honest. It saved angry fights later on.

“Tonight made me think about the bashing,” Noel said, unsurprised that his voice was rough. “The way Tristan went down. For just a second, I was back there, positive he was dead.”

Shane reached across the console to squeeze his thigh.

Noel covered that hand with his. “I took it out on Gabe, and that wasn’t fair.”

“Emotional reactions usually aren’t. Gabe’s a decent guy. He gets it.”

“Still, I should have apologized.”

“So text him later. Get it off your chest.”

“I think I’m a little bit jealous too.”

“Of Gabe?”

“Yeah.” Noel picked for the right words, so he didn’t make Shane mad. “I guess I’m used to having Tristan’s undivided attention, being the one who cares the most about him. It’s strange seeing him reach for someone else when he’s upset.”

“That makes sense,” Shane said. “It isn’t just Tristan’s life that’s changing, babe. You have to adapt too.”

“I know. So much has happened in the last six months.” From meeting and falling for Shane, to buying a house together, to Tristan’s memory improvement and Gabe’s addition to their lives. So much change.

“Good news is human beings were made to adapt.”

“True. Some of us just take more time than others.”

“You’ll get there.” Shane squeezed his thigh once more, then returned his hand to the wheel to negotiate a turn. “Eventually we all get to where we’re supposed to be.”

Noel desperately wanted to believe that was true—not only for his and Shane’s sake, but also for Tristan’s.

* * *

Gabe jerked awake and blinked sleepily around the dark, unfamiliar room. Photos, pages and sticky notes all over the walls. A single window. Narrow bed that had a lean body pressed close to his.

Tristan’s room at Benfield. They’d fallen asleep together.

He’d brought Tristan back here, rather than to Bear’s house, because it felt safer having Tristan close to medical professionals. Tristan had tried to protest, but he’d been worn out from the seizure and hadn’t put up much of a fight. Gabe explained what was happening to Debra, the night nurse on duty. She complained that it was a little late for visiting a patient—granted, it was after midnight by the time they got back—but he walked Tristan to his room anyway.

Somehow a long cuddle turned into them sleeping together.

But the oddness of that wasn’t what woke him up.

A sliver of light on the floor traced back to the open door—a door Gabe remembered closing. Someone had come inside. Or peeked in to check on them. Either way, it disconcerted Gabe. Sure, Tristan lived in an assisted living center but he deserved privacy. He wasn’t an elderly patient who could have a heart attack at any moment and die.

He could have another seizure, maybe worse than the first one.

He hugged Tristan tighter, glad he hadn’t woken up. Tristan looked so peaceful when he slept. Nothing hurt and nothing scared him. He could get out of his own head for a while and dream of something nicer.

Gabe should have gone home, but since no one was kicking him out, he didn’t. He stayed right where he wanted to be, which was with Tristan. Debbie would be on the warpath in the morning, but he didn’t care. He was giving her his ultimatum tomorrow and officially moving in with his dads. She’d pitched a solid fit the previous morning when he finally got home. He said he’d had wine at dinner and fallen asleep there—only half a lie. She’d bought it and calmed down.

Telling her he was leaving after being out all night again was not high on his Friday to-do list, but he had to do it. No more taking her abuse. No more enabling.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift back into a restless sleep, marred by dreams of Debbie and her verbal onslaughts, and memories of the different ways she knew how to smack and slap. He woke later with arms around his waist and a warm mouth pressing kisses on the side of his neck.

Tristan was holding him.

“Morning,” Gabe said. He rolled onto his back so he could kiss Tristan’s mouth.

“Hey.” Tristan’s sleepy smile also held a touch of worry. “Did you sleep okay? You were mumbling a lot.”

“Less than nice dreams. But this is a wonderful thing to wake up to.”

“I can’t believe none of the night nurses kicked you out.”

“You must have them all tied around your little finger.”

“Or they see how happy you make me. I bet I was a shitty patient for a lot of years.”

“Resident.”

Tristan tilted his head. “What?”

“You aren’t a patient here. That implies you’re sick, and you’re not. You’re a resident.” Even if it had been a slip of the tongue, Gabe didn’t ever want Tristan thinking he was sick or broken. Not ever again.

“Okay.” He glanced down at their fully clothed bodies and laughed. “We didn’t even take our shoes off.”

“Well, falling asleep wasn’t exactly the plan, but I’m not going to complain.”

“Me either. Do you work today?”

“Later tonight at the club. I have something I need to do today, though, so I can’t hang around too long this morning.”

Tristan sucked at hiding his disappointment. “Okay.”

“I can come back this afternoon. We’ll hang out for a few hours.”

“Awesome.” He frowned. “Wait, do I have something to do in the afternoon?”

“No, your painting class is tomorrow. Saturday. It’s Friday.”

“Oh, okay. Then yes, let’s totally hang out this afternoon. I can do something to pass the time.” Tristan looked around until his gaze landed on the far corner of his room. “I’m drawing again. That’s right. I can do that. Hey!”

Tristan rolled out of bed and scrambled over to a desk littered with notebooks and art supplies. He picked up a wide drawing pad, then turned with the pad facing his chest. “You want to see what I’m drawing Noel for a housewarming present? It’s almost finished.”

“Definitely.” Gabe sat up. He rolled his shoulders because the bed wasn’t very comfortable. He didn’t know how Tristan stood it.

Tristan turned the pad around to present the drawing. Noel’s finished image took up the bottom left of the page, just his head and shoulders. In the top right, Shane was about half finished, details missing and his coloring un-shaded. The likenesses were amazing.

“I’m going to draw their house into the background once I’m done with Shane,” Tristan said. “I had Noel send me some photos, but I didn’t tell him why.”

“It’s beautiful.” Gabe envied him his talent. The only thing Gabe seemed to be good at was smiling at rude customers and fucking.

“What is it?”

Gabe blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You looked really sad for a second.” Tristan put the pad down. “What were you thinking about?”

“Wishing I had some kind of amazing talent like you. You’re a super gifted artist, Tristan. Seems like not very many people are really, genuinely good at something.”

Tristan wrapped his arms around Gabe’s waist. “Maybe you haven’t found your talent yet. I’m sure you haven’t tried doing everything there is to do.”

“That’s true. At least I know what I’m not good at.”

“And what’s that?”

“Musical instruments. I wanted to play something so badly in middle school. I tried a dozen different instruments. Piano, percussion, string, wood, brass. Nothing. I have zero musical talent.”

“You have a decent singing voice.” Tristan paused with his mouth open, like his thought process has simply stopped. “Hey, how do I know that? Did we do karaoke or something?”

Gabe chuckled at that mental image. “No. I was probably singing along to Christmas carols in the car one of the times I drove you.”

“Oh. Well that makes sense.” A wicked smile slunk across his lips. “So then we definitely have to do karaoke. I’ve never done it sober, but I’d give up my dignity for you. Do you ever do it at your dads’ club?”

“First and third Tuesday every month.”

“When’s the next one?”

“Next week. Only I have to work in the restaurant that night.”

The epic disappointment on Tristan’s face completely broke Gabe’s No Karaoke Ever rule. “I can try to switch with someone.”

Tristan planted a hard kiss on his cheek. “Please?”

“I said I’ll try, I promise.” Shouldn’t be too difficult to swap an evening shift for a day shift. Evenings always brought in better tips.

“Thank you. I think it would be really, really fun. Anything we do together is fun.” He nuzzled at Gabe’s earlobe. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to do really fun things last night. You’re here, so something weird happened, right?”

“Can you remember?”

Tristan stuck the tip of his tongue out like he often did while thinking. “I was with Noel because it was Thursday, but it was late and we were still out. But no, nothing.”

“That’s not a surprise.” Gabe explained the seizure and the hospital, and how it wasn’t unusual for someone to be groggy and not remember what had happened afterward. He hated the way Tristan’s eyes got wet and his mouth twisted into something upset and ugly.

“It was just one, though, right?” Tristan asked. Panic pitched his voice higher. “I don’t have to stop the trial, right?”

“No, you don’t have to stop the trial. Dr. Fischer said sometimes people had one and never had another, so he didn’t even want to give you medicine for it yet.”

Tristan calmed a little, but not enough for Gabe, so he hauled Tristan into a proper hug. Chests and arms and chins on shoulders. Tristan’s heart thumped wildly in his chest, hard enough for Gabe to feel it.

“I know it’s scary, but you’re okay,” Gabe said. “You’re okay.”

Maybe if I say that enough, it will always be true.

“Sorry to be such a wimp about this,” Tristan said as he pulled back.

“Hey, you’re allowed to have feelings. This is scary, but I’ve got your back. I promise.”

“It helps. Knowing that helps.”

“I’m glad.” Gabe checked the time on his phone. “Shit, I should go. You’ve got breakfast soon anyway.”

“Okay. Email me later about coming over?”

“Definitely.” He caught Tristan’s soft lips in a gentle kiss, just enough to put the taste of him back where it belonged. “See you later.”

Every time he dropped Tristan off, he walked out of Benfield like he was abandoning something important. Tristan wasn’t alone. He was cared for at Benfield. But he thrived with Gabe. And Gabe wanted him around as often as possible, not locked away in an assisted living center, surrounded by great-grandparents and sleeping alone at night.

He hated leaving Tristan behind, and he silently vowed one day to pick Tristan up for the last time—the time when he’d come to live with Gabe for good.

* * *

Debbie was asleep on the couch when Gabe got home. He stood in the doorway, hand still on the knob, a sense of wrongness slamming down over him. No evidence of a takeout binge, no wine box or random bottle on the coffee table. The downstairs didn’t reek.

He hadn’t walked into the wrong house. That was definitely his mother stretched out on the couch, dressed in her yellow bathrobe and floral slippers. She’d fall asleep like that when he was in high school and stayed out late with his friends. She always waited up to make sure he got home safely.

She hadn’t waited up for him in years.

Nervous now, Gabe went about making coffee as quietly as possible. He only had one bag left upstairs, as well as his laptop. Getting them and getting out while she was asleep was probably the safest, sanest plan. Except he’d have to come back. Giving her the ultimatum over the phone wouldn’t have the same effect as handing it over, and then walking out.

So he made toast and ate that while his coffee cooled to a not-scorching temperature. He drank two mugs at the kitchen table while playing Tetris on his phone, sound down low. Finally a freakishly loud yawn bounced in from the living room. Acid splashed in his stomach.

Debbie shuffled into the kitchen, her usually frizzy hair smoothed out and only slightly tangled. She went straight for the coffee pot and poured herself a mug. Black. She blew across the top as she turned, then almost dropped the mug when she saw Gabe.

“Figured you’d be up in your room,” she said. “You don’t usually eat down here.”

“I was waiting for you to wake up.”

She took a step toward the table, then stopped. Uncertain. She seemed more aware than usual during a morning-after, and it made him wonder how much she drank last night. “What time did you get in?”

“About forty-five minutes ago.”

He waited for the anger, only none came. She nodded, her expression difficult to discern. A little sad, a lot exhausted.

“Fall asleep at your father’s again?” she asked.

“No, with my boyfriend.”

She almost dropped her mug again. “Your what? You have a boyfriend?”

He’d never mentioned Tristan, because Tristan was too special. Too precious to be exposed to her. Only Tristan was never going to meet the drunk her. Not if he had any say in it. And in that moment, he wanted her to know that he was happy. That he had something in his life worth fighting for.

“I do,” he said. “We haven’t been together long, but I love him very much.”

“Well, I…that’s good.”

So not the reaction he’d expected. She should be angry. Screaming about him having someone when she was all alone. He didn’t know what to do with this calm, rational Debbie. Might as well take his chances now, rather than wait.

“It is good. He’s an amazing man, and he loves me back.”

“I should hope so. You’re too special to be wasting time with someone who doesn’t love you back.”

He blinked. This was the Debbie he remembered from high school. The aware, loving mother who’d been on the wagon, attentive, and who cared about his life. This Debbie had been absent for the last six years. “I know I am. That’s why I’m leaving.”

“You just got home.”

“I don’t mean for the day. I’ve already taken most of my stuff out of here. I’m not living here anymore as of today.”

Her eyes went wide. “Where are you going?”

“I have a place. Everything is arranged.”

“But this is your home.”

“This is a house. It’s a house you live in because I allow it. It’s a house I pay for because you can’t. You won’t. You lose every job you get because of your drinking. You spend my money on shit you don’t need.”

“I can’t help myself.”

“Yes you fucking well can, but you choose not to.”

She flinched like he’d smacked her for a change.

“I can’t do this anymore, Mom. I’m done.”

She put the coffee mug down on the counter then pressed her palms flat. “I haven’t had a drink since yesterday morning.”

Gabe wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard that correctly. “You what?”

“You’ve been acting different lately, and it worried me. I don’t want to lose you, Gabriel, you’re all I have. So I stopped. It’s been twenty-four hours.”

“Bullshit. You’d be shaking all over the floor by now.”

Her shoulders hunched. “I maybe had a shot or two last night to stop the tremors. I had to!”

“No you didn’t.” He stood up so fast his chair fell over backward, and she jumped from the noise. “You could have stayed sober, but you took the easy way out. You can’t stay dry, not even for one day, can you?”

“I’m trying.”

“It’s not enough. We’ve played this game, and I won’t be duped by you again.” His chest ached, but he had to get it all out. “I’m moving out today. I’ll pay the mortgage but nothing else. You have three weeks.”

“Three weeks to do what?”

Gabe wished he had the pamphlet in front of him, but it was upstairs in his room. “There’s an alcohol rehab and treatment center in New Jersey that I’ve spoken with. They have a slot for you. Four weeks, intensive rehab. I’ve also got a lead on a community outreach program that will help train you to get back into the workforce.”

Debbie’s eyes filled with tears. Her cheeks reddened. “You want to send me away?”

“No. I want you to send yourself away.” He swallowed hard against rising bile, ready for the onslaught if she decided to unleash her wrath. “You have three weeks to either get yourself together and get out of this house, or to willingly go to this rehab program.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll begin eviction proceedings.” His skin crawled with the cruelty of his words, even though he knew it was for the best. “I won’t do this anymore, Mom. This is it. And I think three weeks is damned generous.”

“You’ll kick your own mother out onto the street?”

Her overwhelming indignation pissed him off a little. “No, you’ll be kicking yourself out if you choose to continue drinking and rotting away, instead of taking this chance. If I’m going to keep pissing my hard-earned money away, I’d rather put it toward getting you better. I’m done enabling you.”

Her face went scarlet. “You ungrateful little shit.”

“I’m ungrateful? The other day I cleaned up a sea of broken glass, and you thanked me by throwing a book at my head. I keep you fed and a roof over your head, and you thank me by screaming at me, calling me names and breaking shit.”

“I have bad days, you know that. I’d work if I could.”

“Bullshit. You lose every job you get because you either stop going, or you show up hammered. You don’t want to work. You want to feel sorry for yourself.”

“After what your father did to me—”

“It was twenty years ago!” Gabe’s voice kept rising to match Debbie’s. “You could have found someone else, remarried and been happy. Instead, you dove into a bottle and you chose to stay there and be miserable. I’m sick of being miserable with you. I have someone who loves me, and I choose him.”

“Gabriel—”

“No. I’m going upstairs for my last few things, and then I’m out. If you haven’t left for rehab by the time twenty-one days pass, you’re out.”

He stalked from the kitchen before he really lost his temper—something he’d definitely inherited from her. Gabe unlocked his bedroom door for the last time for a while. Let her destroy the furniture and carpet in a fit of rage. He’d replace it. Whatever. He shoved his laptop and charger into his gym bag with a few final sets of clothes, then slung it over his shoulder. He wouldn’t miss the room. It had been a place to hide from his mother, nothing more.

Debbie was standing in the middle of the living room, arms clasped around her middle. “Please, Gabriel, don’t go. I’ll change, I promise, but I need you here.”

“No.”

“I can’t do this alone.”

“You couldn’t do it while I was here.” He dropped the pamphlet on the coffee table. “I’m going.”

“If it’s about money, we can sell some of the stuff I bought. We can have a yard sale.”

“It’s November.”

“What about a pawn shop?”

“Go for it, if that’s your choice. Then you’ll have money to buy food when what’s here runs out.”

Her face went slack. “You aren’t giving me anything?”

“Hell no. Besides, you have a basement and bedroom closet full of brand new shit that you can pawn. Make your own money for a change.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I’ve already done it. All I need to do is walk out that door.”

“You won’t. You’re too good a boy to your mother. You’ve got too big a heart to do this to me.”

“I’m doing this for you, Mom. You can’t see that, but I want you to get better. I want to be proud to introduce you to my boyfriend. I want us to do normal things like go grocery shopping without you falling down drunk. You can do this if you want to. You’re the most stubborn person I know.”

Nothing he said made a difference. Tears streaked down her red cheeks, and she stomped one foot on the floor. “You’re abandoning me just like your father did. Leaving me for another man!”

Gabe’s chest blazed with anger. “You can frame this however you want, but the result is the same. Three weeks. Rehab or you’re gone.”

He stormed past her and out the front door. The moment it slammed shut, something inside the house shattered. His hands started shaking, and he had trouble getting the key into his car door. Once he was inside his car, bag on the passenger seat, he allowed all of his anger and fear to swell up. He shook for a while, adrenaline putting a sour taste in his mouth.

I did it. I really fucking did it.

Gabe genuinely had no idea how the next three weeks would play out. Leaving proved he was serious, while staying would have shown her otherwise. Without him around to pay for shit, she’d start to understand. She’d either go to rehab and get clean, or she’d face the consequences.

Debbie had exactly three weeks from today to choose her own future.

Because Gabe had already chosen his.