Page 160 of Fallen Rook

Then I just stood there like a creep and kept hitting the little heart icon on the top of the screen to see updates as people started liking and commenting after my mysterious hiatus. The post was exploding. A lot of people were congratulating me on coming out. Some jokingly (or not) mourned the loss of such fine specimen to the other team. It felt really, really good. Like, ninety-five percent of the comments were supportive. And that gave me hope in humanity.

I didn’t know why I kept standing there and staring. I normally posted shit and forgot about it until the next day. Still, something locked me to this moment.

Maybe I was proud of myself for owning it fully, in front of the entire world.

And maybe there was something else, too.

Another notification popped on my screen. A new comment on my photo. I clicked on it. My heart stopped.

AgentAsshole: Congratulations, kid. I bet he misses you, too.

Could it be…?

Trembling, I went into his profile. It was private. He had zero followers. And he only followed one person, which I guessed was me. I could DM him…or I could claim him publicly, instead of keeping him a secret, like Matt had.

I tapped on his comment and answered back.

ItalianSausage: Then he should do something about it.

Chapter Forty-Five

Tom

He’d followed me back.

He didn’t follow anyone, but he’d followed me. My stupid, made-up profile that had zero followers and a profile picture of one of Grams’s cats wearing a crocheted watermelon helmet.

My heart beat so hard in my chest I was pretty sure I was going into cardiac arrest. I couldn’t stop grinning at the screen.

ItalianSausage: Then he should do something about it.

I wanted to message him.

No, I wanted to go to him. Now. To cover him with kisses and promises that everything would be different going forward, that there would be no more lies, no more deception, no more decisions being made without consulting him.

I was halfway through the door when my eyes landed on the get-out-of-jail-free card sitting on the credenza. A reminder of the promise I’d given him.

I’d told him I wasn’t going to go after him, and I meant it.

Not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew what he was going through. I’d gone through it myself when I was younger. He needed time to process.

Enzo had a lot to digest. To embrace an identity that had lurked in the shadows for the majority of his life. He needed to get better, and throwing himself into a relationship with someone he had a toxic pattern with wasn’t necessarily constructive right now.

We could do things differently. We could be amazing together. But first, he had to choose us.

This wasn’t about pride, ego, or the need to feel appreciated for what I’d done for him.

Grams had once told me that with Matt, I’d settled for the love I thought I deserved.

But it had been different then. Not because I didn’t love Matt, but because a fraction of him had been enough for me. I’d been content. I’d had other things going on—school, work, therapy. I hadn’t wanted an all-consuming love story that would change my life to its very core.

With Enzo, it was all or nothing.

The nothing was a big risk.

But something simply wouldn’t do.

This time, I was going to wait.