John blinked, then seemed to realize that Adam was okay and that he himself was the cause of Adam's distress. The man sank heavily onto the edge of Adam's bed and wiped at his cheeks. “I'm so sorry I woke you,” John said, his voice thick and halting with the tiny sobs still forcing their way out of him.
Adam's lower lip trembled. “What's wrong?” he asked. Adam studied John all over but couldn't figure out what was making the man fall apart like that. Was John in pain? His arms were still bandaged from the fire. Or had he gotten bad news? His brother, maybe? Or was this simply all too much? Adam's drama, the surgery, and everything else they'd endured over the past few months.
Hell. Over the past ten years.
John instantly sobered, his hands darting out to cup Adam's face, his thumbs wiping away Adam's tears of worry before they could even fall. “It's okay, baby. I'm okay.”
“But–”
John glanced at the urn on the nightstand across from him, almost as though his gaze was dragged there beyond his control. He snatched a hand back, covering his eyes. His shoulders shook, and Adam saw fresh tears run down the man's cheeks.
“John?” Adam choked out, his own tears coming faster.
“I'm sorry,” John managed to get out between jerky breaths. He shot forward and kissed Adam, a hard, firm press of lips, just holding there like he needed to feel Adam against him.
The move short-circuited Adam's worry.Fuck. Was that all this was? After everything, had John been worried that Adam might suffer the same fate as his dad, and now John was justletting out all the emotion he'd been holding in while bringing Adam home?
John pulled back, looking calmer even as fresh tears collected on his eyelashes. “I finally listened to your dad's voicemail.”
Adam blinked, then had to wipe his eyes to try clearing his vision. “Huh?” That was the last thing he'd expected to hear.
John swallowed hard and nodded as he tried to wipe away his own tears. “You were so brave today. Facing everything. Letting go of your guilt and your fear. I figured it was about time I do the same. So I listened to his message.”
Adam's heart sank. “Oh no. Was it bad? It was bad, wasn't it? Shit, John, I'm so–”
“No,” John interrupted fiercely, a watery smile taking over his face. “No, it wasn't bad. It was–” He shot to his feet. “Hang on. I'll play it for you.”
John ran out of the room before Adam could protest. The man was back in a moment, cradling his phone in his hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. He unlocked the screen, turned the phone around, and held it out.
Adam slowly took it, his heart picking up speed again as he stared at his dad's name. He glanced at John, who gave him an encouraging nod, then let out a shuddering breath as he tapped on the screen with his thumb to play the message.
“John, it's Frank.”
Adam jabbed at thePausebutton as a wave of emotion crashed through him. He'd heard that part before, weeks ago, in John's office, when the man had accidentally played the message. Adam had been too overwhelmed with shock to really take in his dad's tone, but as he listened now, he heard the voice he remembered. The strong, deep voice full of joy and life. And his tone wasn't angry. If anything, it was polite and almost apologetic.
Sure enough, as the message ran on, Adam heard Dad apologize for his behavior. Then he heard that long-forgotten but achingly familiar laugh as the man referred to Adam as hislittle drama queen. Adam barked out a laugh of his own. He dragged the progress bar back and let it play again, wanting to hear that smile in his dad's voice.
Fuck. He'd missed that sound more than he'd realized.
When he got to the part of the message where Dad said Adam was right about the surgery, Adam broke down in tears. Both tears of grief, because he hadn't been right, and a part of him wished his dad would have fought him harder on the issue, but also tears of relief, because now he knew that his dad would have forgiven him.
By the time the message ended, both he and John were crying again. Adam dropped the phone and burrowed into John, remembering only at the last second not to fling his arms around the man's neck since he wasn't allowed to lift them. But John gathered him up, holding him both tightly and carefully at the same time, the two of them being pillars of strength for the other while also allowing themselves to fall apart.
The last of the weight Adam had been carrying around for nearly a decade finally fell from his shoulders. And when he pulled back and looked at John, he saw the same thing written all over the man's face.
They were finally free.
* * *
ADAM RAN the full gamut of emotions over the next two weeks.
He was cranky from restrictions on sleep and showering. Having to sleep sitting up just plain sucked, pure and simple. It was making his back and neck hurt, and despite the fatigue coursing through his body as it healed, he kept having trouble drifting off, not being able to lie flat like he was used to doing.
Then he was elated every time he woke up and remembered the surgery was behind him. That he was on his way to healing, to having the body he'd always wanted. He'd spend hours each day with a hand resting lightly on his chest, needing to feel the flatness there. Through the compression bandage, his chest actually felt concave in a way, but Adam didn't care. It was the opposite of what he'd been plagued with since puberty, so he took it gladly.
Then he got frustrated with his limited movement and energy. He spent most of the time in bed or on the couch, watching movies, only getting up to get food or use the bathroom, though John often jumped up to help with the former, sparing Adam the effort. A few days post-op, after Adam had his first checkup, he did manage to walk out to the mailbox, but he needed a nap the moment he got back inside, sapped of energy.
After that, he felt ecstatic and relieved when the drains were removed, though they hurt like hell coming out. At least he didn't have to carry them around anymore. They were gross and awkward, and he'd hated having to be mindful of them against his belly every time he moved, not wanting to accidentally detach them.
