by Linda Kage
Seeing me was what had frightened Brandt away in the first place. I was probably the last person on the planet he wanted to talk to. Especially after last night.
God, he must hate me.
Caroline, however, started to nod. “You’re right,” she told her husband. “She’s probably the only one he’ll listen to right now. Sarah, you go.”
“No, really.” I began to wheel my chair in reverse. “Did you see his face when he saw me? He didn’t want me to even know about this. No way will he want to talk to me about it.”
And besides, after last night, I wasn’t sure he’d want to talk to me period.
“He didn’t want any of us to know,” Brandt’s sister argued as she pulled open the screen door and waved me forward. “But now that we do, someone needs to tell him we still love him, he did nothing wrong, and we’re here for him no matter what, so...go along now.”
“I said I was going!” Noel snapped.
Aspen, who’d been gazing into the backyard, turned and caught her husband’s arm before he could reach the door. “Noel,” she said softly. “I know what he’s going through. He won’t be able to talk to just anyone.”
When Noel’s shoulders collapsed and his eyes filled with torment, I wondered what the heck had happened to Aspen for her to be able to relate to Brandt.
“If he’s able to open up at all, it’s only going to be to the person he’s closer to than anyone else.” When her gaze sought mine, I gulped.
Shit.
Noel glanced my way too. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and cursed softly under his breath. Finally, he blew out a lungful and glanced toward Ten. “I can’t believe you were actually right. Sarah should be the one to go.”
Ten flipped him off before rhetorically asking, “Why is it so hard for people to see what a genius I am?”
“I don’t know, baby.” Caroline patted his shoulder before she turned seeking eyes my way. “Sarah?”
“His truck’s still here,” Aspen told me. “So he either took a walk or he’s still in the backyard. My guess is the latter.”
Noel squeezed my arm supportively. “Will you please help him?”
I opened my mouth to argue. There was no way I was the right person to seek Brandt out right now. But everyone in the kitchen was spearing me with this pleading, desperate look. I swear, even the toddlers were looking at me with little begging expressions.
I groaned. “Okay.”
Convinced I was only going to upset Brandt more, I scowled at Caroline for still holding the damn door open as I wheeled past her into the darkening evening. The chilly air made me hiss out a startled breath. It was as if even the atmosphere knew this was a cold, dark, painful moment.
I rolled down the ramp, turned toward the grassy yard, and sighed. Grass was more difficult to power over; it’d slow my search down, but that was fine because a new idea hit me. Nothing brought my best friend around like his protective instinct.
Though I couldn’t see Brandt anywhere, I knew one surefire way to draw him out of hiding if he was here. I kicked my footrests up to the sides and out of my way. Then I latched my fingers around the armrests and gingerly pushed to my feet.
From the dark, a sharp voice growled, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m...” When I took my first step, my legs wobbled like a new colt’s. “Coming to...find...you.” With my second step, I nearly went down and had to reach out my hand to brace myself against the boarded wall of the privacy fence.
“Sarah!” His voice high with alarm, Brandt appeared in front of me and grasped my arms. “Are you crazy? You’re going to fall and hurt yourself.” A supportive arm banded around my waist as he tethered me to him.
No way was I falling now.
“Relax.” I patted his chest and grinned up at him. “It was just a couple steps. I’m good.” Though I’d probably be flat on my face right now if he wasn’t holding me up. I ignored that little fact. “Now.” After a refreshed sigh, I motioned toward the fence wall. “Let’s sit, shall we?”
“On the ground?” He sounded leery.
I almost started bawling then and there. But my precious boy was still trying to take care of me while he was probably going through the worst turmoil of his life. I bit the inside of my lip as the first tear developed. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t cry. Brandt didn’t respond well to tears, especially my tears. He always turned helpless, and mad, and vulnerable, all emotions I didn’t want him even going near right now.
I had to be the rainbow in his cloud.
Wit and sarcasm were always how I’d cheered him before, so I tilted up my chin and waved out a hand like some kind of regal queen.
“Of course, on the ground. Do you see any benches around? I hope you’re done crying. I forgot to bring any tissues.”
“I’m not crying.” Brandt sounded irritated as he helped us both lower ourselves to the ground until we were sitting side by side.
“Really?” I reached out and patted his face in the dark, in search of wet cheeks, but I only encountered dry skin before he grasped my wrist and pulled my hand away. “That’s incredible. I’d probably be a weeping pile of mush if I were you. So, seriously, if you want to cry—”
“I’m not going to cry,” he muttered.
“Okay, then.” I bit my lip. “Well...I just came out here to tell you, I’m not mad.”
“Mad?”
“Yeah, you know, because we’re best friends and all. We tell each other everything, the good and the bad, and you never once mentioned this to me. I’m not mad. It’s okay. I forgive you. I mean, seriously, I doubt I would’ve been able to tell you about it either if it had happened to me.”
There. I was proud of myself for the careless act. As long as I could keep this up, and didn’t weep as I ached to, I wouldn’t lose him. I was so sure my cheery mood was working too because he let out a laugh.
But then I realized it was an angry, bitter laugh. “It would’ve been entirely different if it had happened to you,” he sneered.
“What do you mean?” I squinted up at his face, frustrated I couldn’t make out his expression.
“I’m a guy,” he gritted out. “It’s different.”
“No,” I argued softly, shaking my head in absolute confusion. “It’s really not different at all. Rape is rape.” And he’d been raped.
With a snort, he shook his head, “Yes, it damn well is different. A girl can be forced into it completely against her will. She can be one hundred percent the victim. But a guy can’t. Because a woman rapist can’t get shit done unless he gets an erection to complete the act, which means...he actually has to want it.”
Gulping, I pressed my shaking fingers to my throat. A part of me could see how he’d come to that conclusion. He thought a female could feel justified in the fact that she fought against it until the bitter end, that no part of her participated willingly. He’d heaped an extra layer of guilt onto his shoulders because he felt as if he’d contributed to his mother’s molestation.
And he was so completely wrong.
Not about to let this dear precious man carry any of the blame, I gripped his arm. “That’s just bullshit.”
Brandt sucked in a surprised breath before rasping, “Excuse me?”
“You make it sound like merely saying no isn’t enough to constitute rape. What if the woman participates because a monster is holding a gun to her head or a knife to her throat and she goes along because she just wants to fucking live?”
“My mother didn’t have a weapon.”
I ignored that. “Or...or what if a rapist forces a girl to climax when he assaults her?”
“What?” Brandt recoiled. “That’s just wrong.”
“It happens,” I hissed, then bit the inside of my cheek for the second time since coming out here. I was balancing on a fragile line and pushing the boundaries of our friendship by doing this to him, but from the depths of my bones, I felt like I had to. “Are you saying those women deserved it?�
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“No!” he cried. “I would never say that. But this is different.”
“No, it isn’t. You are a victim. One hundred percent. You did not want it to happen to you.”
“Sarah,” he warned in a low voice, his breath heaving as he grew upset. “Don’t. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I was pretty sure I knew enough, so I shot back, “Yes, I do. That child-molesting bitch raped you. End of story. You were not willing.”
“Except I was,” he roared back. “I wasn’t exactly a small, puny thirteen-year-old. I could’ve fought her off, pushed her away, hit her. But I didn’t. And you know what else? I fucking liked it!”
As soon as he roared those words, though, he sucked in a breath and hissed, “Oh, Jesus.” A sob caught in his throat, and he bowed his head before gripping his hair. “Oh, God. It actually felt good. By the end, I was pushing my hips against her, eager for more, so fucking desperate to get off I didn’t care whose mouth was on me.”
He pulled his knees up to his chest and continued to cradle his head in his hands. Shoulders shaking, he buried his face in his knees, hiding his shame from the world.
His heavy sobs sounded as if they were being ripped straight from his chest.
My lips parted in shock. For a moment, I had no idea how to react. I was afraid to touch him because it seemed as if he might shatter from the slightest contact.
The devastation in his voice killed me, made my chest go tight and achy. My skin chilled with cold, and my head pounded incessantly.
“It was the only time she ever paid attention to me,” he whispered. “I knew it was wrong. The whole time. I could’ve stopped her, so easily. Yet I just stood there. Why did I do that? Why didn’t I stop her?”
“Oh, Brandt.” With a sob, I wrapped my arms around him, not caring whether it shattered him or not. If he fell apart, I’d just put him back together again.
His muscles locked, trying to ward away my touch. But I burrowed my face into the side of his shoulder and cried with him, rocking us both back and forth. “It’s okay,” I reassured. “It’s okay, darling.”
“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not okay. I’m so fucking fucked up that I will never...be...okay.”
“Yes, you will.” I stroked his hair. “You will.”
Petting the back of his palm where he was still clutching his head, I interlocked our fingers. In return, he tightened his grip on me and turned his head slightly in my direction, barely opening up to me.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out.
I shook my head and smiled through my tears. “For what? You did nothing wrong. Honestly, you’ve done so many things right. You’re the best friend a person could ever have, and I love you more than anyone else on the planet. Don’t be sorry for that.”
He opened his mouth, probably to argue with me, but nothing came out, so he ended up pressing his lips back together and shaking his head.
“You know me, Brandt.” I squeezed his fingers supportively. “I am a guarded, closed-off person. I don’t open up to just anyone. They have to be worth it. But for you and only you, I can check my reservations at the door and be myself, completely.” I shook my head. “You always make me feel special, because you’re special. No matter what happened nine years ago when you were thirteen-freaking-years old and your mom caught you off guard, right now, right here in this yard with me, you are the best person I know. And you’re a fighter. You will get past this.”
When I leaned up to kiss his cheek, he closed his eyes and eased out a long, slow breath. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course not,” I answered airily, while actually I knew it was the other way around. I didn’t deserve him. “But I like you anyway, so you’re stuck with me.”
He gave a small laugh and lifted his face, making direct eye contact for the first time since I’d come outside. It was a small victory, but I’d take it. Then he sniffed and wiped the back of his hand over his nose.
Since he’d stopped openly sobbing, I had a feeling his tears were beginning to dry for good. Thank God. The world was a very dismal place when Brandt Gamble was reduced to tears.
“Thank you,” he said, letting go of my fingers so he could wrap his arms around me and tug me into his lap until my side was pressed warmly against his chest. “We moved here right after it happened, and you were the first person to really talk to me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you then. Fuck, I don’t know what I’d do without you right now. Probably kill myself.”
My heart jumped with fear at the very idea, but I forced myself to stay calm and keep it light.
“Well, we can’t have that.” I smacked his chest lightly. “I wouldn’t have anyone else to complain to every time they canceled one of my favorite shows if you were gone.”
He chuckled again, then squeezed me tight and buried his face in my hair before inhaling deeply, smelling my shampoo. “God, I love you.”
My lips trembled as I tried to keep from bursting out into tears once more. The profound honor I felt for getting to be the one to ease his pain was overwhelmingly precious.
I bit the side of my lip to keep myself under control. Then I ran my fingers through his hair again and snuggled closer, because not only did I need the contact, but he was the perfect heat source on this cool night.
He smelled good too, like he was fresh from a shower. And for some reason the resulting lust that stirred through me made me remember why I’d come here in the first place, and what I’d done to him last night.
My eyes snapped open, guilt swamping me.
Pulling away, I looked up at him and choked on my own regret. “Brandt, I...I’m so sorry.”
“What?” He frowned down at me and tilted his head in confusion. “Why?”
I groaned, wondering if I should open this can of worms.
He watched me so intently I decided I couldn’t let my momentum with him backslide.
“I, uh, if I ask you something serious,” I started before closing my eyes and wondering if I should continue before I did anyway, “would you be perfectly honest with me?”
A bitter laugh welled from him. “Sarah, you just learned the worst, deepest darkest secret I’ve ever had. I think it’s safe to say I have absolutely no reason to lie about anything from here on out.”
“Well...” I opened my lashes to watch his face. Then I stroked his arm, already trying to soothe him in case my question pulled a trigger. “When...when Colton told everyone how he saw your mom cornering you against the wall and kneeling in front of you—” As his muscles contracted, I petted him a little faster. “I couldn’t help but remember the way you reacted last night when I trapped you against the wall and sucked your—”
“It wasn’t the same,” he cut in, reaching for my hand to pull it off his arm and grip my fingers. “Those two events...not the same at all.”
“Yeah, but still...is that what you meant when you said it gave you bad déjà vu? What I did brought up memories of...her?”
He was so quiet I realized I had my answer. So I whispered, “Oh, Brandt, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry I did that to you. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to force the issue. You told me no, repeatedly, and I just didn’t listen. I’m never going to push again. I can’t believe I—”
“No.” He shook me lightly to get me to stop talking. “You did nothing wrong. You’ve never done anything wrong. There is no reason at all for you to be sorry. You’re the only thing holding me together right now. Fuck, you’ve been the one thing holding me together for nine years. It’s in no way your fault that I’m so messed up. I just...I can’t...”
When he shook his head and bowed his face again, I panicked and clutched his arm, worried I’d lost ground by bringing up the subject.
I was so stupid.
I wanted to tell him it was okay, he didn’t have to say anything else, but then I feared things would only get worse if we didn’t clear the air completely right now, so I found myself asking, “You can’t
what?”
“I don’t know,” he muttered, clearly irritated with himself. “Sex is just really weird for me. After...after what she did, I was so fucking ashamed and mortified every time I got wood. Anything to do with my cock was wrong and dirty, and just...contaminated by what I’d done with her. Then Shayla Birmingham seduced me our sophomore year.”
Damn it, I knew she’d been his first. God, I hated beautiful, big-boobed Shayla Birmingham.
“After her, I realized I could do stuff, just not with someone I actually felt close to because then it was like I was, I don’t know, sullying her or something. So I started choosing partners I knew I’d never fall for. From there, I grew to need certain...things.”
He glanced at me. “Not only would it have felt like I was defiling you with my filth if we’d ever done anything, but I...I have strange tastes, and when you asked me to take your virginity, I freaked out. What if...what if I freaked you out, and you never wanted anything to do with me again?”
Mind going crazy with what he might possibly mean by all that, I cleared my throat, then said, “Okay, first of all, you are not filthy. No victim is filthy just because something horrendous happened to them, no matter how culpable you feel. And second...strange how? Are we talking...fecal play, golden showers, cadaver fetishes, bestiality—”
“What? No!” he shouted, staring at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Nothing like that. Jesus. I meant domination. Just...domination-like shit. I like to be in complete control, okay? I don’t let the girl touch me or be on top or...it’s fucked up, but...I don’t know, a normal kind of fucked up. Last night was the closest I’d ever let anyone get to my dick. But since it was you, I thought...I don’t know.”
“I understand,” I murmured. “And I...I appreciate you trusting me enough to at least let me try. I’m sorry I messed up and—”
“You didn’t mess up. You...it was going well, and I mean really well...until I freaked out.”
I smiled, wondering why I didn’t feel awkward about having this conversation with him. But then...this was Brandt. I’m not sure anything we ever discussed could become awkward between us.