Heart Unheard

by Andrew Grey

  Scott was cared for; every caress and movement told him that. Brent took such care with his touch and even the way they joined together, long and slow, filling and emptying, ecstasy building on top of passion. Scott could have told Brent what he wanted, but he just seemed to know.

  “Oh God,” Scott whimpered as Brent’s hips pressed to his ass. He had all of Brent inside him, and he breathed shallowly, letting the stretch and burn wash over him and dissipate, followed by sheer joy as Brent slowly started to move. Nothing was tentative or hesitant. Brent leaned forward to kiss him, rocking his hips slowly, sending building ripples running through him. Almost instantly Scott needed release. Brent had him on the edge within minutes, and thankfully seemed to sense it, taking Scott’s hands and holding them gently.

  This was going to last, because Brent knew exactly what he was doing. Scott could feel that his pleasure was in Brent’s control. Every movement was designed to either drive him mad or back him off, only so Brent could take him higher. Scott didn’t know how to think; he’d never felt that way before, but his brain was now fried and all his senses centered on Brent. There was no one else, nothing else.

  They rocked together, Brent completing him, sliding along that spot inside him, taking him to nirvana and back multiple times until nothing at all existed except Brent. Scott kept his eyes closed. There was nothing to see anyway, only to feel. Every nerve and sense had been reduced to the basest of feelings, and Scott wished this would never end. He was the center of the universe for a few minutes, until he could no longer hold back the tide of passion that slammed into him, carried him along like a surfer on a wave, then crashed over him in a cadence of release that left him unable to move.

  Scott must have blacked out or transcended to another plane, maybe only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough of a glimpse of pure bliss for him to hold on to for the rest of his life.

  “Brent,” he whispered—at least he hoped so.

  Brent stroked his arm, lying on the bed next to him. Scott didn’t want to move, afraid everything would change and the world would be as it really was. Brent shifted slightly next to him and then rolled over, tugging Scott to him in a cocoon of heat in the otherwise cool, air-conditioned room. He lay still, wishing he could hear Brent’s breathing and whispered intimacies, but that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, Brent used his hands, caressing and loving on him in silence.

  Scott’s eyes filled with tears, and he lay still, hoping Brent wouldn’t notice. Brent’s caring embrace brought his emotions to the surface. He tried to stop them, but failed. He was going to spend the rest of his life in a world of silence.

  Brent reached for his cheeks, gently caressed them, wiping away the tears, and held him a little tighter. Scott tried to imagine what Brent would tell him and came up with one thing: it was okay to cry and to mourn what he’d lost. Scott now had a pretty clear vision of what his life was going to be like. He was going to work, and he intended to live as fully and richly as possible. He had no intention of settling for second-best. So tonight, in safety, he was letting go of the past and would embrace the future full-on and without hesitation. Full speed ahead was his new motto. But first he had to say goodbye to the past, and that meant some tears and, thankfully, someone he… loved… to hold him.

  As soon as that word entered his mind, it refused to leave. Scott was in love with Brent. Maybe he had been for a while. But how could he tell him? Not now. What if Brent didn’t feel the same? What if he felt obligated to say it back? To stay? Scott would never want to trap him… ever.

  SCOTT WOKE the following morning to an empty bed. He was a little surprised he’d slept through Brent getting up. Still, they didn’t need to go anywhere, so maybe a lazy day would be good. He inhaled and slipped out of bed, then pulled on his pants before following the rich scent of coffee to the kitchen.

  Brent sat at the table with the newspaper laid out next to him. When Scott poured himself coffee and joined him, Brent stood to pull him into a hug, then kissed him hard enough that Scott nearly dropped the mug just because his head short-circuited within a few seconds. Damn…. Brent was an amazing kisser, and he held Scott so tightly. When he pulled away, Scott hugged Brent in return.

  “I made some decisions last night,” Scott told Brent without releasing him. “I need to accept that I’m going to live my life without being able to hear. I know it sounds dumb because I already signed up for classes, but I’m going to learn sign language and how to read lips and other people’s expressions more clearly. I’m not going to sit around and wait for shit to happen. I’m going to make it happen.” This was starting to feel like a mantra, and that was good.

  Brent pulled back, smiling. Scott already knew he had his support.

  “I do want to know who hit me and why they just drove away. When the police do catch this guy—” The image of Spencer came to mind, nervous like he was at the garage the day before. “—I want to look him in the eye and ask him why he drove away. What in the hell made him think that he could just leave someone like that, to potentially die?” Scott clenched his fists. “You need to promise you’ll be there with me.”

  “I will, but why?” At least that’s what Scott thought Brent said.

  “Because my mom and dad will try to shelter me. Just like James said they would. They’re already trying to run interference for anything that might upset me. I see them talking when they think I’m not looking. I know they mean well.” He paused. “I need you to be strong for me if you can.”

  That’s when Scott saw the shadow of doubt pass over Brent’s features, that dark cloud that didn’t stay for very long but was enough for Scott to wonder once again what had happened to him.

  “What if I can’t?” Brent asked.

  Scott pulled away, turned toward the bedroom, then back toward Brent. “You mean, you won’t?” He didn’t understand at all.

  Brent shuffled to the coffee table and grabbed a pad. He wrote, then handed it to Scott, who sat on the sofa.

  No. I mean what if I can’t. I’m not good with that sort of thing. I want to help you, and I’ll do what I can, but…. I’ll stand by you in every way I can.

  Brent flopped down on the sofa, wrapping his arms around himself. His expression lightened as though he had made up his mind about something important.

  Scott sat still, watching Brent, hoping he’d tell him whatever was behind this notion of his that he was weak. Scott had never seen that himself. He always saw Brent as someone who stood up for him and was a good friend, a good manager, and who really seemed to care for him.

  “I told you before that you don’t need to tell me what happened if you don’t want to. But I think you might need to tell someone. If not me, then talk to James or Trevor. They’ll understand—I know they will. But whatever happened that gave you this image of yourself… you have to talk about it.”

  Brent shook his head as he wrote. He crumpled the page he’d written on and tossed it in the trash. Scott stood, pulled it out, and smoothed the page so he could read the words.

  You’ll never look at me the same way again if I do.

  “Why would I do that?” Scott sat next to Brent again and leaned forward. “Don’t you understand that I see you? I know you for who you are. I’ve watched you for two damn years while we danced around each other and were too stupid to actually do anything. You know my fears and worries. You get me to share them with you. But you keep holding back. Don’t you trust me?” He knew he was pushing and that it could very well backfire in a way that made Brent close himself off even more, but he needed to get through to him.

  I’m a coward, Brent wrote, cringing as he showed Scott the page.

  Scott shook his head firmly. “You know there’s a difference between avoiding a fight and running away from one.”

  Brent leaned back, writing once again. How about hiding from one? I know who I am and I’ve had to accept it. It’s part of what’s inside me, and as much as I hate it, I can’t turn away from it. I can’t undo
what I’ve done. His shoulders slumped and he looked at the floor, growing paler by the second.

  Scott grew worried. This wasn’t the guy he thought he knew. Brent was usually confident and caring. He ran the garage like it was a family, and he’d been there for him since the accident more than anyone else. Seeing Brent looking as though he wanted to disappear into the ground was a total shock.

  “What happened, Brent?” Scott asked, scooting next to him, putting his arms around his chest in order to try to comfort him. But it didn’t seem to be working. Waves of tension washed over Brent, becoming more and more intense by the second. Scott wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but he’d wanted to help. Instead, it looked like he’d made things harder.

  Brent reached for the pad, wrote, and then handed him the page. My dad died because of me, because I was a coward. Brent turned away, then stood, went to the bedroom, and closed the door.

  “Dammit,” Scott swore, knowing he’d pushed too hard and driven Brent away. He wondered what the hell he should do now and thought he should just go home. As Scott reached into his pocket to pull out his phone, he thought of texting his mother to come get him. He typed the message he wanted and sent it with a small sigh, not sure what else to do.

  Chapter 7

  BRENT SAT on the side of his bed, berating himself. He’d only proven once again that he was truly a coward. He fled to his room instead of dealing with the problem straight on. Scott had given him a chance to man up, but he’d run away to hide. That was his fucking pattern, and he hated it and himself for it.

  “Shit!” He didn’t want to talk about his past, and yet he fucking knew Scott was right and he needed to. He’d always been so full of advice to help Scott, but did he take it when it was offered to him? Hell no—he ran away and hid in his room like he was still ten years old and scared of thunderstorms. All he had to do was go back out there, but then how was he going to face Scott? Brent covered his face with his hands and wished he’d been a better person, one who could just stand up to what he’d done, face it down, and have it over with. That was what he needed.

  Brent stood and forced his feet to the door. He pulled it open and stepped out, heat high in his cheeks. Scott sat on the sofa, looking at him, his expression hard and his eyes filled with concern. Brent wasn’t sure what to say or how to go about it, so he shoved his hands in his pockets. Scott got up and walked past him into the bedroom. Brent turned and watched as Scott finished dressing. Then Scott returned to the sofa, sat back down, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  What’s going on? Brent wrote, then brought the page over to the sofa. Something wasn’t right, and Scott was most definitely angry with him. Well, maybe angry wasn’t the right word. Disappointed? Hell, he was disappointed in himself, but that was a recurring theme. Had been for a long time now.

  “I sent a message and I’m waiting.”

  When Scott turned away, Brent sighed. He really had blown it. Hell, he should have known it was only a matter of time. He hadn’t even been able to be there for his father, so why had he thought he was good enough for Scott?

  The bell rang, and Brent buzzed them in, figuring it was Carolyn to come pick Scott up. He opened the door a few seconds later and was shocked as Trevor and James stepped inside.

  “Scott messaged us and said that you needed some help,” James said, his arm on Trevor’s.

  Scott came right over to hug James and then Trevor before turning to Brent. “You and I need to have a talk, and since you didn’t want to talk to me, I figured I’d turn the tables. You brought in the big guns when I was feeling sorry for myself, so I thought it was my turn.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression firm. “Think of this as an intervention.”

  “Shit,” Brent grumbled under his breath.

  “Buddy, you’re one of my oldest friends, and in all that time, you’ve never said anything about your dad other than he was dead. It’s like there’s a wall around it and you refuse to let anyone in. So it’s time you let that down.” Trevor turned to James, who was nodding along. Brent was being overpowered, and damn it all if he could stand up to the three of them. “You know we all care, so unwind this chain that’s wrapped around your waist and let it go.”

  James felt his way over to wrap his arms around Brent. “Even I can tell that it weighs on you. What have you got to lose?”

  “Only the fact that everyone I know will have proof that I’m a loser.” Brent couldn’t stand up to this onslaught, and motioned to the chairs. Everyone might as well get comfortable.

  Trevor helped James over to a chair, and James searched for the table with his hands. Then he set up his tablet and had Scott adjust it so he could see the screen. Apparently he was going to act as interpreter.

  “I’m not comfortable with this.”

  “I know,” Trevor told him. “But think of it this way. Scott cares about you enough to call us and risk your wrath because he wants to help you. This isn’t some deep-seated curiosity on his part. This is hurting you. He can feel it, as can the rest of us. Do you remember a few months ago when those guys tried to rob the garage? You did what they asked and then notified the police. But you beat yourself up over it for weeks. I didn’t understand it. You followed my instructions and did what was right, but you still felt like shit.”

  “I should have stood up to them—instead, I nearly crapped myself.” Brent turned away. “I’m just a huge coward.”

  “No, you aren’t. You kept a cool head, did what they wanted, got a good look at them, and the police caught them and recovered the money within a few hours. Think about it. Those boys could have hurt Lee, Scott, or anyone else. They were out of their minds on crack and dipshitness. You brought the incident to an end with no one getting hurt. What is wrong with that?” Trevor caught him in his gaze, and Brent walked around the table to sit next to Scott on the sofa. It looked like they weren’t going to let him off the hook.

  “Why do you feel that you’re a coward?” Scott asked as he handed him back the sheet of paper from earlier. “Please tell me.”

  Brent nodded and tried to get his thoughts together. “I was fourteen. I remember that day like it was yesterday, because I see it all the time in my dreams.” He waited while James typed. “My dad was with the Milwaukee Police Department. He was a detective, and I was really proud of him.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Trevor said softly.

  “Because I never talk about it. He worked on lots of cases and was good at his job. At least that’s what everyone told me. Anyway, I wanted to go swimming, and Dad said he’d take me to one of the park pools. They had waterslides and diving boards, and I really wanted to go, so he took me. It was supposed to be one of those things we did together. It was about five, I guess. Dad said we’d go late so we didn’t get sunburned. Anyway, we both had suits on and he brought me over. We went swimming, and as usual, he and I had a lot of fun.” Brent turned away, looking toward the kitchen. Anywhere but at them. “My dad and I…. He was so special. Other kids used to beg for attention. Dad and I loved doing stuff together.” He wiped his eyes. Brent had already cried over losing his dad so many times, he wasn’t going to do it again.

  “The pool was closing, so we’d changed and left the area, heading to the car. My birthday had been the week before, and Dad had gotten me a pair of Jordans and the coolest clothes because I’d asked him for them. So I was wearing them, and some kid came up to us with a knife. As soon as he got close, my dad pushed me behind him and started talking to the kid, who threatened him if I didn’t hand over my shoes.”

  Brent groaned and thought about how to continue. “Dad handed me the keys and said to get in the car, lock the doors, and if I had to, drive away. Dad had started teaching me how to drive, at least the basics, so I knew what to do. I got in as Dad continued talking to the kid, and I did as Dad said, locking the doors. I got the keys in the engine, my hands shaking, and turned it on. I thought my dad was going to get in, so I waited to unlock the doors. We could get away th
en. There was a radio in the car, so I used it, trying to call for help.

  “I turned back to Dad to try to tell him that I had help on the way, and the guy lunged for him. I could hear him screaming. He was probably seventeen and he… he….” Brent was afraid to close his eyes. If he did, he’d see it all over again. “The guy tore into my dad. There was blood all over the windows, and I sat in there, screaming, and crawled down onto the floor of the car. I was too afraid to move. There was blood everywhere. My dad’s blood.”

  Brent shook. Scott stayed still and then hugged him. “None of this is your fault.”

  “Bullshit. I hid in the car as that guy cut my dad to pieces. He wasn’t on duty and was just another guy, and I hid while my dad died. By the time help got there, he was gone. Dad was dead, and the guy had run off. They caught him, but I was… I had to go to court and tell everyone how I was too scared to help my dad.” Brent buried his face in his hands.

  “What about your mom? What does she say?”

  Brent shook his head. “What was she supposed to say? She’s my mom and has always said it wasn’t my fault. That I did the right thing, but all she was afraid of was that I’d have been killed too.”

  The room remained silent, only broken by the sound of keys clicking softly as James typed.

  “Maybe she’s right. You could have been killed. This guy took out an experienced police officer. He was dangerous, probably high. Your dad knew that and wanted to protect you. That was his first thought.”

  “But he was my dad.” Why didn’t they understand? “I saw him die, and I did nothing. He was the most important person in my life, and I cowered on the floor while he was killed and then the man who did it ran away. At least that’s what they told me once they got me out of the car. I was too scared to move, so they had to carry me out of the car and to an ambulance.” Brent shook, and Scott held him tighter. “I looked back and saw my dad’s body on the ground. He was on his side and was covered in blood. I screamed and tried to get to him, but everyone just shook their heads. They did the best they could for me, but I knew, I’ve always known, that I cowered while some asshole killed my dad. I should have helped him. I should have been there for him the way he always was for me. And I wasn’t.” Brent sighed, his throat dry. He coughed and couldn’t stop. Trevor went to the kitchen and brought him a glass of water. Brent drank half of it down and set it on the coffee table.