It helped. The company, the atmosphere, the music, all pushed the memories to the back of his brain. Probably wasn’t going to make the shame go away—Jesus, blubbering on Danny’s shoulder like a baby—but if Danny could act as if it never happened, so could Brad.
Brad closed his eyes, lulled by the song and the companionable silence of the group. One song turned into two, then three, and before he knew it, darkness enveloped their camp. Connie stood up and went to Bobby’s truck, dragging Brad’s attention back from wherever his mind had wandered. She returned a moment later with a full plastic grocery bag and a handful of thin metal rods, each about two and a half feet long. “S’mores,” she announced, pulling a bag of marshmallows out and tossing it to Danny. He immediately tore open the plastic packaging and popped a marshmallow into his mouth.
“I don’t think I’ve had S’mores before,” Brad said, watching as Connie set a box of graham crackers and a sleeve of chocolate bars on the top of the red cooler behind her camp chair.
“No way!” Danny goggled at him, his words muffled by the mouthful of marshmallow. He swallowed. “Connie, we’ve got to hook this guy up!”
Connie handed Brad a metal rod with a little fork at the end of it.
“Rule number one,” Connie said as she continued to pass out roasting sticks, “do not poke anyone in the butt with this—”
“Hey!” Danny interjected. “You totally deserved it!”
“—no matter how much you think they deserve it.”
“Man, I was ten,” Danny said, his smile flashing bright in the dark of the night around them. “It’s the kind of thing a ten-year-old does. You’d think she’d be over it by now.”
“I had to put a bandage on my ass.” She glared at Danny and pointed her rod at him.
Bobby laughed and pulled her onto his lap. “Poor baby. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
Manny groaned. “Dude, that’s my sister. I don’t need to know that!”
At the same time, Connie pushed away from Bobby. “Pervert.” She was smiling, though.
“Later,” Bobby mouthed, and winked at her.
What would it be like to have that? Not the sexy, flirty actions of a couple who’d been together for a while, but also the silly back-and-forth between cousins who’d known each other since birth. Was it even possible for him?
“Rule two.” Danny pulled out a white blob and stabbed it onto the forked end of Brad’s rod. “You want to roast your marshmallow carefully.” He repeated the process with his own roasting stick. “You want to hold it right above the red coals, rotating it periodically.” He demonstrated the process.
Brad followed suit. The white surface of the marshmallow started to turn a toasty brown.
“Then, before it gets too dark, you pull it out.”
Brad withdrew his marshmallow from the coals and it started to slide down the metal rod.
“Next,” Danny said, grabbing a graham cracker and breaking it into two pieces along the center perforation and then cracking off a chunk of chocolate from the bars on the cooler, “you quickly put a piece of chocolate on the one cracker—set it on your knee if you have to—and squish the roasted marshmallow on top, using the other half of the cracker.”
With a flourish, Danny presented Brad with the finished product. He leaned the roasting rod against his knee and took a big bite. “Ooey, gooey, goodness. This is why I go camping.”
Brad tried to emulate Danny’s example. He succeeded, for the most part, but not before he coated his fingers in sticky sugar and chocolate.
“Well, aren’t you going to try it?” Paige watched him expectantly.
“Here goes nothing.” Brad eyed the treat before taking a big bite. Even as flavor exploded on his tongue, the crackers broke and crumbled. “Umph.” He managed to catch the gooey pieces before they landed on his lap. A string of melted marshmallow dripped down his chin.
The others around the fire laughed at him.
“Rule number three,” Bobby said as he skewered his own marshmallow, “be careful. They can make a mess.”
Brad shoved the rest of it into his mouth. “Thanks,” he mumbled. Using his thumb, he wiped away the dangling string of marshmallow from his chin.
“You missed a spot.” Danny pointed at his own bottom lip.
His fingers were covered in goo, so Brad licked at the spot, tasting chocolate. “Did I get it?”
When Danny didn’t answer, Brad looked up from his messy hands.
“Danny? Did I get it?” The way Danny was staring at his mouth made something in his gut pull tight. Brad licked his lip.
“Stop mooning at Brad and pass the marshmallows,” Bobby demanded, gesturing for the bag.
Danny shook his head as if to clear it. A sneaky tendril of satisfaction slid through Brad. It was a little hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like Danny might have been blushing when he tossed the marshmallows to Bobby.
Brad looked down at his hand, rubbing at a smudge of chocolate. He tuned out the random conversation going on around him. Had anything he’d ever done caused that kind of reaction? Forget that he wasn’t in a position to get into any kind of relationship. Forget that he was determined to keep his distance. Danny’s gaze had been pure heat. Hot as hell and all because of him.
“There’s a pack of baby wipes in the tub in the back of the truck.”
The mention of baby wipes put an end to that satisfying thought. “What?” He looked up at Connie.
“Wipes,” she said, nodding at his hands. “Unless you want to walk to the restroom at the other end of the camping area, the wipes will clean up the marshmallow mess.”
“Right.” Brad stood and glanced over at Danny, who stared into the fire pit. A cold sweat broke out across Brad’s face at the way the blue and orange flames licked up the charred remains of a log. He shook it off and watched his steps as best he could in the growing darkness. The last thing he needed was to step in a hole and break an ankle.
“Shit! Damn it. Manny, watch your stick!”
Brad turned to see Paige glaring at her boyfriend.
“Watch your own stick.” Manny scooted his chair back a few inches and whipped his roasting rod out of the fire. “I hate it when they’re burnt like this.” The marshmallow, no longer white, blazed like a torch.
The fiery marshmallow became the center of Brad’s world. The outside of the marshmallow, black and cracking, got darker and crispier by the second. In his mind the image of the marshmallow morphed into an arm with the fabric of a T-shirt smoldering, blackening, burning away until the skin below followed suit.
Across the fire, Manny waved his roasting stick, dousing the flame. With a quick jerk of his wrist, the burnt chunk flew off the forked end of the rod and landed on a log in the fire pit where it immediately lit up in flames again. “Burn, baby, burn!” Manny whooped.
That was it. Something broke inside Brad. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Adrenaline rushed through him, making his stomach quiver and lurch. Light-headed, he dropped to the ground, landing in a heap. Blood rushed in his ears, echoing like the ocean tide. With every pulse, the weight of the looming pine trees pressed down upon him and nausea licked at his belly like the tongues of flame in the fire pit.
Voices echoed dimly around him, indistinct against the barrage of sounds in his head. Brad pressed his fisted hands over his ears in an attempt to stop the terrified screams, cold laughter, and the crackle of burning wood that was the background noise for a flashing slide show of horrific images. He might not have been there when Nolan assaulted Carson, but he’d seen the pictures. His imagination supplied the rest.
Flesh, raw and blistered. A body wrapped in gauze. Machines hissing and beeping. The astringent scent of hospital disinfectant. Blue eyes hidden beneath a mass of swollen cheeks and eyelids.
Fa
g.
Deviant.
Bile rose in his throat and his chest hurt.
“Brad?”
He didn’t know how long he lay there before he fought through the panic attack and recognized Danny’s voice.
“C’mon, Brad, breathe.”
Brad sucked in a breath and the aching pain in his chest eased. Three gulps of air later and the world stopped spinning around him. Four people stood in a circle above him, looks ranging from confusion to concern on their faces. Danny squatted next to him, brushing Brad’s hair away from his sweat-soaked forehead. “There you go.” The soothing words and comforting gestures helped rein in the chaos of his thoughts.
A loud pop and the shifting of logs had his stomach lurching.
“Crap,” he croaked, and tried to crawl away from the truck. He’d barely passed the left rear tire before he started to hurl. When his stomach was empty, dry heaves continued to rack his body.
He didn’t resist when Danny scooted behind him and pulled him back against his chest. He lay there, letting his friend support him as he tried to catch his breath. He didn’t have the strength to keep his head up, so when it lolled back and rested on Danny’s shoulder, Brad didn’t make any effort to lift it. He didn’t deserve the comfort, but he let Danny’s warmth seep into his clammy body anyway.
“You okay?” Danny asked a few moments later.
Brad tried to sit up straight, to put some distance between them, but for some reason gravity seemed to be working overtime on him, making his limbs heavier than they should be. Danny’s arms wrapped around his chest, pulling him closer. It had been a long time since anyone had held him. He hadn’t known how desperately he’d missed it, how much he needed it.
He sighed and his body went lax. Just for a minute, he told himself. Just a minute.
“Danny?” Connie called from the other side of the truck. “Is everything okay?”
Danny didn’t answer right away. Brad could practically feel him considering the question. “Everything’s fine,” Danny finally said. “Give us a couple of minutes.”
Brad closed his eyes, blocking out the flickering light that barely illuminated the campsite. “I can’t stay here. Not now.” Equal parts embarrassment over his breakdown, fear of trying to explain himself and the knowledge of exactly how close he was to falling apart again warred inside him.
“Okay.” Danny squeezed his arms a little more tightly around Brad. His voice was soft, understanding. If anything, it made Brad feel worse.
“Do you think it would be okay if I took your Jeep? I can come back tomorrow afternoon and pick you up.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’ll drive you back. You’re not in any condition to drive right now.”
“I don’t want to ruin the rest of your weekend. I’ve already made an ass of myself tonight.” Then, as an afterthought he said, “Besides, I’m fine.”
Danny snorted and Brad tried to turn so he could meet his eyes. The angle was wrong and he wasn’t altogether sure that if he turned his head his whole body wouldn’t follow suit until he’d flopped back on the ground.
“Brad, you’re not as fine as you think you are. Your pulse is too fast and you’re still shaking. There’s no way you’re going to be able to make a two-hour drive.”
God, he wanted to get out of there. No, screw that, he needed to get away, away from the fire and the people who’d been forced to observe his little freak-out.
“But your family—” he began.
“Will understand,” Danny interjected.
“But...” Brad stopped as a particularly bad tremor coursed through him, as if proving Danny’s point about not being fit to drive. This wasn’t his first panic attack—though it had been a while—and as soon as the adrenaline rush was over the crash would come, and come hard. It would be safer if someone else drove.
“You know—” he swallowed hard, “—I’ll be fine. It’s one night. I’m sure I only need a few minutes to chill and get up the nerve to face Connie, Manny and the others.”
Manny’s voice drifted over. “What do you think that was all about?” He’d whispered the question, but he might as well have shouted it. Sound carried in the wilderness, and the truck wasn’t very far from the fire circle.
Brad slumped. “Are you sure you don’t mind? You’ve been looking forward to this.”
Danny chuckled and ducked his head to rub his forehead along Brad’s shoulder. “I was excited to spend the weekend with you. Camping I can take or leave. Sure, it’s fun to hang out with the cousins and friends, or whoever, but I mostly was glad for the chance to hang out with you outside of work.”
Brad wanted to protest when Danny released his hold on him and stood up. “We’d better get going if we want to get back before dawn.” He reached down and Brad let himself be hauled to his feet.
“Yeah, I guess we’d better.” He nearly fell, his knees trembled so badly, but Danny grabbed his waist and walked with him to the Jeep, then helped him up into the seat.
“Let me grab our packs and then we’ll be off.”
“We need to take down the tent and—”
Danny cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. Connie and the guys will take care of it all. I’ll let them know we’re leaving and I’ll grab our stuff.”
Brad groaned and closed his eyes. Everyone was going to think he was some kind of basket case.
“Don’t worry about it,” Danny repeated, gripping Brad’s shoulder before returning to the others.
Brad couldn’t hear everything being said as the others talked, but he recognized the tones of the murmuring. Concern. Curiosity. No ridicule as far as he could tell, but they’d probably wait until he and Danny were gone before they started gossiping about him.
Panic attacks always left him exhausted, and his mind drifted while he waited. It had been years since he’d relied on anyone to help him. Maybe he could trust Danny not to let him fall.
Chapter Thirteen
“It was the fire, you know.”
Danny took his eyes off the dark, empty highway long enough to look over at Brad, who had been asleep for the past hour. In the dim light from the dash, Brad’s pale skin glowed a sickly green, his eyes dark and too big for his face.
“I had no idea a fire and something as stupid as a burning marshmallow would trigger a panic attack,” Brad continued, staring out the passenger side window.
“It makes sense,” Danny said. He’d had time to think during the past hour of driving. “You were already a little keyed up after telling me about Carson. I think it was too much so your brain sort of shut down.”
“You must think I’m a complete nut job.”
“No,” Danny said quickly, “I think you’re someone who’s got a lot on his mind.” He couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Brad think otherwise.
“Yeah, a lot on my mind and I’m too much of a pussy to deal with it.”
“Have you thought about seeing someone? A counselor or psychologist?”
Brad snorted. “Yeah, right. Shrinks are for the weak-minded. Greenes do not require mental help. They pull themselves up by their bootstraps and get over it.”
Danny assumed he was quoting someone. One of his parents, probably. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway. My family has an image to uphold. Being gay was enough to get me sent to military school. Seeing a psychologist would probably have been enough to have me institutionalized.”
Danny wanted to argue, to tell Brad he was an adult and could make his own decisions. Hadn’t he already tried cutting all the ties with his family? It wasn’t his place, though. Not yet, at any rate.
“I told you I wasn’t a good bet.” Brad’s voice was quiet, almost too soft to hear. It was almost like a question instead of a statement, as th
ough Brad wasn’t quite as sure as he had been.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Danny gripped the steering wheel to keep from touching him. But Brad was too locked up inside protective walls to accept the comfort at the moment. Out of the corner of his eye, Danny watched Brad pull his feet onto the seat in front of him and wrap his arms around his bent legs until he could rest his forehead against his knees. “Don’t play dumb.” A bitter laugh accompanied the words.
“So you have panic attacks.” Danny slowed to take a sharp turn along the rural road. “Not discounting the cause of them, but they hardly make you high maintenance or dangerous.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Explain it to me. I want to understand. I do.”
“I’ll let you down. Something will happen and you’ll get hurt and it will be my fault.”
“What happened with Carson wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”
“It was my fault. I was stupid. Selfish. Because I was, he nearly died! I saw...” His voice cracked. “I saw pictures from the hospital. It was so horrible. He...he didn’t even look real. His face was swollen and bruised from the beating and half his body was covered in burns. It was something out of a nightmare.”
Danny slowed the Jeep and pulled over to the side of the road. He hit his flashers, released his seat belt, then turned to Brad. He had curled himself into a ball. Danny cupped his hand around Brad’s face and urged him to look up. When Brad did, Danny said, “Not. Your. Fault.”
“It’s not just that, though.”
“What else is it?”
There was a long pause. Danny wasn’t sure if Brad would answer. “I still love Nolan.”
“What?” Danny didn’t know where he thought the conversation was going, but that direction hadn’t crossed his mind.
“How twisted is that? He did something so hateful, so horrible, but I still love him. I mean, he’s still my brother. I can’t turn it off. And he’s in jail now for what he and his friends did. And that’s good and right, but it’s my fault. Again, it’s my fault. If I wasn’t the way I am, he’d never have done what he did. And now he’s in jail and I want him to stay there and I hate him for what he did. But...I love him too. How can I hate him and love him at the same time?”
Nobody’s Hero Page 10