A red tainted Silence (12 page)

“Oh, Brandon,” he said wearily. “So you pulled back. And that’s when it did start to spoil for me. For us both.”

I nodded and stared at a tiny hole in my cargo pants I hadn’t noticed before. I didn’t look up as the sheets rustled and the bed creaked. The hole blurred. Had I lost him again?

Had the confession of what I’d done -- and not done -- ruined any chance we had together?

My breath hitched; my stomach clenched. I wrapped my arms around myself as a black hole of despair bearing my name reached up and grabbed me and pulled me inside.

It scared me.

“Brandon.” When I didn’t move, he reached up and cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. My breath caught when I saw the expression in his eyes -- disbelief, sadness, irritation, yeah, but compassion, too. “I wouldn’t have cared about the tape. I wouldn’t have cared who saw it. You mattered far, far more to me than any old tape, my reputation, what have you. And besides, it’s not like we would’ve lost that many fans. They weren’t stupid. I always thought it was pretty obvious the way I felt about you, up there on stage.” 64 Carolyn Gray

“I’m sorry,” I said, unable to think of anything beyond that. “I’m sorry, Nicholas.” I bowed my head, pulling away from his touch. I couldn’t bear it. I felt such the fool, a lonely, stupid fool.

But Nicholas wasn’t done with me yet. He took me by the shoulders, pulling at me. I hesitated, then realized I couldn’t fight with him over this, didn’t want to. I let myself be pulled stiffly to his chest. I sensed the detective walking past. The two cops left with him. In a moment, we were alone. I felt a sob wrack through me -- a sob of relief as his hands carefully rubbed my back, my arms. I collapsed against him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I said, over and over again.

He hushed me, kissing the tears from my cheek. “What’s done is done. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“But it does, Nicholas, it does. That wasn’t Percy. All this time, it wasn’t Percy. Who was it?” I asked, bewildered.

He pulled me even closer to him, and I found myself curled up against him. His hands didn’t stop the soothing, stroking. I sighed against his neck, realizing just how good and special it felt. I hadn’t let myself be cared for in so long. I was so used to the role fate had assigned me that first night -- paladin, white knight, protector, caretaker -- even though I hadn’t actually played that role since that day we went our separate ways. I didn’t know what to do. How to act. I had to fight against pushing away. I sensed, deep down, that this was important to us, important to our recovery.

Our healing.

I had to let go. I had to let him take care of me.

It might be the only way we survived this.

Hot tears continued to cascade down my cheeks, soaking his hospital gown. My fingers stroked the soft curls of hair at his throat, finding comfort in the familiar fuzziness that was Nicholas.

“It’s not over, is it?” he said softly, brushing my hair back from my face. I closed my eyes. “Some crazy idiot’s still after us.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are we going to do?” he whispered, rubbing his cheek against my forehead.

“How do we find out who’s been running our lives all this time, eh?” I don’t think he expected an answer. I had none to give. “I’m scared, Nick.” I found incredible relief in the admittance.

“So am I,” he said with a chuckle. “But we need to do this.”

“The press conference,” I said dully.

“Yeah. Let’s fight this bastard, okay? Together. Look at me, Brandon.” A Red-Tainted Silence

65

I pulled back and did as he asked. He shook his head at me. “Look at what I did to you,” he said, but at my expression of denial a fierce glint shined in his eye. “No, it’s my fault, too.

That you felt you had no other choice than to pay the guy. I made you what you were just as much as you made me what I was. But we aren’t what we were anymore. Now we are what we are, today. And he doesn’t know us, does he?” He cocked his head and grinned. “If that makes sense.”

“In an odd way, yeah, it does,” I said, caught by the heated look in his eyes.

“We did some pretty interesting things in Hawaii,” he said, his gaze raking over my face.

I wiped my cheeks, embarrassed -- my eyes were puffing from the wild rage of emotions of the last few minutes. “Yes, we did.”

“Remember that little sliver of beach we found, the little pail and shovel Lee bought for me?”

“And the wine. Don’t forget the wine.”

“Hey, I didn’t drink it. That was you.”

My face heated even more and I burst out laughing. “What a mistake that was.” I’d passed out from the heat and the cheap wine, within an hour of finding our little private cove. I’d been exhausted from the plane ride -- back then, I’d still hated flying.

Hadn’t understood it. Now I have my pilot’s license, but then flying had been sheer torment and left me wrung out. But I hadn’t been able to resist Nick’s enthusiasm. He’d wanted to hit the beach immediately, so of course I’d gone along. And had paid the price for falling asleep on him.

He smiled at me wistfully. “You made a most interesting foundation for a sand castle.”

“Especially the flagpole.”

His smile spread to his eyes, but then he sobered. “Brandon, I’m sorry, too. Man, we had a lot of fun, but we sure made our share of mistakes. There were some things we did right, though.”

I smirked. “Such as?”

“We made beautiful music together.”

I nodded, stunned by his simple assuredness. “Yeah, we did, didn’t we?” His mouth drew my gaze. He noticed, bit his lower lip, and then slowly let it pull from between his teeth. Tease. He knew how much I loved his lips. Fat lips, he always called them. To me they were perfection.

I didn’t wait for further invitation, but captured them with my own. His tongue pushed between my teeth, forcing my mouth to open. I groaned. Not losing contact, I slid over his body, taking care not to hurt his side or my own broken leg. He spread his legs, allowing me 66 Carolyn Gray

to lie between them, and I settled into the familiar space. Oh, God, I hadn’t done this in so long ...

I pulled back, breathless, before capturing his mouth again. I felt the incredible sensation of his dick hardening beneath me. It dug into my stomach as we continued to kiss, but I welcomed the discomfort. My whole body was inflamed.

“Guess I am getting better,” he murmured against my lips.

“I’ll say.”

“Don’t guess that door has a lock on it, does it?” I dropped my head to his chest, chuckling. “No, dammit. But then, most patients don’t usually need to worry about getting caught making out with each other.” He kissed my nose. “We’re definitely not most patients.” My entire body shot through with heat as his hand smoothed down my side, cradled my butt, and squeezed. I captured his lips again, exploring his mouth as he allowed me to possess him. His fingers slid deeper, teasing through my cargos that intimate spot he’d once claimed as his own. I pulled back, breathless, at the provocative touch.

He grinned. “Forget to breathe again?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah.”

“Know what I’d like to do now?” I raised one eyebrow at him and he shook his head.

“It’ll be a while for that. What I want is a shower. A nice, long, hot shower. Nurse Ratched isn’t on duty anymore, is she?”

“No. The good Nurse Goodall should be here now. I’ll go find her if you’d like.” He pulled me down for another kiss. I felt a thrill run through me at the possessiveness of it, the strength that flowed through him and into me. I pulled back, shaking my head.

“No secrets, Brandon. What are you thinking?”

“How strong you’ve become. How amazing you are.”

“Ha. You heard me scream --”

“I did, and I would’ve done the same thing. You know they wouldn’t let me come to you? Pissed me off.”

He grinned. “My white knight still.”

I laughed. “You don’t need a white knight anymore, Nicholas. You do fine on your own.”

“I’ll always need you.”

I captured his sigh with my mouth and held it, the warmth of his lips pushing away the last of the coldness in my heart.

The door opened and I pulled back. We both cringed like schoolboys as Nurse Goodall entered. My face heated, and Nick’s was a nice shade of rosy pink. “Good afternoon, boys.

Guess what time it is?” she said, completely unfazed by how she’d found us.

A Red-Tainted Silence

67

I looked at Nicholas and shrugged. “Um, time to extricate me from this embarrassing position?”

She laughed at that. “Time to get those stitches out. Then it’s to the showers for both of you.” She smiled at us, then frowned in mock sternness as Nicholas and I eyed each other.

“Alone. You’ll have to save that for when you get out of here. Now come on, Mr. Ashwood.

To your room. I’ll take care of Mr. Kilmain.”

I eased off Nicholas, grateful she’d busied herself with preparing the bathroom. I bent down and kissed him one more time. My gaze roved over his obvious erection, which he was vainly trying to smooth away with his hand. “Think about fat men in Speedos,” I whispered, laughing as he swatted me on the butt.

I grabbed my crutches and swung past Nurse Goodall as she emerged from the bathroom, stopping to kiss her on the cheek. “Thank you.” She smiled. “Go on with you. You’ll feel much better once you get those stitches out.” She winked. “Though you seem like you’re feeling pretty good now anyway.”

“Will Nick get to go back to his room then?”

“I’ll let you know when he’s there. Go.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said.

She was right. The stitch removal went well, and I took a much needed shower, my leg wrapped up in a nice plastic sock. It was four by the time Nicholas was back in his bed again, no sign of the afternoon’s trauma evident. He’d fallen asleep, exhausted from getting his stitches (really staples) out, and from his shower, but sleep wouldn’t come to me.

I was too relieved, too happy -- despite the threat hanging over our heads -- to rest as ordered. Two hours before press conference time. I had no doubt the speculations were flying as to why the delay, but I didn’t care. Let them wait. Let those who wouldn’t, leave. I no longer felt the characteristic fear that used to come at the thought of getting in front of cameras, or the obligation to give them what they wanted.

I was in control now, and it felt damn good.

I settled into my familiar position in my chair, pulling my laptop to me and opening it.

I rested my chin on my hand and waited for it to warm up, glancing at Nicholas. He was snoring. I grinned. I settled back, finding it much more comfortable to sit now that the stitches were out. I shifted -- yeah, that was good, no more pulling. I started to open my story to pick up where I’d left off.

But first, I put on my headphones, opened my playlist, and played the first selection. As Nick’s voice filled my ears, I felt the memories of the past resurface, and my mind drifted to that morning in my parents’ driveway. As the song ended -- it no longer brought me to tears, though I’d never shake the regret -- I began to write again, realizing it wasn’t just for Nicholas anymore that I was doing this, but for myself as well.

The healing had begun at last.

68 Carolyn Gray

The front porch light illuminated me and Nicholas as we stood at an impasse in my parents’ driveway. I didn’t know what to do except wait and try to stay calm until someone made the next move. I swallowed hard around the lump in my throat and glanced at the darkened houses around us, praying none of the neighbors would come looking for their papers this early and notice the scene unfolding on my parents’ front lawn.

My mom’s gaze passed over me, one eyebrow rising in question as she took in the bruise on the side of my face, my bare chest. Her gaze then settled on Nicholas where he stood behind me, drifting down to my boxers that he wore. She startled a second, then smiled warmly at him, but he drew closer to me, his breath rapid and hot as it brushed against my bare neck. His nervousness reverberated through his clammy hand to mine. I squeezed it tight; he squeezed back.

“It’s good to meet you, Nicholas. You boys come on inside,” my mom said.

“Hold on.” My mom looked at my dad, surprised. He stepped in front of her, anger narrowing his eyes to slits as he bore down on me. “I think you have some explaining to do, young man,” he said. “Where the hell have you been? Adam drove all over town looking for you. You could have called.”

“Sorry, Dad. I -- I couldn’t get to a phone.”

Now I wished I hadn’t brought Nicholas home with me. Where we would’ve gone instead, I don’t know, but the look on my dad’s face made me nauseous. I could see the disbelief in his eyes as he looked from me to Nicholas and back again. We were holding hands -- that was obvious. I knew then Adam had told him what he thought of Nicholas. I A Red-Tainted Silence

69

stiffened my shoulders and looked up at my dad in defiance, steeling myself. He scowled, turned away. I cringed inside. His dismissal hurt more than I could’ve believed.

“What happened to your face, Brandon?” Jonathan said, his gaze raking over Nicholas.

“Let me guess. Fighting over your new boyfriend?”

“Jonathan,” my mom warned. “That was uncalled for.”

“Hey, just speculating. Adam said Nicholas was a pretty boy. He said that’s why you wanted him for the band even though he couldn’t sing worth a crap. Was he right, Brandon?”

“Shut up and leave Nicholas out of this, Jonathan.” I took a step toward him as anger punched through me. I’d never wanted to hit my oldest brother as much as I did right then.

Only Nick’s hand holding me back kept me from swinging at Jonathan’s smirking face.

Jonathan threw up his hands. “Hey, sorry. It doesn’t matter to me if you guys are gay. I think it’s funny. Especially with a Grade-A homophobe like Adam for a brother.”

“Quiet, Jonathan,” my dad warned.

“But they’re holding hands, Dad. Just wondering how long he’s been batting for the other team --”

My dad cut him short. “Your brother’s not gay,” he said.

“Yes, I am,” I said softly.