Learning-to-Feel (19 page)

He looked at me, and I at him. "He doesn't mind," I said, and Trent smiled genuinely this time.

And I snapped Bentley's leg, realigning the bone.

Trent paled, the color drained from his face. Steve quickly grabbed him before he fell, took him by the arm and led him out the door. "We'll just wait in the hall," Steve said. "I'll make sure no one comes in."

I finished bandaging the leg while Carla cleaned up the cuts and scrapes. She bathed him the best she could so I could suture a few more gashes. We worked in amicable silence, and when we were done, I opened the door. Trent looked up at me. He’d got some color back in his face, and he asked, "Is he okay?"

I nodded. "You need to take him. If anyone else sees him here, I
will
get reported."

He nodded quickly. "Thank you…I, I need…could we…"

I cut him off. "Trent, do me a favor and get Bentley out of here. He'll be sedated for a while yet. Keep him off his leg, keep him warm and keep an eye on him." Then I added softly, "If you don’t want to stay at the house I'll understand, but you're welcome to... if you need somewhere to stay."

"Of course I'll stay," he said quickly. "I'll wait up," he said quietly, then looked at the Chief, who was watching us.

It was awkward between us, so much needed to be said.

"I'll be home as soon as I can," I said, looking back to the radiology room. "I'll be disinfecting every inch of that room three times over for the next few hours."

He offered to help and I told him to leave. I was still mad and very fucking hurt, and I’d just jeopardized my entire career. Trent gently picked up Bentley, and I knew he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Carla, Steve and I watched him leave. When he was gone, Steve rocked back on his heels. He cleared his throat and said, "Always knew there must have been a reason why you turned down a date with my daughter."

I snorted, and Carla giggled. Then the Chief said, "If you want to make sure he stays, I could put him under house arrest?"

I laughed. "I'll keep it in mind."

* * * *

It was late when I got home. The house was mostly dark, but I could see a flickering light. Tentatively, I walked into the living room, unsure of what I would find. But he was there
.
He’d lit the fire, and Bentley was lying down on his bed in front of it. I looked at Trent, and he looked uneasy, nervous... sorry.

I had to clear my throat so I could speak. "How's Bentley?"

Trent's voice was quiet. "He’s been awake, but he’s gone back to sleep. Thank you, again, for doing what you did. The vet's was closed, and I didn't know what else to do... "

Then I remembered. "Lucas and Simone are away," I said. "Their father passed away."

He looked at me, and there was a brief flash of recognition in his eyes. "I saw you hug him…I saw you and Lucas, and I panicked. I thought…I thought…" he took a deep breath and exhaled loudly.

"Trent-"

"Please let me finish, Nathan." He swallowed and took another deep breath. "I saw you with him, and I thought you'd be better off with someone like him, rather than someone who's closed off like me. I made the decision to leave right then and there. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I knew this was different from the very beginning. I should have stopped it then, but I didn't. I was selfish, and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you."

I put my hand up. "If you've come back to twist the knife a little further, please don’t."

"No!" he said quickly, "No, that’s not why I’m here."

"Then why
are
you here?" I asked him sharply. "
Why?
You. Left. Me. Remember?"

He tried to speak, but I wouldn't let him.

I jabbed my finger into my chest. "I came out, for fuck's sake. I came out! Fucking hell, Trent," I said, throwing my hands up. My anger came back with a surge. "My entire world gets turned on its head. I realized I was gay, I fell in love with a
man
, I was prepared to give
him
everything, and what did I get in return?"

His face fell, but he stayed quiet.

"A fucking painting," I said, motioning to the canvas painted in different reds - the
farewell note
– he’d left for me, it still sat on the table. "I mean, it’s great, don’t get me wrong," I was being sarcastic now, and I couldn’t seem to stop myself. "But gee, I could think of something that would have been more appropriate. Like a goodbye! What the
Hell
was the painting supposed to mean anyway?"

He opened his mouth and closed it again before he spoke. His voice was so quiet, it was barely a breath. "…it’s my heart. I left it with you."

And my breath, all my fight, all my anger, left in a whoosh.

He gave me his heart...

He saw my resolve stumble, and he started talking, desperately. "I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to listen. Please." His eyes were wide and honest, and his chest was heaving, rapid breaths. "Please, I need to say this without getting it wrong. I
couldn't
leave. I tried. I did, but it got harder to breathe every mile I put between us. I had to pull off to the side of the road, I couldn't breathe."

His breathing was becoming labored now. He was taking deep breaths, but it didn't seem to be working. He was gasping almost…

"Trent calm down, please."

He shook his head. "All my life I’ve been on my own. Since I was sixteen Nathan, I’ve had to look out for myself. I’d never been close to anyone, not since my parents died... my aunt and uncle didn't want me because I was gay." He pushed the palm of his hand against his ribs, like they hurt. "There was a guy in Texas, I thought I loved him…I told him I loved him, and he…he…"

He was
gasping. H
is words were all running together because he was trying to talk too fast, and he wasn’t breathing properly.

"Since then, I’ve only ever used people for sex... never anything more. I never let anyone else in. I couldn't risk being hurt like that again... then you came along, and I knew it was different from the start."

I tried to listen to him, but he was breathing too hard, as though he was about to hyperventilate. He was having a panic attack.

"Trent," I said his name calmly. "I need you to calm down. Take some deep breaths for me." He gulped at the air, and he closed his eyes tight. I tried to soothe him, "Trent, it’s okay. Just breathe."

I found myself walking over to him. I put my hand on his shoulder, and it seemed to help calm him. "Remember when you told me," I said as I took some deep breaths to help regulate his breathing, "you told me to breathe. You calmed me down, remember? When we first met, and I freaked out?"

He nodded and tried to smile. After some deep inhalations his breathing seemed to steady a little.

Then he said, "I’m just so sorry, Nathan. You told me how you felt, and I fucked it up by leaving." Then he said, "It had been so perfect, here with you. Just like a real relationship from the very start. I'd told myself for years I'd never have that." He swallowed hard again and took another deep breath. "I’ve never wanted something so bad."

"What are you trying to say, Trent?"

He looked like he was about to be sick. His voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear him. "I’m scared."

And from the look in his eyes, I didn’t doubt it. He looked scared. I wrapped my hand around his neck and pulled his face into my neck. His breathing started to accelerate again, and I whispered, "Breathe."

And he did. His hands went to my waist, fisting into my shirt, his forehead was against my collarbone, and I could feel him shaking.

Quietly, I asked him, "Did you come back for me?"

He nodded yes.

"Is that what you're scared about?"

He nodded yes.

"Are you scared for your heart?"

He nodded again, and he started to cry.

"Trent, you hurt me," I told him honestly, and I felt his body recoil from my words. I held him tighter. "Look at me."

I could tell he didn't want to, but reluctantly he lifted his head. There was defeat and resignation and tears in his eyes. I told him, "When I told you how I felt and you walked out, it felt like a hole had been punched through my chest. I didn't know what else I could have done to make you want me. I told you I had feelings for you... all those times I asked you to have sex with me... "

His eyes closed and tears fell down his cheeks. "It was never you," he sobbed quietly. "All those times, every single time you wanted me to, it was never you that wasn't ready." His eyes opened, and he looked
into
me. "It was me. I knew. I just knew if I did that, with you, then it wouldn't be just sex anymore. I knew I was falling for you, and it scared me... "

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He sobbed, and his tears fell freely. His voice was so, so quiet. "Because everyone I love leaves me."

His pain was killing me, so I held him tighter against me. "So you thought you'd leave me first, before I could leave you?"

He nodded against me and cried harder. "I’m sorry," he sobbed, over and over. "I’m so sorry."

I took his face in my hands and wiped his tears with my thumbs. "No more apologies. No more tears." I kissed his cheeks and tasted salt water.

"Don’t ever, ever leave me again," I told him, and his eyes opened wide. They were blue, red and puffy, and they sparkled with disbelief and hope.

"Where else am I gonna go," he said shakily. "I couldn't get any farther than Littleport. It nearly killed me. It nearly killed Bentley…"

I smiled sadly at him. "You silly man. Next time, talk to me."

"Next time? You mean you forgive me?" He was almost pleading.

"Of course I forgive you," I told him, and he exhaled in a huff and smiled. "I love you, Trent Jamieson."

He started to cry again, but these were happy tears, tears of relief. I held him for the longest time. His breathing was back to normal, so I kissed him, softly, sweetly. Our bodies started to sway. We were dancing almost, there was no music, no lights, just us, the fire and a sleeping dog in a darkened lounge room. And I was holding him, and he was clutching me like he never wanted to let me go.

He didn't say he loved me, not in so many words.

But I knew he did.

I felt it in his tears on my neck, the way he gripped onto me, holding me, and when he looked at me, it was there in his eyes. I saw it.

And without words, his lips pressed to mine, and he loved me with his kiss. It was sweet and tender and sure. His eyes were closed, and he was so lost in kissing me. It was there in the way his hands touched my face, the way he caressed me.

And we danced like that for a long while. Slow dancing to no music, moving and kissing, never parting, not even for a second. I felt his desire, his growing erection, pressing against me, and I knew he could feel mine, but there was no grabbing or pulling, there was no urgency.

But I needed him. I needed for him to claim me as his own.

My feet stopped moving, and my hands cupped his jaw. I whispered against his lips, "Make love to me."

He made a strangled whimpering sound and nodded. He kissed me harder this time, more purposefully, with more desire.

Then he took my hand, and without another word, we walked upstairs and led me into my room. He unbuttoned my shirt slowly and kissed every inch of skin he exposed. His hands trailed over my chest, my shoulders. When he undid my pants, he pushed them over my hips and allowed them to simply fall to the floor. Ignoring my hard-on, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.

Languidly, lovingly, his tongue tasted me and teased me. It was different this time.
He
was different this time. I knew this was it. I knew what I was about to give him. More importantly, I knew what he was about to give me.

Love.

Seconds, minutes, hours later, I was lying down on my bed, naked, exposed and wanting, needing. He was between my legs, equally naked, but he was more exposed than me. Even though it was him that had his hands on me and his fingers inside me, it was me that held his heart in my hands.

He was giving himself, his heart, for the first time. Just like me. And when he pressed his condom sheathed cock against me, it was me that comforted him. He was trembling, nervous and vulnerable, and when he slipped the head of his cock inside me, I cupped my hand to his cheek. His eyes bored into me, and there was no disguise.

Not this time.

There was the burn of him stretching me, but he’d prepared me well. He was patient and slow. Loving. He was trembling and his breath gasping, but he didn't rush, as much as his body protested. Leaning on his elbows, his nose touched mine. He kissed me, consumed me, gently, perfectly.

Then he was inside of me, all of him, every inch of him. When he slid back out and pushed in again, his eyes rolled closed. He groaned low in his throat, and he moaned my name every time he moved.

His hands were on my face, his thumbs on my lips. Slowly, he thrust, and my hips rose. He pushed into me, so far inside of me. I cradled him in my arms, with my legs, and his eyes told me he loved me. I could see the words he couldn’t say.

"Nathan," he breathed.

"I know," I whispered against his skin.

He nodded, and closed his eyes, tears slid down his cheeks. His entire body was trembling, and he pushed himself further inside me, pulling out and sliding back in, he told me with his body that he loved me.

I pushed my hips up, somehow needing more of him, and I kissed him hungrily. His hands curled under my shoulders as he thrust deeper, longer, harder. When he plunged his tongue into my mouth, his whole body convulsed violently.

He cried as he came, and I held him together while he fell apart. He sobbed as he stilled over me and inside me. I felt his cock spilling, surging into the condom.

His face buried into my neck as his orgasm subsided, and his breathing hitched as he tried to contain his emotions. I pulled his face into my hands, and made him look at me. "I love you," I told him.

He nodded, and his eyes closed. He pulled out of me, discarded the condom and came back with a warm, wet cloth. He cleaned me, cared for me, without a word, and the emotions of the last two days bore a sleepy weight on me I just couldn’t fight.