Learning-to-Feel (17 page)

His smile died a slow death, and mine widened. I waggled my eyebrows at him. "Didn't think so."

He was quiet for moment, then he looked at me smugly. "You should ask him out."

"What?"

He smirked. "Yeah, you two would make a cute couple."

My heart fell to my stomach. My mouth fell open, and I didn’t know if he was joking or not. I was stuck for something to come back with that didn't give me away. If I told him I would, or if I told him I wasn’t interested in anyone else, it implicated me in this emotionless farce I tried so hard to keep up.

He didn't want to know how I felt about him.

So I said nothing. I closed my mouth, hid my hurt and asked about his day instead.

* * * *

The weekend was filled with the usual hiker and backpacker injuries, sprained ankles, cuts and abrasions, rashes and one case of dehydration. How a hiker could suffer dehydration when it rained all day was beyond me.

Apart from a lack of common sense, or in some cases just sheer stupidity, I guessed I'd seen enough not to be too surprised about much. The good thing about the torrential rain over the course of the weekend was that it kept kids off motorbikes.

It also meant for cozy times on the couch and in bed with my favorite painter. It was getting harder for me to not say something to him. I wanted so badly to tell him that this,
whatever-the-hell-it-is
, meant more to me than just a physical release.

That
he
meant more to me than that.

And there were several times over the weekend where I nearly did. Like on Saturday night, after work, we'd had a few beers and were just being cozy on the couch. We both had our feet on the coffee table, and I had my head on his chest, my hand on his stomach and we watched TV and talked.

His arm was around my shoulder, his hand tracing circles on my side, and he kissed the top of my head.

That wasn’t something you did to someone you didn’t care about.

And he froze. I felt him freeze, just for a second, when he realized what he'd done. I was about to say something, the words were on my tongue, but he made a joke about scented shampoo and laughed it off.

And my words went unsaid.

Then on Sunday night it was late when I came home from work, and he was already wearing the scrubs he'd claimed as his own. He said they were the most comfortable lounge pants, and he had the shirt on because it matched.

I laughed at him and gave him my stethoscope to complete his look, and he proceeded to play doctor. He examined every inch of my body, starting at my toes and working his way up. He tested different reflexes by different touch, fingers, lips, tongue.

He was very thorough.

Afterwards, he had my stethoscope pressed to my chest, and he listened. His eyes shot to mine, and his voice was one of wonder. "I can hear your heart so clearly."

I almost broke.

I almost asked him what he heard, what it sounded like, or if he knew it only beat for him. My mouth opened, and I almost told him, but he quickly put it to his own chest and made jokes that his heartbeat was healthier and how diet and exercise meant nothing.

It was as though he wanted to let himself feel, but stopped just short of starting. Some of the things he did and said were proof he felt something, but he quickly dismissed anything serious with jokes.

I’d been in Belfast for over three weeks now, and I couldn’t help but think we were running out of time. I knew I needed to say something to him, I just wondered what the catalyst would make me actually say it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Because on Tuesday, my happy little world went to fucking hell.

Chapter 18

On the Monday after Scott was transferred back to Belfast, I found myself immersed with the families of the two boys. I liked them. They were good, honest, friendly people. And I was
in
with them.

In their eyes, I’d saved two of them. And that made me, a newbie from Boston, good with them. Monday was a good day, and that night at home with Trent, it got even better.

I fell asleep with him in my bed, happy and sated, thinking life didn't get any better.

I should have known better than to jinx myself.

Tuesday started out just fine. Leaving a still-sleeping Trent all fucking gorgeous and rumpled in my blankets, I took Bentley for my morning run. I fed him breakfast and showered. When I was dressed for work, I leaned over Trent, kissed his cheek and squeezed his ass in my hand.

He groaned. I grinned, and as I walked out the door, he threw a pillow at my head.

I was still smiling at work, and not even vomiting patients and screaming babies could dampen my spirits.

That was until I was just about to leave.

Dani Peters had been eyeing me all day. I’d managed to avoid her for the most part, but at the end of my shift she cornered me. For someone who couldn’t look at me without blushing and stammering, or tripping over thin air, she was quite tenacious.

We were standing in the hall, across from Scott's room where her friends were, where Adam was. "Nathan," she started, still not looking at me. "I don’t normally do this, but I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee sometime?"

I sighed. Fucking hell. "Dani, I um, I don’t think that’s a good idea…" I trailed off awkwardly.

"Oh," she said, and she looked like she was about to throw up.

"No, Dani, it’s not like that," I said quickly, wishing like fucking crazy a black hole would open up and swallow me.

She looked at the ground, and I swear if she started to cry, I would have stabbed myself in the leg with my pen to get away from her. But she said softly, "I just thought you might have liked me…you're always so friendly and always smile at me."

And I could have punched the ever living shit out of Trent for making me smile every time I saw her. It wasn’t like I could admit to smiling at her because we made jokes at her mental capabilities. So I went with a different kind of honesty. "Um Dani, I’m gay."

She looked at me and blinked.

And I blinked.

She looked rather shocked.

But she wasn’t as fucking shocked as me.

Oh. My. God.

I’m gay.

I. Am. Gay.

Fuck. I am. I knew I was. I think I’d known for a little while, since our trip to Boston. I'd tried not to define what-ever-the-hell-this-is and just
feel
. But there was no denying it. I was definitely not straight. Nope, crossed that off the list the day I got here. Possibly bi-sexual... Could I ever have sex with a woman again? The thought alone made me shudder.

Nope.

Did I want to do incredibly dirty things to another man? A blond haired, blue eyed man in particular?

Fucking Hell, yes.

Definitely gay.

A smile spread across my face. I looked at Dani, and she looked at me for the first time without having a brain aneurysm.

"Oh," she said again.

"Dani, you should look a little closer to home," I told her. She looked at me thoroughly confused. So I clarified, "I think Adam likes you."

"No," she rebuffed quickly. "Adam doesn't think of me like that."

I told her quietly, "Dani, that man is in love with you."

She looked from me to the man we could see in Scott's room then back to me. "Adam?" she asked softly.

I smiled and nodded. "Dani, I’ve got to go," I told her, and left her to stare at the man through the door.

I raced home to tell Trent about my little epiphany. I couldn’t wait to tell him. It felt like a weight had been lifted from me, a conviction that warmed my very soul.

"Trent?" I called out when I was through the front door, but there was no answer.

I took the stairs two at a time. "Trent?"

And he stuck his head out from the attic door. I grinned at him, and he smiled at me. "You'll never guess what I did today."

He wiped his hand on his shirt and grinned at my excitement. "What did you do?"

"I said three
very
special words to Dani Peters."

Trent blinked and shook his head. "What?"

"Those three little words that no girl ever wants to hear." I grinned at him.

"That
no
girl ever wants to hear?" he repeated slowly, still unsure.

I nodded. "Dani, I’m gay."

His mouth popped open, and his eyes went wide. I nodded at him. "I told her I’m gay, because I am. Trent, I’m gay," the more I said it, the happier I felt. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I didn’t know why, but I started to cry. "Trent, I think I came out today."

And he hugged me, so fucking hard. He held me, and I laughed, cried and laughed some more. My tears fell and they were happy tears, sad tears and tears of relief.

The part of my life that had been missing, the unidentifiable part of my life that had been missing, wasn't missing anymore.

"All my life Trent, something's been missing," I told him as he held me. "There had been a cloud hanging over me. I never knew what it was. I always thought I was never meant to be truly happy. I’d lived a mediocre life for twenty-seven years, not feeling anything."

Trent pulled me back and wiped my tears. "Don’t cry, baby."

I looked at him, and looked into his eyes, I steeled my resolve to tell him. "The part of my life that was incomplete isn't incomplete anymore. Because of you, Trent."

He shook his head. "I didn't do anything."

I took his face in my hands. "Trent, you…you brought me back to life. For the first time ever, I feel something. You’ve made me
feel
something. The part that’s been missing isn't me being gay, Trent. The part thats’ been missing is you."

Taking a deep breath, I told him, "You…I’m in love with you."

Finally. Relief coursed through me, like I could finally breathe. The words were finally out, and I couldn’t take them back. Completely elated, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him.

But his lips didn’t move.

He shrank back from me and shook his head. "No," he breathed. His face was pale, and he looked horrified. "You don’t love me."

All I could do was stand there, and watch him as he backed away from me and ran down the stairs, away from me. It was all I could do.

Because my heart had stopped beating.

And I think a part of me died, right there in the hall.

I stood there, not breathing, not thinking, not feeling. I wasn’t sure what the Hell just happened.

Twenty fucking minutes ago, I’d come out.
I’d come out
… I realized I was fucking gay, and the only person on the planet who understood, who I wanted to be with, just walked out on me.

I told him I loved him. Fuck.

I told him I loved him, and he left. He didn't just leave… he ran.

My head started to spin, and I stumbled to my room. The walls pulsed, throbbing as if alive, pounding, thumping and aching. Falling to my knees, I rested my head on the side of my bed and tried to breathe.

Oh, fuck it hurt. I held my stomach because it fucking hurt.

I’d just come out. I just told someone I worked with I was gay. Dani. Fucking Hell.

I dragged my body onto the bed, watching the light fade out of my room. I wished for darkness, numbness. I wished for silence inside my head. But my mind didn't stop. Neither did my heart. It ached. And my stomach twisted.

And I knew I only had myself to blame.

Sleep did not come. Not at all. Trent came back inside some hours later. I thought he might have stopped at my door, but he didn't. He trod quietly, sneaking past my room, and I heard the quiet click of the attic door.

I laid there, staring at the wall. Sleep wouldn't come because Trent wasn’t with me…

By 4:30 AM, not knowing what else to do, I got dressed in my running gear and went downstairs.

Bentley woke and stretched. I didn’t wait for him, but he followed. It was dark and misting rain, but I ran anyway. For miles I lost myself in the constant beat of my footfalls, and the cold sting of the falling rain on my face helped with the much needed numbing. Eventually, my mind cleared. If only for a little while.

When I got back to the house, it was daylight, but there was no sign of Trent. And I was glad. I showered quickly, got dressed and ready for work. I didn’t get Bentley breakfast. I didn’t have coffee. I just wanted to leave without seeing him, but I got to the door, and his voice hit me like a wrecking ball.

"Nathan?"

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. I took another step toward the front door. My voice was hoarse and quiet. "I have to go to work."

"Can we talk?"

My mouth opened and then closed, but no words came out. So I shook my head no and walked to my car.

I willed myself not to turn and look at him, like I willed myself not to fall apart. I prayed it would be a busy day at work, where I wouldn't have time to think.

I arrived at the hospital with no recollection of the drive there, and I walked down the now familiar white halls to my office in a daze. I put on my coat, told myself to pull my shit together and headed out to start my day. I intended to find Dani, to say... something...

But I saw Lucas, and something wasn’t right. He was somber, and there were people around him. Some faces I knew, some I didn’t, but none of them were the smiling, happy faces from two days ago.

One of the nurses told me that Graeme Rogers, Lucas's father, was admitted during the night with chest pains.

Alarmed, I asked her, "Where is he now?"

She frowned and answered quietly. "He had a massive heart attack. He didn't make it."

I could feel the blood run down my spine. Fucking hell. Not today. Not today. Please, not today.

I looked back at Lucas and his family. There were two women there, one I presumed to be his mother, the other his sister Simone, the vet, and so was Steve Peters.

"The Chief and Graeme were best friends," the nurse beside me said, in explanation.

Some days, like most of last week, I loved my job. When I saw kids like Toby and Scott suffer some serious injuries, but then see them laughing and smiling with their families later, reminds me why I love what I do.