Silent Is The Heart

CHAPTER 5

Easton

It’s embarrassing how fast I hobble to my appointments with Aaron, but they’re healthier than sitting in my room, contemplating violent deaths that Leonard could meet. If someone had told me four months ago that a handsome speech pathologist would swoop in and make all my undiscovered dreams come true like some sugary tween romance movie, I’d have laughed them out of the state. I never imagined I’d have a purpose beyond surviving and being pissed off.

When I’m not exorcising my mental demons, staring at the walls in my room, or trying not to gawk at Aaron Manicki’s ridiculously perfect face and body… and hands and ass, I draw. I’m starting to give up denying that it’s just to pass the time, especially as my stomach flutters when I hear the sound of Aaron’s laughter coming out of his office.

I live for that laugh now. It’s been the soundtrack of my dreams for the past month and a half since his motivational speech on the patio, longer, if I’m being honest. I didn’t know a specific sound was capable of making me so happy.

Sucking in a breath, I squash down the stupid butterflies in my stomach and adjust my sketchpad to keep it away from my sweaty armpit. I’m going to have some balls and show him the sketch I did of him. One of them, anyway. He doesn’t need to know I have an entire book full like a certified stalker.

I don’t doubt he’ll like the portrait I’m going to unveil. He’s loved everything else I’ve shown him so far, but this is the best thing I’ve ever drawn. Granted, it’s of the best model I’ve ever had. I don’t just want him to like it, though. I want to really impress him.

That invite-only summer program he’s been talking about could be huge for me. If I win the grant they offer at the end of the summer, I could actually go to a freaking legit art school. You don’t have to be a high school graduate. They take seniors if their submission comes with a referral from a patron of the gallery that’s hosting it, which apparently, his mother is.

He assured me that putting in a good word with her to recommend me was no problem, but no one’s ever done anything like that for me, let alone a stranger. I want to thank him somehow. I know he probably doesn’t want any thanks or would prefer I do so with an hour’s worth of spoken words, but I want him to know his faith in me is well worth it. Judging by the quaint, happy stories of his life and childhood, we come from such different worlds. That’s why I want to earn it so badly. I can’t stand the thought of being some pity case to him because I’m his patient, even though I doubt he thinks so. He treats me like I’m just a young guy like him, laughing over the stories of my high school shenanigans, which makes sense since we’re not too far apart in age.

Okay, eight years is almost a decade, but he’s still young. He’s addicted to Nutella shakes and still lives at his parents’ house. I can easily see him being some congenial, preppy kid at school—the kind you don’t want to smother with their letterman jacket. The kind who’s friendly to everyone and doesn’t judge.

We had a kid like that at my school—Devon Willmington. Ben and I used to joke that he’d probably become the mayor because no one had anything bad to say about him. Aaron’s so good he’d probably be kind to assholes, so I want him to know he’s not making a mistake by sticking his neck out for me. I want to be that famous artist he dreamed of, so I can walk back into his office someday to gift him some top-selling portrait rich people are vying for.

And maybe… maybe I kind of want to earn him too.

I read Ben right. There’s no way I could have read Aaron wrong.

He’s into guys. I just… know.

Yeah, you ‘ know ’ with your dick , a cynical voice in my head teases. I tell the voice to shut the fuck up because this has very little to do with my dick. I’d be perfectly happy just to lie next to him and listen to that laughter.

Okay, my dick certainly wouldn’t complain if it was involved in the scenario either, but whatever. I get a vibe from him. And what will it hurt if one little sketch in particular gets him to direct that vibe my way? I’ll be out of here soon—a free man. I won’t be his patient anymore. And one day soon, I’ll be eighteen. Eighteen and legally available.

What’s he laughing about? An ugly sensation clouds my head as I nudge the half-closed door to his office. It feels a lot like jealousy over not being the reason for his amused state. Scoffing, I shake my head at myself. Man, I have it so bad.

“Did you get into the laughing gas?” I rasp out, rounding the doorway, still mystified how little I care about the hoarse sound of my voice as long as it means I get to make Aaron smile from hearing it.

It’s instantly and painfully obvious that this smile is not because of me. My throat closes up, taking in the man holding him in an embrace, kissing his neck, and gripping his ass. Dr. Reider—a visiting plastic surgeon. Dr. Norton swung by my room with him when he gave him a tour three weeks ago.

“Stop it,” Reider purrs teasingly, tugging him closer as Aaron chuckles, pushing at Reider’s chest like he intended to break free. “You’re going to get me fired.”

I want to shout that he’s not funny. That Aaron’s clearly trying to be professional and not make out at the workplace, but I can’t. I can’t shout yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to again. I’ve only been speaking the past month and a half, barely above a damn whisper. It’s only further evidenced by their obliviousness to me. They didn’t freaking hear me when I walked into the room. I thought the way Leonard used to call me names like ‘ sissy ’ and ‘ queer ’ made me feel like nothing, but this might be worse. I’ve never felt more invisible than watching another man touch what I want, and I can’t even yell at him to stop.

Clearing my throat, I shift on my crutches, bumping the door on purpose to make more sound. Reider looks up, brows pinching together like he’s annoyed.

Seriously? What kind of doctor does that?

“Easton!” Aaron exclaims, spinning around. His cheeks are in full bloom as he smooths the front of his shirt and puts some distance between him and the ass-grabber. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there. This is…Dr. Reider.”

Reider adjusts his tie, leaning against Aaron’s desk like he has no shame about being caught, and throws me a nod. “Are you Aaron’s prodigy?” he asks, smirking.

Prodigy? What’s that supposed to mean? And how can Aaron let some guy he’s only known for three weeks grope him in his office?

The guy looked like he was trying to swallow him, body and soul, like a demon. I don’t like his dark eyes or his arrogant-looking face and perfectly trimmed goatee. He looks like a used car salesman with a fancy watch who gets too much sun.

“We have an appointment…don’t we?” I try for indifference but hear the saltiness in my stupid fucking whisper voice.

I hate how it makes me sound like a scared child. Like less than this clearly slightly older-than-Aaron ass-grabber. This is a state-run facility. Why is he wearing fancy-ass shoes like that here for his stupid charity visit to plastic surgery us low-class citizens?

“Y-yeah. Yes . Yes, we did. Um, do . Sorry. Dr. Reider was just…just dropped by to visit me.” Aaron’s smile kills something inside of me. It’s the same as always, but also different. It’s… polite. A little too polite.

“Um…did you want to go out into the courtyard?” he asks, anxiously glancing from me to Reider. “It’s a little chillier today, but the fresh air might be nice.”

It’s a small consolation prize to see that he’s clearly ashamed of his sex office at the moment, or maybe he came to his senses and wants to get away from the ass-grabber. I never want to step foot in here again, and getting Aaron as far away from this major mistake sounds like a solid plan.

“Yeah.” I back up, swiveling around toward the doorway to encourage him to flee with me.

“I’ve got to go,” he tells Reider, voice hushed.

Reider straightens up finally, getting the fucking hint, but then his lids droop as he stares at Aaron’s mouth. His freaking mouth. Hello! I’m standing right here! His hand comes up, brushing a thumb under Aaron’s chin. I might vomit. Leaning in, he dusts a kiss on Aaron’s cheek.

“I should go look up flights,” he says. “Call me later.”

Aaron smiles and nods sheepishly. Reider pauses near me like he thinks a crippled kid should move out of the way for his Highness. I lean back about a centimeter and flash him a bright smile that says my IQ is probably what he expects it should be from someone from a trailer park. I hope he fucking trips on my crutches.

I’ve never felt so feral; keeping my eyes trained on his back to make sure he disappears down the hallway. My blood is pumping overtime. Aaron is into guys—just as I suspected. Part of me wants to celebrate that fact, but another part of me has just seen the equivalent of the evil witch making out with Prince Charming, leaving the princess crying in her tower. There is no way he could truly be into that guy.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve never…done anything like that at work.”

I want to be that hand. I want to slap him for being so stupid, but I also still want to be that hand. “It’s…new,” he adds, sounding helpless and abashed. “He just…showed up.”

The awkward reminder of our roles earlier—that of patient and therapist—dies away as I take in the discomfort in his expression. He owes me no explanation, and yet, I’m receiving one. That has to count for something. His show of remorse is a feather in my cap. Somewhere in there, I matter to him. I matter to him, and he’s into guys. It’s enough to take the edge off my embarrassing cloud of jealousy. I’ve never crushed on anyone before—this is freaking awful. I’m not going to blow it by letting him in on my infatuation, by acting like a bratty teenager.

Swallowing back the bitter panic as it ebbs, I shrug and flash him a smile. “We’re young. But, yeah, get laid on your own time. You owe me five,” I snark, nodding toward the clock.

Chuckling, he pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll give you ten.”

He leaves his hand resting there as I crutch through the doorway. Every inch of my skin goes taut under that touch. I can feel each of his fingers, searing my flesh through my shirt, making me wonder if we’d set the room on fire if we were skin to skin.

Can Reider do that to him?

No way.

He said he needed to go buy plane tickets, which means he’s finally leaving soon. You don’t leave someone you’re serious about. He’s just a passing fling.

I said it myself. Aaron’s young like me. Young, with an active sex drive. I can’t hold that against him.

Just as long as the fucking ass-grabber fucks back off to wherever he came from.

Then Aaron will be all mine again. Aaron, who’s into guys. Aaron, who’s going out of his way to recommend me for an art program. Aaron, who laughs at all my jokes and looks at me like I’m something. I’ve never been something to anyone other than Mom. I can’t possibly feel this stupid over a guy and not have there be some potential for reciprocation.

Glancing over, one look at the smile he gives me tells me I was wrong before, clouded by a haze of worry. That’s my smile —the one he gives just to me. It’s back. Ass-grabber didn’t kill it.

Everything will be fine.

His family lives in Hampton. He’s not going anywhere. And that art program is in town. I’ll be busted free from here soon, and then we’ll just be two guys who live in the same zip code. Two available guys who happened to meet at a rehab facility. We’ll laugh about it someday. I’m sure.

God, I have it so bad. The damnedest thing is that I don’t mind a bit.