Chapter 19

19

ISAAC

T here was a month left of classes, and I was so ready to finally be done with it all. Don't get me wrong, I loved school. I did. It was where I most excelled, where I was most comfortable, and to be honest, I was a little nervous about graduating and leaving this all behind. I'd debated going for my master's, but put that aside for financial reasons. I just wanted a break from it all, too. Some time to find my footing and maybe get a job at a publishing company or something while I worked on my own content.

But I was ready to be done with this semester and finally graduate. And even more than that, I was ready to start my future. A future that looked like it would have a big, beautiful, tattooed man in it who, despite everything I was, loved me.

It had been three days since Brody's confession, and I was still having trouble fully accepting it. I knew there was no magic formula that would whisk away my shame and make me feel like I was worthy of that love. It would just take time and a lot of self work.

After Brody had driven me home the next morning—way too early, but he had to go to work—I'd had a moment of doubt. A long, long moment that stretched into half a day where my negative self-talk had begun to spiral out of control until Jordan had stepped in and shut it down.

"You're afraid of him loving you?" he'd asked.

"I just…" I said. "I guess I wasn't prepared for it. And it freaked me out."

"So you wouldn't have freaked out if you were prepared for it?"

"No. Yes. I don't know."

"Do you love him back?" Jordan asked quietly.

Yes. "Yes," I whispered. "But I'm scared."

"Why? If he treats you well and you love him, what is it, exactly, that's getting in your way, hon?"

"I don't think I'll ever be good enough to keep someone forever," I admitted quietly. "And that's what love is. It's forever. So when he decides he's had enough, I'll just be here, alone, still loving him."

"Oh, Isaac," Jordan said, hugging me tightly. "You are good enough. And if someone else can't see that, then they weren't the person for you. It's as simple as that. But I think Brody is your person, and I couldn't have chosen someone better for you if I'd made him myself."

I'd walked away from that conversation feeling somewhat better, feeling less doubtful, and with a new realization: it wasn't me who was afraid of being loved. Not me, at my very core. Not at all. It was the demons lurking in my darkest depths, because if Brody cast that light on them and kept giving me all that bright, loud love, then they would wither into nothing. Just melt in the intensity of it all. They would have no purpose anymore.

Well, fuck those demons. I'd happily let them die. It was time to own up to my feelings. I'd tell Brody how I really felt, I'd tell him exactly what he meant to me, like I'd been too afraid to do on Saturday.

So I texted him, asking if we were still on for tomorrow. There were two more chapters in his book, after all. And I needed to feel that same closeness we'd shared on Saturday. I needed him inside me again, any way he'd have me.

He texted back almost immediately.

Brody:

Of course we are. Can't wait to see you. 3

My heart practically exploded.

God, I was going to lay him down, maybe even tie him up—would he like that? Was Brody into that kind of thing? Good lord, the thought of him with his wrists tied to the headboard, that magnificent body spread out before me, unable to stop me from doing whatever I wanted to him…

Fuck, this wasn't the place to get hard. I had three minutes left in class, and then I needed to hightail it across campus to the bookstore for my shift. I sat through the last few minutes trying to think of anything other than Brody lying spread eagle on his bed for me. Suffice it to say, I was unsuccessful.

When class was over, I shoved my things into my backpack and raced out the door. It was warmer now, the April air allowing for lighter clothes even though I preferred to keep wearing a hoodie. As I sped across campus, all my thoughts were on Brody and how I would tell him my feelings. Should I write him something? A poem? A little letter? Or just blurt it out and be done with it? It would be easier to write something beforehand, collect my thoughts and then read them to him. I'd probably choke up in the moment if I didn't, not say things right or forget certain things.

When I saw Brody walking toward me, for a brief second, I was pretty sure I'd dreamed him up and that my brain was playing tricks on me. But, no, there he was, backpack slung over one shoulder and a huge smile on his face as his eyes held mine. I slowed and then came to a stop, smiling back. Maybe I should just tell him right now? Why wait, when he was right here looking more beautiful than ever?

Brody picked up the pace and my heart was galloping in my chest. That smile of his was making my knees go weak. Then his eyes slid to the left, widening, and his expression shifted to pure terror. He burst into an all-out sprint right for me, shouting my name as panic and confusion locked my knees. I didn't know what had freaked him out until I was hit from behind by what felt like a wrecking ball. All the air was knocked from my lungs as I was shoved, stumbling forcibly until Brody caught me against his chest, his arms banding around me as he swung me around.

"What—"

"Are you okay, Isaac?" Brody's voice was shaking as he held me—his entire body was shaking, trembling against mine as he ran his hands all over my torso. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No, I?—"

Brody stumbled forward, taking me with him, and then someone was shouting. "You fucking piece of shit, let me at that little?—"

Brody let go of me, and I was finally able to turn and see him shoving—fuck, Gavin? Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck was he doing?

He looked like a feral animal; his face was red, his lips pulled back in a vicious snarl, and his eyes were gleaming with hatred. My heart jumped into my throat when he shoved Brody, and I shouted, "Stop! Fucking stop it!"

Brody kept himself between me and Gavin, and other students were starting to gravitate toward the disturbance. All my focus was on Gavin and Brody, though, and when Gavin surged forward, his arm raised, fist flying toward Brody, I felt so useless and helpless and I'd never been more terrified for someone else in my life. I yelled Brody's name when Gavin's fist connected with Brody's face, and I stepped out from behind the man I loved and shoved Gavin as hard as I could. "Don't fucking touch him, you asshole!" I screamed, pushing against his chest and trying to move him back. But Gavin was built like a brick wall and my efforts to budge him did nothing.

"Isaac, no!" Brody shouted behind me.

Gavin snatched the front of my shirt in his fist and dragged me up onto my toes, shoving his face into mine and snarling, "I lost everything because of you! It's all your fucking?—"

Brody's fist came out of nowhere, plowing into Gavin's face and making him let go of me as he staggered backwards, his hand coming up to his nose. Blood was gushing through his fingers and down his mouth and chin, and then someone else was shouting off to the left. Brody hauled me up against his chest and dragged me away from Gavin, who looked like he wanted to kill me, and my head was spinning in a dizzying merry-go-round of fear and adrenaline. It was only then I noticed all the people standing around us, some with their phones out, and as I was about to scream at them for not doing anything to help, someone pushed their way through the throng of students to stand in front of me and Brody. He was big—bigger than Gavin—and said to Gavin, "The cops are coming so you better back the fuck off."

Relief had me sagging in Brody's arms. He was holding me so tight that it was hard to breathe, but I didn't want to be anywhere but in the safety of his arms. He was still trembling, his chest heaving behind me, his panted breaths puffing against my hair, so I started stroking my hands up and down his forearms, trying to reassure him that everything was okay.

Gavin took a step toward the huge guy who'd come to our aid, fists raised, then stopped when he said, "Don't make me knock you down, Forster."

"Fuck you, Beck," Gavin spat, blood spraying everywhere. He looked around him, as if finally noticing the scene he'd caused, and wariness crept into his eyes.

"Isaac," Brody murmured. "Baby. Are you okay?"

Before I could answer, two campus cops shoved through the crowd and Beck—I guess that was his name—pointed at Gavin. "This guy attacked these two students. Unprovoked."

Someone in the crowd yelled, "I got it on video, officer!"

Ugh. Of course they did.

Gavin was growling like an animal as the cops drew closer to him, but didn't resist when they dragged his arms behind his back and cuffed him.

Then the chaos in front of us started fading around the edges when Brody sat down hard, taking me with him. "Brody?" I said, voice a little panicked because I was worried he'd been seriously hurt. "Brody?"

"Yeah," he grunted. I shifted in his hold, turning so I could look at him, so I could make sure he was okay now that the cops were here. As soon as I was facing him, Brody's hands were cupping my cheeks, his eyes darting over every inch of my face.

"Oh, Brody," I whispered when I saw the bruise forming on his cheek. I brushed my fingers underneath it, and my vision started to blur as tears spilled from my eyes. "I'm sorry," I croaked. "I'm so sorry."

Brody pulled me against him and pressed my face into his neck, cradling the back of my head in his palm. "Shh. It's okay. You're okay, sweetheart. I'm right here."

I threw my arms around his neck and buried my fingers in the hair at his nape, twisting them in the soft strands. Brody held me until the tears stopped, murmuring soft words that vibrated through every fiber of my being until both of us weren't shaking anymore, until we were just holding each other, each heart beating against the other.

"Hey," came a soft voice from behind me. "We'll need to get your statements, if you're able. Do either of you need medical attention?"

I lifted my head from Brody's neck as he said, "No, we're okay." To me, a little quieter, he said, "You good to get up?"

"Yeah," I said.

Brody helped me up and kept an arm around my shoulder as we spoke with one of the officers. I had my own arm wrapped around his waist, my fingers gripping his shirt. Now that the shock of what happened had dissipated a bit, I was exhausted. I couldn't get my mind around someone wanting to hurt another person for no reason.

Wait, no, I guess Gavin had his reasons. They just weren't good or logical. They made sense only in his fucked up mind, and Christ…what would he have done to me if Brody hadn't been there to stop him?

"Isaac?"

"Hmm?" I tilted my head up to find Brody staring down at me, a tenderness in his gaze that was slicing my heart to ribbons.

Brody laid his palm against my cheek and brushed his thumb beneath my eye. The warmth of him had me closing my eyes, but I opened them again when he told me, "The officer said they'll be in touch if anything else comes up. You look tired. Let me take you home."

I wrapped my fingers around the hand that was pressed against my face. "Yeah. Brody…"

He stepped closer, palming my lower back. "Yeah?"

"I…" I fucking love you and want to spend the rest of my life loving you, if you'll let me. "I—um…"

Before I could say anything else, Brody grunted and fell to his knees, sending pins and needles of panic shooting down my spine as his eyes rolled back. "Wh?—"

He started falling sideways, and my only thought in that panicked moment was to protect his head because there was no way I could hold the entire weight of him.

"Brody!" I cried, his name breaking in the middle as I went down with him, catching his head against my chest. "No, no, no, help! Someone help!" I slapped at his cheeks and rasped, "Wake up, wake up!" What happened? Was it his heart? "Hey, baby, wake up, please wake up," I cried, every inch of me buzzing with fear. "Someone call an ambulance!"

There was a commotion around me, but the entirety of my focus was on Brody.

"Brody," I whispered, gently grabbing his head, lifting it to rest in my lap, and stroking his hair back. Why was this happening? It had to be his heart. It had to be. He'd only fainted and would be fine. He would be fine.

"Brody, wake up. Wake up, baby," I said, over and over and over again, brushing his hair and trying to see through my tears. There were other people kneeling beside him now, touching him, talking to each other, asking what happened, trying to talk to me, but all I could do was hold Brody's head in my lap and beg him to wake up. My entire world was right here, on the ground, and he wouldn't wake up. He had to. He had to.

The sound of sirens had people backing away, murmuring amongst themselves, and then the paramedics were here, grabbing Brody and placing him on a stretcher. "He has a heart condition," I told them. "He has a mitral valve complication." One of the paramedics was speaking with someone next to me, an older man—maybe a teacher, and the one strapping him in glanced at me and said, "Okay." To his partner he said, "Get him on oxygen when he's in there."

"What happened here?" The other paramedic asked me.

When I just shook my head, someone else—the older man that had been speaking with the other paramedic—said, "Another student attacked him. I think this guy was just trying to defend him," he said, nodding his head toward me. "Maybe he got knocked in the head, I don't know."

"All right. Let's load him up," the paramedic said. "You coming?" he asked me. "You need attention?"

"No," I told him. I grabbed onto Brody's limp hand while they wheeled him to the ambulance and they let me. I kept holding his hand once we were inside, kept begging him to wake up as they looked him over. They strapped an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and the sight of him like that made me break down. I sobbed uncontrollably, letting my head fall into the crook of his neck until one of the paramedics gently pulled me off him.

By the time we got to the hospital, I was beyond hysterical because, despite me pleading with them, they separated us. They made me stay in the waiting area while Brody went god knew where. The only thing I felt was a despair so vast it was slowly swallowing me whole, and I cried into my arms until there was nothing left inside me.

I didn't care about anything except seeing Brody. I wanted to be there when he opened his eyes. I needed to be there. I needed him to wake up.

An hour later, the last person I expected to see walked into the waiting area. I was so elated to see Brody's sister that I flew out of the chair and wrapped my arms around her.

"Oh my god, no," she said, trying to shove me off her.

"Where is he? What's going on? Did he wake up?" I pulled back enough to look her in the eyes—eyes that were exactly like her brother's. Tears welled anew, and Bri looked so uncomfortable that a small laugh bubbled out of me.

"He's in surgery," she said softly, and those tears spilled down my cheeks. Brody wasn't here to wipe them away, which only made me cry harder.

"What?!" I practically shouted. "Oh my god…why? Why ? What happened?"

"He was going into heart failure," she said. "They said that he'd been getting worse and worse over time, and the stress that the assault placed on his heart was the last straw. Isaac, what the fuck happened? There's a police officer here who said someone pushed you and then Brody got in a fight with him. Who would do that?"

Dizziness overwhelmed me, and I sat down hard in the chair. "What?" I whispered. Brody was in surgery? His heart was failing? I felt like I was gonna throw up. Or have a heart attack. Or both.

Bri sat down beside me and, after a brief hesitation, took my hand in hers. "The police arrested someone, but they wouldn't tell me who. Do you know who would do this?"

"It was Gavin. Gavin Forster," I gritted out, a deep pit of hatred opening inside me. I wanted to hurt him, in that moment. My blood began to boil in my veins, bubbling and frothing with a heat that felt like it would sear right through me.

"Why—" Bri started, but my phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out, saw Jordan was calling, and swiped to answer. I was thankful he started speaking right away, because I had no idea what to even say.

"Isaac! Oh my fucking god, are you okay? I'm on my way to the hospital right now, Cam and Josh are coming too, and Jamie said he would be there right after his class ended. Isaac, everyone is fucking talking about this. What did Gavin do to you? What happened ?"

He was speaking so fast, his voice so high, I was having a hard time following every word. "He just came at me out of nowhere. For no reason. What—how do you know about this?"

"It's all over social media!" he yelled. "There are videos everywhere and—oh my god, is Brody okay?"

I could feel my face crumpling. "No," I said on a wet sob. "He's not okay! He's in surgery because his heart was failing!"

Jordan took the phone away from his mouth and said something to someone else, then to me said, "Okay, honey, we're almost there. Just hang on. It'll be okay. He's in good hands, okay?"

I wheezed out, "Okay," told Jordan we were in the waiting area and hung up. Bri was still holding my hand, and I was beyond grateful to have her with me in this moment.

"My uncle will be here in a few minutes. They called him since he's Brody's emergency contact, so he shut the shop down for the day. Isaac…" I'd never heard Bri be so serious, which only made this whole situation worse because it was fucking dire if she wasn't joking around or being weird. Just like that first time he'd been in the hospital. "Why would this guy do this?"

I stared at our hands and said, "Because he's a piece of shit homophobe who used to live with Brody. He was talking shit about Brody right to my face so I went off on him, and then Jamie came and they got in a huge fight and the entire house kicked him out during the snowstorm. I guess he was holding a grudge." Guilt that my big mouth had led to this moment began to surge. Fuck, this was all my fault, wasn't it?

Bri squeezed my hand. "Well, I hope he's got a good lawyer because we'll be suing the shit out of that cunt nugget. And we know the best lawyer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Why don't we all wait together, after your friends get here? I know Brody will be happy to see you when he's…when he's…" Her voice hitched, she let out a quiet sob, and when I turned and wrapped my arms around her, she let me.

"He'll be okay," I said into her hair. "He will."

Because there was no other reality I would let myself live in.

The waiting was interminable, and the updates were few and far between. At one point, I found myself with a vengeful thirst and went looking for a vending machine. When I finally found one in some far-off hallway where the lights kept flickering, making me feel like I was in my very own horror movie, I got a crumpled dollar bill from my pocket and tried to flatten it against the edge of the machine.

Standing at the vending machine took me right back to the first day I met Brody. When I knew he'd been having a horrible day without even knowing him at all. When he'd been so angry, and yet so gentle with me. When I'd first looked into those eyes and known I was a goner. He'd turned my reality on its head and dragged me from the pit—kicking and screaming, but I went with him all the same. He'd fucking saved me. Changed me. For the better. And now…now he was fighting for his fucking life and here I was, getting a goddamn soda.

I slid the bill into the slot, pressed the numbers for a Dr. Pepper, and waited. The coils holding the drink spun, spiraling back, and right when it was about to fall down the chute, they stopped. The drink was tilted forward, the cap hitting the scratched glass, but the coils didn't move again.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I said. I pounded a fist into the glass, but the drink didn't budge. I hit it again and again, but it stayed stuck. "Fuck!" I said, slamming my foot into the machine.

And then I started laughing at the absurdity of it all, long, manic bouts of laughter that quickly turned into gut-wrenching sobs.

"Life, you've got a shitty sense of humor," I blubbered. I gave the machine one last pound, and to my surprise, the drink slipped free and clattered to the bottom.

"Huh," I said, wiping my eyes and slipping my hand through the slot to grab it. That was a good omen, right?

When I got back to our group—Brody's uncle, Bri, Jordan, Cam, Josh, and Jamie—it was past nine o'clock and there hadn't been an update for two hours.

"Did anybody come while I was gone?" I asked Bri. She shook her head no.

Brody's uncle—Boone—had been sitting with his head down for most of the time. He was a huge guy, maybe six and a half feet tall and made of pure muscle, and his eyes were the same striking color as Brody's. We'd made quick introductions, but I think both of us knew that this wasn't the time or place for an actual get-to-know-you session, and while I did want to know the man who'd mostly raised Brody, I was also deeply ashamed that it was because of me Brody was here in the first place.

I just sat staring at the wall, not processing anything that was happening around me, and willed time to move faster. When midnight rolled around, a doctor—not a nurse—approached us. I sat up straight, my heart pounding and an unwanted sense of foreboding dragging down my spine.

"Good news," he started, and I let out a harsh breath. "Mr. Correlli is out of surgery and is in a recovery room. The surgery went well, but he's still out at the moment. He should be coming around in the next hour or so, and if you'd like to go back and see him, despite visiting hours having ended a while ago, we can let family members back. Everyone else, we ask that you wait out here until visiting hours start again at seven tomorrow—or, no, this morning now," he corrected with a glance at his watch. "If you have any questions for me, I'm happy to answer them."

My heart sank, and I wanted to scream. But then Bri grabbed my arm and yanked me up with her and her uncle, raising her eyebrow at me.

The doctor said, "Uh?—"

Bri trampled over whatever he'd been about to say and firmly insisted, "This is his husband." I slid my eyes to Bri, trying not to react because the doctor was looking intently from her to me and back again. His eyes slid down to my ringless hand.

"Riiight," he said slowly. But he didn't argue with her, and I was so thankful for her brashness that I wanted to kiss her.

On the cheek. To be clear.

Brody's uncle said nothing, and I turned to Jordan and the rest of them. "Why don't you guys go home and get some rest? Come back in the morning, if you want?" I was amazed that they'd all showed up in the first place. Jordan I expected, but everyone else? It made me feel like they actually cared, when no one had for so long. It was a really good feeling. "Thank you, guys. Seriously, thank you for being with me tonight. It means a lot."

I hugged Jordan, promised to text him and keep him updated, and then they left. I followed after Bri, her uncle, and the dubious doctor, overwhelmed with relief that the surgery had gone smoothly, that Brody was okay, that he was going to wake up. Nobody was walking fast enough, and I had to curb the urge to just start running, even though I had no clue where Brody even was.

Finally, after taking so many turns I'd never find my way back and two separate elevator rides filled with silence, the doctor stopped at a closed door in a long hallway.

"Here we are," he said. "I'll be back in a couple hours to check on Mr. Correlli. In the meantime, the nurse's station is right around the corner if you need anything." With that, he headed off down the hallway.

I followed Bri and her uncle inside the room, twisting my hands nervously in the hem of my shirt. At the first sight of Brody lying on his back, eyes closed, oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth, a fresh wave of tears surged out of me. Silent tears unaccompanied by the violent sobs that had torn through me earlier. Rivers of quiet pain that flowed down my cheeks and dripped onto the floor.

Bri and her uncle moved closer to Brody until they were standing at his right side, staring down at him. And then Bri stepped into her uncle's side, and he wrapped one massive arm around her as she cried quietly in his embrace. I felt so out of place, like I shouldn't even be here, like I should give them a moment of privacy, but Brody was right there and I needed—desperately—to be by his side. To hold his hand. To feel the proof that his heart was still beating.

I walked around the end of the bed and dragged a plastic chair to the other side of Brody, my eyes riveted to his chest. It was rising and falling in slow, steady movements, and the relief of that had me sitting down hard. I clasped his hand in mine, careful not to jostle the finger monitor, not to put pressure on the bruises and cuts ridging along his knuckles, and scooted a little closer. And then closer. Close enough so I could rest my head against his thigh, so I could hold his hand with both of mine and gently stroke his skin. So I could look up at him and know the exact moment he opened his eyes. So I could feel him, feel that he was real, feel that he was still here, with me, feel and see and smell and touch.

The ebb and flow of my emotions kept threatening to drag me out and hold me under. A relentless shifting from pure joy that he was alive, that he would be okay, to a god-awful dread mingled with guilt that this was all my fault, that those ethereal gray eyes would be filled with nothing but hate for me once he opened them.

I would spend the rest of my life making this up to him, if he would let me.

I let the rhythmic motion of his chest soothe me as he took deep, even breaths. I heard other chairs scraping, but didn't turn my head. Heard the hushed conversation between Bri and her uncle. Heard the constant beeping of Brody's heart monitor.

My eyes fluttered closed, and then popped back open when I realized I couldn't see him anymore. But a profound exhaustion was sweeping through me, grabbing at me and trying to yank me away. I fought it as hard as I could. As long as I could. And when my eyelids became too heavy, when I was unable to peel them open again, I let sleep drag me under.