by Aiden Bates
Allen just smiled. When Carter dropped him off, he shucked his clothes into a corner and crawled into bed. He'd get dressed before he had to go get Alaina, but for now all he wanted was oblivion.
***
Brantley knew when Simmons was coming for him. He recognized the guard's footfalls on the concrete floor with its bright yellow line. He hadn't developed some kind of super power, or learned some kind of superior listening skill during his time in jail. There were, quite simply, no other sounds for him to hear.
"Dr. Powell!" Simmons' voice had a lot more pep and vigor to it than it normally would. "Up and at 'em. Come on, it's your lucky day!"
Brantley understood two things from his guard's language. One— t was still morning. Two—something significant had happened. Simmons had barely addressed him by name at all up until now.
He sat up. "Is my lawyer here again?" He stood up and approached the door to his cell. When he shoved his hands through the appropriate slot in the door, Simmons cuffed him.
"Better. I mean yeah, he's here. But it's better than that. Don't get too attached to these pretty bracelets, buddy." Simmons grinned.
He didn't say anything else. He probably couldn't. Brantley wasn't well versed in proper jailhouse etiquette, but he didn't think the guards were allowed to give out details. He wasn't brought to the visitation room, though. Instead, he was brought back to booking. There, he was fingerprinted again. He was photographed again, and again, and yet again. He was brought to another room, where the handcuffs were taken off of him.
A pile of his clothes, separate from the bloody clothes in which he'd been arrested, waited on a shelf. They were casual clothes, but Brantley didn't care. They were his. They fit. They weren't orange.
He dressed under Simmons' watchful but respectful eye and presented himself yet again. Now he was brought into another room, where he found Gupta waiting for him with a little smile on his face. "I'm impressed," Gupta told him. Maybe it was Simmons he was speaking to, Brantley couldn't quite tell. "Only three hours."
"Well, you're not done yet." Simmons gave him a rueful grin. "We'd usually make him fill out the rest of this paperwork by himself, but he's actually got a lawyer. And he's probably way too smart to sign anything without you looking at it first."
Brantley snorted. "You think?"
It took him and Gupta, together, an hour to go through the rest of the paperwork. Once he was done, Brantley was officially a free man. With every minute that ticked by, anticipation grew. Sure, he could be on his way to court, but they wouldn't have put him in casual clothes for court.
"Congratulations, Dr. Powell. You're officially a free man. Come on. I'm here to take you home." Gupta smiled at him, a genuine smile this time.
Simmons handed Brantley a plastic bag with Brantley's personal effects. "Your phone battery's dead," he said. "They usually are. Check through and make sure the rest of your things are accounted for, though."
Brantley did. "Everything I had on me at the time is here," he said. "I wasn't carrying much around the office, I'm afraid."
"Excellent." Gupta aimed himself toward the door. "Shall we?"
Brantley wasn't quite ready to leave yet. He held out his hand to Simmons. "I want to say thank you. I was prepared to hate you, and everything about this place. I expected an adversarial relationship, and you definitely did think I was guilty. But you still treated me like a human being. I appreciate that. I hope we meet again, under better circumstances."
Simmons' smile was warm and genuine. "Thank you, Doc. Hopefully, it's not on my business or yours."
Now Brantley was ready to go. He followed Gupta out to the parking lot, where they got into Gupta's BMW with the Ohio plates. Gupta made a face. "I'm bringing you home," he said. "I'm sure there are a lot of things you want and need, but a shower should be your first priority."
Brantley grimaced. He hadn't noticed if he smelled or not. "Sorry. They didn't let me shower while I was in there."
"No, I don't suppose they did." He rolled down the windows.
Brantley smiled as he looked out at the cityscape around him. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see this again."
"I wasn't either. I was hopeful. The law was on your side, but the way those agents were behaving—well, that had nothing to do with law, at all." Gupta scowled. "The judge was not a happy man. But we can talk about that when you've had a chance to wash, and change your clothes."
Brantley looked down at the outfit Gupta had brought. "Where did you even find these things, anyway? I'm not even sure they're mine."
"They're not." Gupta glanced at him and swerved to avoid a car doing twenty in the left lane. "They're Allen's. He knew you were getting out, so he sent them along. He didn't have a key to your place, so he sent what he could."
Brantley bowed his head. "I should have given him a key. If nothing else, it would have made our relationship feel more equal."
"Maybe. I don't think Allen ever thought about it that way." Gupta sighed. "We don't need to talk about that right now. We need to talk about soap."
Brantley laughed. "How do you work with people who've been in lockup and have such a strong reaction to people who smell bad? Everyone smells bad when they come out of lockup."
They got to Brantley's house not long after that. For all Brantley's laughing, he raced into the house. He couldn't wait to wash the grime of the Justice Center off of his flesh. He couldn't wash the whole experience away, not at all, but he could at least erase the outward signs.
"I don't want to be rude, but I need to decontaminate." He turned to his savior. "Do you mind?"
Gupta sat down on Brantley's couch and pulled out his briefcase. "Not at all. We have some things to discuss, but they can wait until you've gotten cleaned up. Take your time. Be thorough," he added, wrinkling his nose."
Brantley didn't need to be told twice. He washed every inch of his body, and then he went over it again with shower gel because he could. Maybe he was wasting water. He tried to be more conscientious than that. He could justify it by the fact that he hadn't used any water over the past few days, at all.
When he was done, he dried himself off on the big, fluffy bath towels that were one of his few indulgences. Then he got dressed. He slipped into something more fitted, something that felt like his. He didn't care how it looked. He wasn't going anywhere. He didn't care to impress anyone. When Gupta left, Brantley was going to crawl into bed and cry. Maybe he'd take a bubble bath and cry some more, but there was definitely going to be some crying involved.
He didn't need to dress up for that.
When he went downstairs, though, Gupta just frowned at him. "Oh good Lord, no. Go put on something else. That shirt has three holes in it. You look like you wore the rag you wear to polish the furniture." He waved a hand.
Brantley rolled his eyes. "Come on, man. I just got out of jail. No one's going to see me. I just want to wear my own clothes."
"Would you please just trust me and listen to me for a minute?" Gupta shook his head. "Go. Put on a nicer shirt. A pullover is fine, but make it one that looks good on you. There's a good oncologist."
Brantley sighed and returned up the stairs to find something a little less ragged.
He came downstairs and turned around for Gupta's view. "Is this more appropriate?"
"Much. Now. Please, have a seat. We should talk."
"We should talk about your fees." Brantley sat down on the couch and marveled at the softness of the upholstery. He'd been a genius when he bought it. Had it only been a few days since he'd been arrested? It felt like years.
Gupta waved a hand. "Don't worry about those. Between Silver Oak and Jason Delancey, those are covered. No. We need to talk about what happened, and how you got out of it."
Brantley sat up a little straighter. "I thought I got out of it because the law was on my side."
"You did. To a certain extent. But you only got a chance for the law to save you because of one man."
Brantley's chest tightened. "Allen."
>
Gupta grinned. "They do tell me you're a genius. There was an informal hearing today at the judge's chambers. Allen argued so effectively I barely had to open my mouth. He shut down the agents' arguments, and he proved your relationship had been real so effectively that I believed it."
Brantley snorted. "Right."
"No. He did. I'm not sure…" Gupta took a deep breath and tried again. "I know just how deep his love runs, Brantley. He didn't want me to tell you he had anything to do with your release."
Brantley drew back. "That's not love."
"It is, for someone like Allen. He didn't want to create a sense of obligation." Gupta cleared his throat and tugged at his collar. "That was it. He didn't want you to feel you had to be with him because he'd helped you out. If you didn't want to be with him for him, he was okay with that. But he didn't want to be some kind of… I don't know. He didn't want to tie you down, I suppose."
Brantley covered his mouth with both hands. "I can't even wrap my head around that. He thinks I don't want him?"
"I can hardly tell what he thinks. He doesn't confide in me. He simply told me he doesn't want you to know about his involvement, for the reasons I stated." Gupta tugged at his collar again, even though it was loose. "There's one more item. He didn't specifically ask me not to share it, but he did say the time was never right and he just never had the chance."
"What is it?" Brantley rubbed at his face. "Might as well get it all out there. Since apparently we're two men who need a star attorney to communicate for us."
"Don't knock it. It keeps food on my table." Gupta huffed out a little laugh. "Listen. Allen is. He's um. Allen is expecting."
"He's expecting a package? Another degree? A bouquet of flowers? Rum?"
Gupta stood up and threw his arms up into the air. "I thought you were a genius! And don't go giving him rum until after the end of April, at least."
Brantley scratched his head. "Is he training for a marathon?"
"The marathon of parenthood." Gupta muttered under his breath in Hindi.
Brantley choked on his own tongue. Gupta had to pound on his back. "I'm sorry, he's what now?"
Gupta left his hand where it was. "He's pregnant."
"And he decided not to tell me?" Brantley jumped up from his nice, soft couch. "But he says he loves me?" His eyes burned.
"He tried, apparently. Something about interrupting a phone call?" Gupta shrugged, and Brantley fell back onto the couch. Of course. It made sense now.
He'd been such a fool.
"I need to go over there. I need to talk to him. I need to—I need to. Oh my God." Brantley grabbed the sides of his face. "Is he okay? Is the baby okay? Is he angry? Does he want to see me? Will he let me talk to him? I want—"
Gupta lifted his eyebrows. "I hardly know, Brantley. But why do you think I asked you to put on a nicer shirt?"
Brantley threw his arms around his lawyer. "Thank you."
"Go. Talk things out. If you can't make it work, then at least you'll have tried. But don't let it go."
Brantley ran out to his car, ignoring his beautiful, soft, pristine couch and his fridge full of organic food. He had to trust that Gupta would lock up after him.
He'd promised himself he would talk to Allen, but he hadn't made a plan for exactly how that would go. He'd hoped he could make it go well, but he'd half suspected he would chicken out. He couldn't afford to chicken out now.
Who was he kidding? Brantley shouldn't have chickened out then. The presence of the baby shouldn't have had any effect on his behavior. Brantley loved Allen. He would have loved Allen with or without the baby. Was he such a pathetic milksop that he only loved Allen now that he knew Allen was carrying his child?
He almost turned the car around.
No. Hell, no. He hit the gas. The baby gave him added impetus. The baby brought home to Brantley how little he'd understood Allen's needs. He'd focused on his own, admittedly significant, problems and left his lover to flounder. Brantley had been too timid to show himself, thanks to decades of learned behavior.
Allen needed to be loved for himself, not because it was "right." Not because he'd done something good for someone, or because he was someone's parent. He needed to be loved for himself. Brantley had implied it, but he'd never shown it. That would have to change now.
He stopped off at the Wegmans to pick up some flowers, and then he kept going to the townhouse he'd come to love so much. He still had a key. He didn't need to knock, but the presence of Carter Idoni's Volvo in the driveway told him it wouldn't be a good idea.
He'd heard rumors about Idoni. Maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to surprise the guy.
He rang the doorbell. Sadie barked, once. She was kind of useless in that way. Brantley loved her, too. He couldn't wait to see her again.
Idoni opened the door. Just as he'd expected, Idoni stood there. He smiled when he saw Brantley. "Good to see you on the outside, Dr. Powell."
Brantley made himself smile at Idoni. "It's good to breathe free air. Is Allen at home?"
Sadie appeared at the door. She wagged her tail when she saw Brantley.
"He's sleeping right now. It's been a long few days for him." Idoni's face softened. "He was worried for you." He opened the door. "Come on in."
"I heard." Brantley bowed his head for a moment, and the two doctors stood there awkwardly.
Then Carter sighed and took the flowers from Brantley. "Look, you make sure you take good care of him, okay? No rough stuff, make sure he's fed and watered, and you make sure he's good and happy before he comes to my place to pick up Alaina tomorrow morning." He went to the kitchen to find something that would serve as a vase. "Well? Go on. Time's wasting."
Brantley ran up the stairs. He wasn't going to waste this chance.
Chapter Twenty
Allen woke up when his door opened. "Carter? What's wrong?" He rubbed at his eyes. "Geez, why'd you let me sleep so late? I need to go pick up Alaina."
The bed beside him dipped, and Allen's eyes focused. The person sitting in the bed beside him wasn't Carter.
"Brantley?" He pulled the blanket farther up, almost to his nipples, and blushed. "Sorry. I, ah, I wasn't expecting anyone."
Brantley's dark eyes twinkled in the half light. "I don't know. I think you were expecting Carter. Want me to go call him back? I can do that."
Allen looked away. "No." He grabbed a pillow and covered his lap with it. Hopefully, that would hide any embarrassing erections. God, it had only been a few weeks and still Brantley looked beautiful.
Brantley caught Allen's chin and guided it back, so Allen had to look at him. It wasn't exactly a hardship. "I wanted to say thank you, Allen."
Allen inched back and leaned against the headboard. "Gupta mentioned I was there?"
Brantley sat back. His eyes lingered on Allen like he might disappear if Brantley looked away. "He'd already told me you were working for my release. So I was already thinking about it. Allen, listen. I was all alone in that jail cell. They had me on this wing, and I was all alone. I couldn't hear anyone else, all I could do was sit there and think about things."
Allen looked down at the duvet. "Okay."
Brantley took Allen's hand. "And I was thinking about how much I missed you. And about how neither of us had said we wanted it to end. It had just kind of ended, because we thought the other one wanted it to." He squeezed Allen's hand.
Allen's pulse sped up. He wasn't going to let himself hope. He couldn't.
"Okay, sure," he said. "That's all true. But we did still let it happen."
Brantley nodded, and then he leaned in and touched his lips to Allen's. "You know what? We did. And you know what else? I think we were both afraid. I'm not going to hold it against you, being afraid. And in return, if you can, I'd like to ask you not to hold it against me." He looked up into Allen's eyes. "We've suffered, while we've been apart. I don't think we expected to fall in love. But we did."
Allen blinked away the tears that clouded his vision. "But you can
't love me," he whispered. "You can do so much better."
"Never." Brantley ran a hand over Allen's bare shoulder, and it made Allen shiver. Allen knew he'd be responsive, but that had just been abstract. Now he was right here, in the middle of things and experiencing it.
Brantley kicked off his shoes and climbed more fully into the bed. "I could never 'do better' than you. I wasn't celibate before you, Allen. But none of them made me want to do better. None of them made me want to be better."
Allen's mind was swimming. Heat and desire warred with confusion and old hurts. "What about Dwayne?"
