What the Heart Wants
Page 1
“What the Heart Wants”
M/M Gay Romance
Jerry Cole
© 2019
Jerry Cole
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.
Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.
Edition v1.00 (2019.01.16)
http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com
Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Earleen Gregg, Penny T., A. Pittmoore, Bailey H.S., C Mitchell, Julian White, D. Fair and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.
Interested in FREE Gay Romance Books?
Thank you for downloading my book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. Without readers like you, I wouldn’t be able to do what I love. As my way of giving back, I started the Jerry Cole Reader Club & you are invited to join.
Benefits Include:
10+ Free M/M romance books
Updates on my latest releases
Discounts on new release ebooks at launch (up to 65% off retail!)
It’s also your chance to connect with me. No spam, I promise! Membership is free. No obligation to buy anything & unsubscribe anytime. You will receive your free eBooks immediately after subscribing, sent via email.
Click Here to Download Your Free eBooks!
Download your free books today!
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue
Chapter One
Brent stared up at the apartment building, eyebrows raised appreciatively. He never would have expected he’d be able to rent somewhere this nice, but thankfully a friend of a friend had been renting and he’d been given a sweet deal. His mom had always told him it was about who you knew rather than what you knew. Not that Brent had a lot of people he could use to get a good deal, but the apartment was a bonus for him.
“You ready for this?” Brent’s sister Polly asked, while leaning against the car. “If you’d like some more time alone with the apartment building.”
“Shut up,” Brent said, sticking his tongue out at her. It was childish, but he and Polly had never grown out of the childhood teasing.
As expected, Polly rolled her eyes and pushed herself off the car. “Come on, let’s take your shit upstairs.”
“It’s not shit.” Brent dug the apartment keys out of his pocket. “We can’t do anything with most of this until the truck arrives.”
Though Brent hadn’t rented before, and was moving out of his parents’ home, he had enough to rent a truck. Polly had piled what was left in her car and offered to drive Brent to the apartment. One day, Brent would be able to afford his own car, but sadly, that day hadn’t arrived yet.
There was an expectant face waiting for him in the back of the car, and Brent grinned as he popped the trunk, grabbing for Juliette before she could race away from the car. “Hey, girl.”
Juliette’s tail was already thumping against the car, and she scrambled down, immediately sniffing and searching the road around the car. So many new smells for her to get used to, but Brent had too much to do to let her.
“Let’s get you inside,” he said, grabbing a box from the back of the car to make the journey worthwhile. “I’ll take you for a walk later.”
Whining unhappily, Juliette nevertheless trotted obediently behind him, pausing only long enough to sniff something before racing after him again. Polly followed with a couple of boxes, balancing them precariously while he opened the door to the building.
“This is secure,” Polly said appreciatively.
Brent was grateful; he’d heard horror stories from friends about buildings being a pain in the ass, so he was glad he had one that was safe. “I’m on the first floor.”
Polly breathed out a sigh of relief. “Glad I offered now. Probably wouldn’t have been happy if I had to lug your crap up flights of stairs.”
“Again,” Brent started, eyes scanning the door numbers until he reached number ten, “my stuff isn’t crap. Just because it’s not makeup and clothes.”
“You have clothes here.” Polly leaned the boxes against the wall while Brent battled with the door. Juliette was sniffing around the hall and stopped at number nine, sniffing the door and huffing out, tail wagging furiously.
“Juliette,” Brent admonished, and she whined again, tail between her legs as she came back. “Stop sniffing the neighbors’ doors.”
Finally, the door flung open and hit the wall with a thud. Brent winced, and made a mental note to figure out why the door was sticking and to fix it. The inside of the apartment was open and empty, light spilling into the hall from the living room. Brent walked through, passing a kitchen to the left and a bedroom to the right before stepping into the living room.
“Wow, this is huge,” Polly said, her eyes wide as she kicked the door closed behind her.
The living room was definitely the best part of the apartment, and Brent dumped his box in the middle, releasing Juliette’s leash now she was safely inside the apartment. The huge bay windows at the edge of the apartment opened out onto a small balcony—less a balcony considering it was more like a garden on ground floor—and Brent grinned. “Definitely worth the money I’m paying for it.”
Polly slid her boxes against the wall, and Brent snorted at her pointed look. W
hatever, he was the one that would have to move them. He could leave them in the middle of the room if he wanted to. “Maybe we should find the coffee maker.”
“Think that might be in the truck,” Brent said apologetically.
Sighing, Polly flipped him the bird and headed back for the door.
Brent waited until the door shut behind her before staring out of the window again. It obviously wasn’t a great view from the ground floor, but the area itself seemed pretty quiet. The evenings were probably different, so he’d hold off singing the apartment’s praises completely until he’d lived through one of those.
“Oi!” Polly shouted through the door. “Get a move on!”
Honestly, she was going to get him into trouble with the neighbors before he’d even moved in at this rate.
“Stay,” he said, looking pointedly at Juliette. Predictably, she just stared at him, tongue lolling out innocently. Brent knew better, but left her alone in the apartment anyway, confident she wouldn’t be running anywhere.
There were muttered curses coming from the car, and Brent jogged down the path to help. He was going to have to buy Polly something big and beautiful to make up for this, he already knew, so he should do something to mitigate her suffering.
“You know,” she said, when they were both walking back to his apartment, loaded down with more boxes. “You could have brought Rachel and Jack too.”
“As if I could tear Jack away from her video games,” Brent said with an eyeroll. Their youngest sister was currently addicted to some weird game with horses and cowboys that Brent was trying his best to ignore. He preferred a good old shoot ‘em up or racing game.
Polly shouldered open the door, holding it until they were both through. “Worst thing Mom ever did was buy her that.”
Brent agreed. Their mother was doing everything she could to make them feel better after her divorce from their dad, but Brent was content with nothing. Their dad was a bit of a dick. Brent was glad they were rid of him to be honest, but his mom had to do what she needed to.
“So,” Polly was grinning at him while he opened the apartment door. “Boystown, huh?”
“What?” Brent narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t even start with that.”
“With what?” Polly’s innocent expression was fooling nobody. The fact Brent was the only one around to see it meant nothing.
The boxes Brent was currently juggling both had KITCHEN written on them, so he dumped them on the kitchen counter and then leaned on the doorjamb, watching Polly slide the bedroom boxes into the opposite room. “I’m not looking to pick up.”
Polly looked unimpressed with his denial. “The day you stop going to bars to pick up,” she started, complete with air quotes, “is the day I move to Europe and change my name.”
It was a stupid scenario considering if any member of their family would do something so dumb, it would be Polly, but Brent let that part go. “I’m respectful to all of my one-night stands.”
Ignoring Polly pretending to throw up, Brent poked his head around the door to the living room. Juliette was stretched out in front of the bay windows, sun shining right onto the spot she’d found. “At least someone’s already feeling at home.”
“She’d be at home anywhere.” Polly leaned an arm against his shoulder. “Hopefully there’ll be other dogs in the area she can play with. You can have doggy play dates.”
Brent pinched her side and laughed as she ducked away, slapping him in the arm. “She’ll scare them all away.”
“Aww.” Polly dropped to her knees next to Juliette, scratching her side and head. Eyes closed, Juliette’s tail thumped against the floor, the only indication she was enjoying the attention.
“You keep showing her affection,” Brent said with only minimal irritation. “I’ll bring the rest in.”
When no reply from Polly was forthcoming, Brent sighed, heading back for the door. He slipped out into the hallway, hearing the door next to his shut quickly. There was a snuffle he recognized—obviously a dog in the next apartment over—but didn’t know whether he should try and approach. Was it polite to introduce yourself to your neighbors? Or wait until they addressed you?
Moving out was hard.
Shrugging it off, Brent jogged out to Polly’s car for the last of his belongings, hoping his neighbors wouldn’t stay shy.
Chapter Two
If figuring out neighborly etiquette was hard, that was nothing compared to finding a job.
Well, a job that would pay more than his current situation.
“Nobody wants journalists,” he whined into his phone.
He could practically hear Amanda rolling her eyes on the other end. “Everybody wants journalists, Brent. They just want experienced journalists.”
Though she had a point, Brent wasn’t willing to verbally concede. He graduated a few years ago and was still unemployed. He’d applied to as many news outlets—online, television, and actual printed shit—as he could and was still waiting. Maybe he should start a blog or something. “You think I should start something myself?”
“Well,” Amanda said, dragging out the vowel, “it could only help to get recognized, right? Have a following and places will be more inclined to take you on; especially if they get that following too.”
“True.” Brent clicked through on the search engine, hoping Amanda would think the clicks were research and not just pictures of dogs.
There was a rustling on the other end of the phone. “You still have your business, right?”
Brent huffed a laugh. “’Course. I landed a couple of clients before I even moved out here.”
Having security and a means to pay his rent had been important. Brent didn’t know the people, couldn’t vet them properly at a distance, but if he didn’t like them, he could always drop them and find more. For now, he had a website up and a couple of ads online. Hopefully he’d get word of mouth before too long.
“Of course, you did,” Amanda said warmly. “I gotta go. Happy dog watching, Brent.”
She was still laughing when Brent hung up on her, scowling at the images as if they were responsible for him clicking on them. Whatever. He was leaning up against a couple of boxes, his mattress on the floor. He had yet to re-assemble his furniture after it was dropped off by the movers. It was too much effort, even after three days, but Juliette was currently sitting in the middle of the floor, head cocked, judging him.
“Fine,” he said, sliding his laptop to the mattress and pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s take you out.”
The only items that actually had a home were his kitchen stuff and Juliette’s leash and harness, poop bags, and bowls. He’d have to sort their beds out before tonight, otherwise it would never get done.
You’re a disaster.
Brent’s mom was always telling him as much, but he hadn’t believed her until this moment. Honestly, three days in and he didn’t have any furniture up? He really was a disaster. Wrestling Juliette into her harness was always a chore, with her being excited to go on a walk, and by the time he was done, leash clipped to the harness, he was already exhausted.
“We gotta find an easier way to do this,” he muttered, stuffing some poop bags in the pocket of his jeans. He debated taking a coat, but figured if Chicago was anything like New York, he’d be fine. Swiping his keys from the kitchen counter, he let Juliette tug him out into the hall. As he juggled opening the door, trying to hold Juliette back from rushing out, and shoving his keys into his coat pocket, he didn’t see the person on the other side of the door until Juliette was barreling into them, and Brent let out a curse as he struggled to tug her back. “I’m so sorry!”
The person Juliette had unceremoniously knocked into the opposite wall, looked startled, his eyes wide, but mouth quirking up into a smile. There was another dog, this one smaller and fluffier than Juliette, who was doing its best to sniff Juliette while Juliette was bounding around it like a loon.
“Juliette,” he hissed, finally wrangling the leash enough
to get her to back off. “Again, sorry.”
“No harm done,” the guy said, and Brent got his first proper look. Well, fuck! One of his neighbors was hot! Criminal, actually, to look so good bundled up in a coat, scarf, and beanie jammed over his hair. All Brent could see was his face and striking brown eyes. The mouth was beginning to fall.
“I just moved in,” he said. “Pleased to meet a neighbor.”
“It’s a nice place.” The guys cheeks tinged pink and he looked frustrated with himself, but Brent was feeling a little awkward himself. “Anyway, I should,” the guy gestured to the opposite end of the hallway from the entrance. His dog was sitting at attention, his harness a purple color Brent recognized. He was obviously a service dog, and Brent wondered what he was used for, though he chastised himself for the thought at the same time the guy noticed his awareness. “I’ll see you around.”
Before Brent could say anything else, the guy tugged the dog down the hallway. To keep from being creepy, he tightened his grip on Juliette’s leash and guided her to the building entrance. However rude it might have been, Brent couldn’t help but wonder about the guy’s dog. The purple was usually an indication of mental health issues. Brent had never suffered that problem but one of his best friends had been in the military and had come home with an injury and PTSD for his trouble. Even if he wasn’t going to pry, Brent could appreciate how tough it must be to need a service dog of any kind.
“Should have got his name,” Brent said, reaching down to scratch at Juliette’s neck.
Chapter Three
“So, you’re Brent.”
The guy answering the door looked a few years older than Brent. Brent raised his eyebrows. “I’m Brent. You must be Mr. Granger.”
“Brandon,” Brandon said, making a face. “Mr. Granger is my father.”
Brent’s lips quirked. “So, who is it I’m taking for a walk?”