that shit coming, I’d do it again. Because…”
Brian’s voice cracked a little, “because I know what you were
thinking of doing, those months between. Between you being
attacked and me talking you out of the crazy tree. I’d do anything to
make sure that didn’t happen—even get beat to the ground, you
hear?”
Talker nodded and wiped some more helpless tears. God, he
was tired of being weak, he was. But Brian was so easy to lean on,
even hurt, and the world just turned a better color when he leaned
his head on Brian’s good shoulder. His hair was back in a queue
today. He hadn’t spiked it in weeks, and it was, in fact, growing out
on the sides a little. It was still patchy over his tattoo, but with the
tatt, you couldn’t see how much was scalp and how much was really
hair. Talker thought maybe it was time for a new look, because this
one made it easier to lean his head on Brian’s shoulder, and that
had to be a good thing.
Talker’s Redemption | Amy Lane
85
“I can’t believe you did that,” was what he said. “Brian, you’re
so….” He looked at their still-twined hands, still getting to know New
Rat. “You’re so gentle. I can’t believe you hit someone.”
Brian shook his head, and Tate pulled his hand away enough
to rub the scars on the back of Brian’s knuckles. He’d done this
many times before, he realized, but he’d never known what put them
there.
“I don’t remember much,” Brian said softly. “I gave Trev a
chance to defend himself, and the next thing I know, Jed was pulling
me off of him.”
“Fucker,” Tate said, sincere venom in his voice. “It’s more than
he deserved.”
“I threw up afterward,” Brian told him, as though that meant
something. Talker looked up at him and found himself smiling. He
remembered throwing up on Henries, and thought that maybe Brian
was right. Maybe it did mean something.
He remembered that first day they’d met, on the bus, and the
day Brian had first seen his scars. The all-American poster child and
Tate-the-tattooed-twitch—it seemed unlikely, but Brian hadn’t seen
that. He’d seen that they were more alike than different.
Maybe they were.
“So what are we going to name him?” Tate asked after a
minute.
Brian scratched the rat under the chin and tutted to him some
more before answering. “How ’bout we name him after you this
time?”
“You’re going to name the rat Talker?”
“Naw.” Talker looked up to see Brian’s fierce grin, unblemished
and untainted by the last month. “We’re gonna name him Harry. Big
Harry Nads.”
Talker’s Redemption | Amy Lane
86
Talker snickered. “After me?”
“Yeah, Talker. Man, after what you did to keep my ass out of
jail, I don’t know who else we’d name Big Harry Nads. You think?”
Talker blushed and looked down at the rat again. “Well, it is a
sweet ass,” he murmured, and heard Brian’s chuckle, “but I’m not
that brave.” Brian’s kiss on the fuzz growing in on the top of his head
felt like a benediction.
“You survived all that, Talker. You tore yourself open when you
were already falling apart, and you did it for me. You’re fucking
fearless.”
“God, I love you.”
“I love you too. So—Big Harry Nads?”
Tate smiled shyly into the world created by Brian’s chest and
his faith and the love that seemed to have survived in the core of
them, and nodded. “Yeah. Big Harry Nads the rat. He’ll fit right in.”
The moment was quiet, and the music started up in Talker’s
head again. He started singing, “‘Dance, then, wherever you may
be….’” And Brian started humming it too.
Don’t Miss
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
About the Author
AMY LANE teaches high school English, mothers four children, and writes the
occasional book. When she’s not begging students to sit-the-hell-down or taxiing
kids to soccer/dance/karate—oh my! she can be found catching emergency naps,
grocery
Brian’s voice cracked a little, “because I know what you were
thinking of doing, those months between. Between you being
attacked and me talking you out of the crazy tree. I’d do anything to
make sure that didn’t happen—even get beat to the ground, you
hear?”
Talker nodded and wiped some more helpless tears. God, he
was tired of being weak, he was. But Brian was so easy to lean on,
even hurt, and the world just turned a better color when he leaned
his head on Brian’s good shoulder. His hair was back in a queue
today. He hadn’t spiked it in weeks, and it was, in fact, growing out
on the sides a little. It was still patchy over his tattoo, but with the
tatt, you couldn’t see how much was scalp and how much was really
hair. Talker thought maybe it was time for a new look, because this
one made it easier to lean his head on Brian’s shoulder, and that
had to be a good thing.
Talker’s Redemption | Amy Lane
85
“I can’t believe you did that,” was what he said. “Brian, you’re
so….” He looked at their still-twined hands, still getting to know New
Rat. “You’re so gentle. I can’t believe you hit someone.”
Brian shook his head, and Tate pulled his hand away enough
to rub the scars on the back of Brian’s knuckles. He’d done this
many times before, he realized, but he’d never known what put them
there.
“I don’t remember much,” Brian said softly. “I gave Trev a
chance to defend himself, and the next thing I know, Jed was pulling
me off of him.”
“Fucker,” Tate said, sincere venom in his voice. “It’s more than
he deserved.”
“I threw up afterward,” Brian told him, as though that meant
something. Talker looked up at him and found himself smiling. He
remembered throwing up on Henries, and thought that maybe Brian
was right. Maybe it did mean something.
He remembered that first day they’d met, on the bus, and the
day Brian had first seen his scars. The all-American poster child and
Tate-the-tattooed-twitch—it seemed unlikely, but Brian hadn’t seen
that. He’d seen that they were more alike than different.
Maybe they were.
“So what are we going to name him?” Tate asked after a
minute.
Brian scratched the rat under the chin and tutted to him some
more before answering. “How ’bout we name him after you this
time?”
“You’re going to name the rat Talker?”
“Naw.” Talker looked up to see Brian’s fierce grin, unblemished
and untainted by the last month. “We’re gonna name him Harry. Big
Harry Nads.”
Talker’s Redemption | Amy Lane
86
Talker snickered. “After me?”
“Yeah, Talker. Man, after what you did to keep my ass out of
jail, I don’t know who else we’d name Big Harry Nads. You think?”
Talker blushed and looked down at the rat again. “Well, it is a
sweet ass,” he murmured, and heard Brian’s chuckle, “but I’m not
that brave.” Brian’s kiss on the fuzz growing in on the top of his head
felt like a benediction.
“You survived all that, Talker. You tore yourself open when you
were already falling apart, and you did it for me. You’re fucking
fearless.”
“God, I love you.”
“I love you too. So—Big Harry Nads?”
Tate smiled shyly into the world created by Brian’s chest and
his faith and the love that seemed to have survived in the core of
them, and nodded. “Yeah. Big Harry Nads the rat. He’ll fit right in.”
The moment was quiet, and the music started up in Talker’s
head again. He started singing, “‘Dance, then, wherever you may
be….’” And Brian started humming it too.
Don’t Miss
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
About the Author
AMY LANE teaches high school English, mothers four children, and writes the
occasional book. When she’s not begging students to sit-the-hell-down or taxiing
kids to soccer/dance/karate—oh my! she can be found catching emergency naps,
grocery
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