Intervention
Scotty was on shift until the next afternoon, so Brent worked out by himself. Scotty also had a spa appointment scheduled, but late, so they could work out together tomorrow. Scotty seemed tight-lipped about his second job. It irritated Brent, and he didn’t know why.
Am I jealous?
Shirtless and sweaty, he had just finished his workout when a car pulled up at the curb in front of his house. Brent never got visitors, and he ran off solicitors and Jehovah’s Witnesses. A man in a blue uniform walked up and asked, “Are you Brent?”
“And you are?”
“You probably don’t remember me. You weren’t conscious the last time I saw you. I’m Chet Rawlins. I work with Scotty.”
Now that Chet was close, Brent recognized the uniform.
“Thank you for what you did that night. I should have come down to the station and told you in person.”
“Just doing my job, but you’re welcome.”
Chet’s voice was even, almost uninviting, and Brent asked, “So what can I do for you, Chet?”
“I want to talk to you about Scotty.”
“Do you want to come in and grab a beer? I need to jump in the shower quick.”
Chet didn’t want to prolong his visit, but given that Brent was so sweaty, he said, “Sure.”
Brent led Chet through the garage and into the kitchen. Grabbing two beers, he set one on the kitchen table and said, “Here you go. I’ll only be a minute.”
Chet opened his beer and took a sip, and a few minutes later Brent came back wearing a tank top and shorts, his hair still wet. He sat at the table and said, “Now what about Scotty?”
“I don’t know much about Scotty’s job at the spa, but I know it’s not legal. He’s never said a word about details, but I know it’s sex related. The night we came here, he called you by name, and when I asked him how he knew you, he said you were a client of his.”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I’m making it my business. Scotty’s like a brother to me. My wife adores him and my kids call him Uncle Scotty. He’s the best man in our station, and everyone agrees with me. Scotty’s too modest to see it. He’s not acting himself, and I know why. I’ve seen this before, when his old partner cheated on him. I’ve seen him when he’s hurt and trying to mask it.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“No, I don’t. But I know Scotty very well. Since we came here on your 911 call, in the last six months, all he talks about is “Brent this” and “Brent that.” He doesn’t realize how often he says it when we’re riding around in the ambulance or at the station during our downtime. I recognize the signs—he’s in love with you, and I don’t want to see him get hurt. My wife and I helped him through his last breakup, and it almost killed him. He says he’s happy, but he’s not. He loves you, and you don’t love him—not in the way he wants or needs. I see him every day, and it’s like he’s throwing himself against this wall, only to come away bloodied and hurt a little more inside, not seeing the scabs. But all of us see it, and I want to know the truth… do you know?”
Brent looked like a deer in the headlights and sat speechless. After a moment, he said, “We’re great friends. He was there for me at the hospital after my wife died. He was the only one who showed up and stayed with me when I needed it. He’s like a brother to me.”
“You’re way more than a brother to him, man. You have to see that.”
“We have an arrangement. We met at the spa, but now we work out together, and I… well, I let him do things to me. I know he likes my body, and he gets off on getting me off.”
Chet slammed his fist down on the table, “Be honest with me, you fucker. Have you ever once reciprocated? Or do you just lie there and get your jollies without any care for his feelings?”
Chet knew he struck a major chord with his question. Quietly, Brent said, “No.”
“Goddamn, I wanna chew you up and spit you out. You are one self-centered son of a bitch. Scotty helped you through the worst time of your life, and you repay him by tearing his heart out. I’m telling you right now, you either man up and talk to him, or I will. If you aren’t capable of feeling anything back, then you need to break it off and quit stringing him along until he breaks. It took him years to get over Kit, and he loves you way more than he ever did that rat bastard.”
In a steely voice, Chet said, “I’ll give you some time to figure out what you’re gonna do. If you really are friends with him, think of what’s best for Scotty and not just about getting your rocks off.”
Chet stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. Silence settled as Brent sat motionless, wide-eyed and stunned.
<><>
The next morning, Scotty received a text from Brent – “Hey bud, there’s an emergency at work and I have to fly up to DC unexpectedly. I might be gone for a few days. Don’t slack while I’m gone.”
Scotty’s heart sank. He was supposed to work out with Brent that afternoon.
Fuck. Oh well. This was bound to happen sooner or later.
With Brent out of town, Scotty didn’t feel like working out, at least by himself. Brent told him not to slack off, but his heart wasn’t in it. He relished the time they were together, no matter what they did. Scotty knew he was in trouble emotionally, and he was setting himself up for heartbreak. Occasionally, Brent showed him affection, though, especially after Scotty got him off when he was vulnerable. That kept the spark of hope alive that maybe Brent would change and develop feelings for him.
I’m fucking up big time, and I can’t seem to do anything about it. I walked into this with eyes wide open and still fell for it. I’m pathetic.
<><>
A few days turned into a week, and then Scotty got the surprise of his life. Coming off a three-day shift, he went to Brent’s house expecting him to be there, and found a “For Sale” sign in the front yard. The house key he used to get into the garage was missing, too, and looking through the window beside the front door, the house was empty. Brent had moved out without saying a word.
Pain hit him so forcefully, he sat down hard on the front steps by the door. Tears came that he couldn’t stop. He pulled out his phone and texted Brent – “What the hell is going on? Call me!” – but his message was undeliverable. He called, and the number was unavailable.
He’s ghosted me. Why? What did I do?
Scotty couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. Something must have happened, or changed. Slowly, he walked back to his house and fell onto his bed. The tears started again, and he couldn’t stop them. Brent ripped his heart out, just like Kit had done, but this time was worse.
In the morning, when he woke, Scott was a zombie. He had a few sessions booked at the spa but called in sick. He stared at his phone, willing it to ring and be Brent, calling with an explanation and to tell him everything was going to be alright.
Scotty stayed in the house all day doing nothing, unable to focus. He was the same the next day, and the next. He called in sick at the fire station, and a few hours later his phone rang. It was Chet.
His voice flat and emotionless, Scotty said, “Hey, Chet.”
“Damn, you don’t sound good. I was calling to check on you. Terry said you called out sick.”
“Yeah, I just can’t make it. Mental health day.”
Chet’s tone changed instantly, and he asked, “What’s wrong? What are you not telling me.”
Scotty broke down. Chet was his closest friend besides Brent, and he told him the truth. “Brent’s gone. He ghosted me. I went to his house at the end of my last shift, and the house was empty. He moved out. He told me a few days before he had an emergency at work and had to fly up to DC. He planned the move while I was on shift so I wouldn’t see the movers. There’s a “For Sale” sign in his front yard.”
Scotty rarely heard Chet get angry, but he blurted out, “That son of a bitch.”
“I don’t know what I did, Chet. I must have done something wrong, but I can’t imagine whatever I did would cause him to sell his house.”
“Scotty, I’m really sorry. Between you and me, I know how you feel about him. I know you too well, and you fell for him months ago. He must have figured it out, and he’s too much of a chicken shit to talk to you about it. The only mistake you made was falling for the wrong guy. Let me talk to Terry and get the next few days off, and you can come stay with me and Linda. If you stay at your place, you’re just going to sit around and mope. Being around the kids will help keep your spirits up. What do you say?”
“Thanks, Chet, but no, at least not right away. I’m going to try and track him down and make him talk to me.”
“I think that’s a big mistake and against my better judgment, Scotty. You’re just going to make it hurt worse, but do what you feel you need to do, man. Remember, Linda and I are always here for you. If you change your mind, call me, okay? Promise?
“Promise. And Chet, don’t take this the wrong way, but I love you, man. Thanks.”
“I love you, too, Scotty. Keep your chin up, and call me if you need anything.”
<><>
Scotty tried every way he could think of to contact Brent. He contacted the realtor on the “For Sale” sign. He even called the Pentagon, but every attempt was a dead end. Brent blocked him on every front. After a few days, Scotty took Chet up on his offer to stay at his house. He was right about the kids. CJ, or Chet Jr., and Lizzie stayed with him every moment they were awake, and their laughter and giggles helped... Until his head hit the pillow, and the heartache returned. He cried himself to sleep each night, trying to imagine the “why” behind it all. He had such bad luck with guys, and his self-esteem was at an all-time low.
After a week, Scotty didn’t have a choice and went back to work. Chet was wonderful to him, making him talk things out so he didn’t let his emotions bottle up. He kept Scotty focused on his job, and Scotty loved to cook and helped Linda with dinner each night, and he read to the kids before bed.
When it was time for him to go back to his house and to work the next day, Linda said, “Scotty, it’s been great having you. We worry about you, but honestly, having you here was like a vacation for us. It’s going to be hard to get back to our normal, boring, married routine without you around.”
He laughed and hugged her and said, “Thanks for your support. You’re the best wife of a work husband I could ever ask for.”
The worst of the intense emotions was over, but the slow ache continued, and everyone who knew Scotty saw it. His eyes lacked the spark they used to show. He trudged through life and work, and he smiled occasionally, but he rarely laughed. As Brent had taught him to do, he channeled his emotions into weight lifting. He became more health-conscious and stayed trim. With his improved appearance, one thing that did make him laugh were all the jokes the guys at the station put on him about dropping the soap in the shower. He loved them all and felt most like himself at the station. When alone, he still worked on projects and slowly improved the house. He made enough money from the spa to put in a pool, although he had a huge battle with his HOA about it.
His life continued, and after another year had passed, Scotty was finally starting to show signs of being happy again. If not happy, he was at least content, but it was a start.
<><>
One afternoon, the entire station responded, along with two other stations, to a huge apartment complex fire. The fire spread through the old complex fast, and people on the upper floors had to jump off their balconies.
An unconscious woman Scotty was treating started to come too in a panic, “My baby! Where’s my baby girl!?”
Chet said, “Ma’am, you were the only one in the apartment.”
“She’s still in there!”
“What apartment?” They had trouble understanding her. She suffered from severe smoke inhalation and kept coughing, but Scotty heard, “3C.”
With no hesitation, Scotty told Chet, “Stay with her.”
Amid the chaos of firefighters rushing around, Scotty couldn’t spot Terry, and there was no time to try to find him, so he ran up the stairs. Her apartment was on the third floor, and the building was engulfed in flames, but the crew on the ground was working tirelessly, aiming the streams as effectively as they could.
Scotty grabbed his mask and an oxygen tank from the ambulance and ran into the apartment. The door was already open. He didn’t hear any crying and called out, “Is anyone here?” Frantically running from room to room, it was becoming harder to see. He tried to crouch down and stay below the smoke to see better. He found a child’s room with a large crib, and he almost missed the baby, asleep and buried under a blanket.
As he reached to pick her up, a large section of the ceiling collapsed on him, nearly knocking him out. If it weren’t for his strength and conditioning training, he might have died, but he fought through the burning debris. He wasn’t wearing full gear, and the heat scorched his skin. Leaping over the burning rubble, he grabbed the baby and jumped back over just as the rest of the ceiling gave way. He made it back to the living room when two guys from his station met him.
About to collapse, he thrust the baby into Burt’s hands, shouting, “Get her out of here!”
Randy grabbed Scotty and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and they quickly moved out and down the stairwell. Thankfully, the stairwell was mostly concrete and steel and still intact. Once in the open air and further back, Scotty quickly came too, coughing heavily. His mask and oxygen had fallen off when Randy put him over his shoulder to get him out of the building.
Back on his feet, although a bit unsteady, Scotty said, “I’ll be fine. Help the tenants.”
He made his way back to Chet and the woman from apartment 3C, who now held her baby in her arms.
Concerned, Chet asked him, “Good work, Scotty. You okay?”
Coughing and wheezing, Scotty managed to say, “I just need some oxygen and I’ll be fine.”
Grinning, Chet said, “You look a little well done, too. You were lucky as hell you didn’t get seriously burned.” He put a hand on Scotty’s shoulder and squeezed, both in support and concern. “I don’t know if Terry is gonna sing your praises or kick your ass for that stunt.”
“He can’t sing for shit, so I’ll take the ass kicking.”
“I heard that, Bridger.”
Oh, shit!
Scotty attempted to explain, but started coughing again. Terry put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Settle down. You did good. I’m glad you made it. Do you know how much paperwork I’d have to do if you fucked up and died?”
Coughing, Scotty smiled and said, “Well, at least now I know my worth.”
“You’re done for today, Bridger. Chet, check him out.”
After a few minutes on oxygen, Scotty felt back to normal, aside from feeling a bit scorched. Despite Terry's directive, he stayed with Chet and helped with more injured tenants.
It took hours, but the fire was eventually contained and extinguished. There were some casualties, but overall, the fire department received high praise for its quick response. Scotty made the news, not by name, but word spread about his rescue of the baby.
Scotty was sent home to recover. It was the last day of his shift, so he had the next four days clear. He had no current sessions booked at the spa, so he planned to relax in the pool, and maybe grill some lobster tails and a nice big ribeye.
I think my next project is going to be a covered outdoor kitchen by the pool.
The next morning, shortly after 11:00 am, Scotty’s phone rang. The caller ID simply said, Langley, VA. His stomach lurched, and a cold ball of anxiety hit him, thinking it might be Brent. He debated not answering, but couldn’t bring himself not to.
“Hello.”
“Is this Scott Bridger?”
“Speaking.”
“Mr. Bridger, thank you for taking my call. My name is Dr. Anne Coker.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Bridger, this is a bit unorthodox. I’m calling you on behalf of a patient of mine, Brent Haddock.”
Scotty couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice, “Is he okay? Is something wrong?”
“Mr. Haddock has given me permission to speak with you. I know this is sudden, but would you be able to come to Langley, VA, and meet with me? This is complicated, and it might take some time. In person would be the best option, but I understand if you can’t, or do not wish to come.”
If you can’t, or do not wish to come… she knows something.
“I don’t know…”
“I understand the difficulty of your decision. Mr. Haddock has told me quite a bit about your joint situation. I’m his Psychiatrist. He is currently a patient in the VA hospital for self-inflicted wounds. I’m trying to help him, but I’ve reached an impasse. With his permission, I’m contacting you.”
“Oh my God. Is he alright?”
“Physically, he is recovering. By all means, he should not be alive. It’s truly a miracle that someone found him. That was a month ago. I’ve been seeing him most of that time after he was able and willing to speak.”
Every bit of Scotty‘s pain at Brent’s betrayal was back and present. Tears welled in his eyes, and he started sobbing.
“Mr. Bridger? Are you alright?”
“No. I’m sorry. You caught me completely off guard.”
“I’m sorry. Mr. Haddock’s mental state is precarious. It’s not my wish to cause you any further discomfort.”
“It’s not your fault. You’re just trying to help. I… I’ll be there. I’ll try to catch a flight today. Can I call you back at this number?”
“Yes, this is my direct number.”
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