Free Here for You by Skylar M. Cates Page A

had been shaved away for his craniotomy. He had no smile or expression on his face.
    Brendan had the best smile.
    “Cole’s here too,” Ian said. “We’re both right here.”
    Bending slowly at his waist, like an old-fashioned gentleman might do, Cole raised Brendan’s hand and kissed it. But this was no ballroom. The artificial lights hummed over their heads. There was no music. The room was freezing. Yet Cole didn’t want to release Brendan’s hand. He clung to it for as long as he could.
     
     
    C OLE LOST track of time: how long they’d stood over Brendan before a nurse entered and asked them to give her a moment; how long Cole, Tomas, and Marc had done nothing else but wait for the end, while Brendan’s parents talked quietly with Ian. What they had to say to each other, Cole had no idea. Maybe they thought Ian was Brendan’s boss but not one of those gay men like his “degenerate roommates”? Brendan’s parents acted as if they were generous for allowing his friends to stay in the waiting room or visit Brendan at all.
    Brendan had loved his parents and been saddened by their rejection. He tried on holidays, on birthdays. Unlike the rest of them, he didn’t completely give up hoping that one day his folks would accept him, the real him, and they’d repair their relationship. It broke Cole’s heart to watch year after year as Brendan got his hopes up, only for disappointment to crush him.
    “Not this year?” he’d ask, attempting to smile, a frozen look on his face. “Maybe next Christmas.”
    Brendan’s parents had never said they were sorry, not once, for acting like that.
    Cole walked away from Tomas and Marc. He sat down in a chair at the end of the hallway and covered his face with his arms. He couldn’t go back in to see Brendan, not again, because it had shown him that River was right. That his stupid, petty, small-minded folks were right.
    Brendan wasn’t there. That room held a body.
    “Cole.”
    Ian slid into the chair beside him. He had more than a little stubble on his jaw, something Cole doubted Ian normally allowed since he was so neat and conservative all the time, and his mouth looked pinched. His eyes were sad.
    Cole couldn’t imagine how wrecked he must look, his eyes red and puffy, snot dripping off his nose. No matter. It wouldn’t even begin to reflect his insides, where pain lanced through him and stomped his guts out. He trembled and then forced himself to try to stop.
    “I met with Brendan’s parents. It will be happening soon, you know.”
    Ian hesitated, unable to say more, and Cole nodded. He knew. The machines would be unhooked very soon, now that they’d all told Brendan good-bye.
    Only Cole hadn’t—he couldn’t speak. Even Marc had finally gone in and said his piece, coming out red-eyed and sobbing. Cole still couldn’t find words. He was frozen. He’d clung to Brendan’s hand, quietly crying, unable to talk.
    “I did change their minds on one thing. I convinced them to agree to organ donation before…. I think Brendan would have wanted that much, don’t you?”
    Cole looked at him in amazement. “You got them to change their minds? Wow. I didn’t think that would be possible on anything.” He sniffed. “Yeah, I do. Absolutely, Brendan would have wanted that. God, I should have already thought about it.”
    Ian smiled thinly. “His parents were less sure, but I agree with you. So I argued, well, I persuaded them to think it over. We looked at his driver’s license, and he’d checked it off. Obviously, Brendan was too young to worry about wills or what he wanted otherwise, but I asked them to consider donation, and they just now agreed.”
    “Good, that’s… good.” Cole leaned closer to Ian. “Brendan loved helping everybody. He wanted to fight for justice and all of that. Right the wrongs out there. I’m sure all those people waiting on those lists, needing help, would be so happy, and that would have made Brendan happy too. And this way,