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ever.
    “Even your pride? Even your pain? Are sure you really love
    him?”
    Talker’s shoulders got tight, his skin stretching tautly over his
    right shoulder blade just to make the whole moment more
    uncomfortable.
    “I’d die for him!” And he would. Say the word, there’s Tate
    Walker, lying down in traffic and throwing his worthless life away so
    someone as good as Brian could cross the street.
    Dr. Sutherland nodded. “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Now would
    you tell the truth for him?”
    Talker’s lungs turned to ice, and he fought off a terrible urge to
    pee.

    “KID, are you all right?” This was the officer with the fair-colored
    hair, the taller one. He looked younger than the dark-haired one, a
    family man, maybe. Maybe Talker reminded him of a son or
    something, but that was unlikely, since Talker had never really been
    anyone’s son, not since he was six, and wasn’t that a blessing?
    “I’m fine,” he croaked, trying to focus, focus. When he was six,
    he’d learned to go to the place with the music in his head, thanks to
    that nice nurse with the Walkman, and the music was playing now,
    now that he was talking to the policemen who weren’t ever really his
    friends.
    Jeremy spoke in… class today….
    “Back off him and he will be!” Lyndie’s voice actually made Tate
    spaz again, and his head cracked audibly against the plexiglass this
    Talker’s Redemption | Amy Lane
    37

    time, and he saw stars. That black, festering nausea was back and
    Talker started shaking with the need to throw up.
    The cops looked up, looked at her, and for a minute there, he
    thought he could breathe.
    “Ma’am, we’re just trying to find out what happened to your
    son.”
    “My nephew was beaten by some thugs in a back alley—as
    awful as it is, it happens all the time. What he wouldn’t want is for
    Tate here to be bullied by a couple of cops who think they know
    every goddamned thing!”
    Tate looked at Lyndie through a haze of dark vision. She was
    lying for him. All this woman had ever done was be nice to him, but
    she was lying for him, so he didn’t have to tell the truth. Jed had lied
    for him, Brian had fought for him, oh, dammit, couldn’t Tate Walker
    with the punk hair and the BAMF tattoo protect himself?
    “Lady, he looks guilty!” the dark-haired guy said, and Tate
    whimpered.
    “I’d die before I hurt Brian,” he whispered, and the two cops
    were all about him again.
    “Yeah, so why the flop-sweat, ace?” It was the blond guy, but
    his voice was almost gentle.
    “Don’t like cops, don’t like hospitals, don’t like seeing my
    boyfriend beaten up.” Some attitude crept in there, and Talker gave
    many thanks to an absent God. His vision cleared for a second, and
    he pushed off the wall with his hands. The stucco was smooth and
    cold against his palms, and it was not, was not the beveled wood of
    Trevor’s front door, and there wasn’t a lock or a sneer or a bobbing,
    veiny cock anywhere in sight.
    Oh, Jesus, where had that thought come from?
    Talker’s Redemption | Amy Lane
    38

    Talker swallowed again and tried so very very hard to keep it
    all together.
    Lyndie came up next to him and fumbled for his hand again.
    When he finally managed to grab hers in return, she muttered, “Oh
    Christ. Tate, your hands are like ice. You look really shocky—I think
    we should get a nurse.”
    “I’m fine,” he lied. He’d never felt so trapped in his whole life,
    except for that one time when….

    “SO TREV stands up, right? And he says I’m not going to leave, and
    I try to laugh it off. I tell him—” swallow “I tell him that I was worried
    about Brian, and I’m going to go home and make sure he’s all right.”
    “Were you?” Dr. Sutherland asked, and Tate nodded, relieved
    to answer.
    “Yeah.” Talker swallowed and looked at Brian, who was
    clenching his hand. Brian’s lips twitched up in reassurance, but
    Talker wanted to reassure him back. Yeah, I was blind, but I