Pavelle - The Price of Silence

A story from the Love Has No Boundaries event sponsored by the Goodreads M/M Romance Group.

Members of the Goodreads M/M Romance Group were invited to choose a photo and pen a letter asking for a short M/M romance story inspired by the image; authors from the group were encouraged to select a letter and write an original tale.

Kate Pavelle responded to this request.

PHOTO DESCRIPTION
Wearing only a cowboy hat, boots, a sleeveless plaid shirt and pair of light blue briefs, a dark-haired young man lies on his back, giving a flirty look to the viewer. The shirt is open, showing off his chiseled body. His head is propped on a bale of hay and his feet are braced on the rungs of a wooden ladder.

STORY LETTER
Dear Author,
I would love for you to give this guy a story (take the reins). Id be glad if it had a lot of first-times, Coming Out and definitely a HEA.
Sincerely,
Patrick

Love Has No Boundaries

An M/M Romance series

THE PRICE OF SILENCE

By Kate Pavelle

Introduction

The story you are about to read celebrates love, sex and romance between men. It is a product of the Love Has No Boundaries promotion sponsored by the Goodreads M/M Romance Group and is published as a free gift to you.

What Is Love Has No Boundaries?

The Goodreads M/M Romance Group invited members to choose a photo and pen a letter asking for a short M/M romance story inspired by the image; authors from the group were encouraged to select a letter and write an original tale. The result was an outpouring of creativity that shone a spotlight on the special bond between M/M romance writers and the people who love what they do.

A written description of the image that inspired this story is provided along with the original request letter. If youd like to view the photo, please feel free to join the Goodreads M/M Romance Group and visit the discussion section: Love Has No Boundaries.

Whether you are an avid M/M romance reader or new to the genre, you are in for a delicious treat.

Words of Caution

This story may contain sexually explicit content and is intended for adult readers. It may contain content that is disagreeable or distressing to some readers. The M/M Romance Group strongly recommends that each reader review the General Information section before each story for story tags as well as for content warnings.

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved worldwide.
This eBook may be distributed freely in its entirety courtesy of the Goodreads M/M Romance Group . This eBook may not be sold, manipulated or reproduced in any format without the express written permission of the author.

The Price of Silence, Copyright 2013 Kate Pavelle

Cover Design by Goodreads M/M Romance Group

This ebook is published by the M/M Romance Group and is not directly endorsed by or affiliated with Goodreads Inc.

M/M Romance Group Publication

THE PRICE OF SILENCE

By Kate Pavelle

Photo Description

Wearing only a cowboy hat, boots, a sleeveless plaid shirt and pair of light blue briefs, a dark-haired young man lies on his back, giving a flirty look to the viewer. The shirt is open, showing off his chiseled body. His head is propped on a bale of hay and his feet are braced on the rungs of a wooden ladder.

Story Letter

Dear Author,

I would love for you to give this guy a story (take the reins). Id be glad if it had a lot of first-times, coming out and definitely a HEA.

Sincerely,

Patrick

Story Info

Genre: contemporary

Tags: healing, PTSD, perseverance, horses, ex-military, blue collar/mechanic, college student, sweet no sex

Word count: 9,968

THE PRICE OF SILENCE

By Kate Pavelle

Tims whole body shook from the rumbling of the semis big wheels on the old brick pavement. He tried not to press his curious face against the window as he soaked up the sight of pristine white houses with their black doors and black shutters and shy pansies in planters by their stoops.

I shouldnt even be here, the trucker said. His name was Joe, and he was making a delivery of reproduction period furniture to an address in a historical part of Watertown, Connecticut. Thus the old road. The vibrations from the truck will turn these roads to shit if everyone just drives up like we do.

Not much we can do, Tim said in his slow, even voice. Not unless you want to hump the dressers over the stone road on a dolly. He adjusted his cowboy hat and narrowed his eyes as he looked around some more. The trees in the yards indicated a verdant spring was under way and the airs bright, clean luminescence threatened to blind him.

You sure you wont ride with me after we unload? Joe asked as he navigated the large truck down the road, bumping over pavement buckled by old sycamore roots.

I saw some stables off Route 8, Tim said, his voice wistful. I can get work in these parts, I figure. And the citys right nearby.

Whatever you say, cowboy. There was a smile in Joes voice, a smile disguised by his bushy beard and the bill of his Harley Davidson baseball cap. Just, this aint Wyoming. People here might have different expectations. Just sayin, us army types do pretty well at truckin and shit. You might come to like it.

Tim shrugged. He didnt think of himself as an army type anymore no more than he thought of himself as gay. Those were just words, semantic designations used to keep people in their little pigeon holes. He still would have been fixing army trucks, had it not been for an unfortunate encounter with an IED. If he were an army type, like Joe suggested he was, Tim wouldnt flinch at slamming doors or the occasional backfire of an engine. The concussive force of the explosion forced all kinds of issues into his unwilling mind: insomnia, poor concentration, short temper. He was diagnosed with PTSD and a traumatic head injury, declared unfit for duty, and sent home.

His eardrums grew back eventually, but the armys doctors and shrinks could do only so much to fix what was wrong with him otherwise. Tims family drove him crazy by treating him like a cracked spun glass figurine, and it got to where he couldnt take being protected and coddled anymore. The open road called his name. Wyoming had been home once, but Tim had learned that the low population density and conservative culture kept both his employment and his dating opportunities to a minimum. He hit the road, drifting from job to job for almost two years now. His skill with horses and engines kept him in gas and food money, but no place on the face of this earth had called his name. Until now.

****

Sweat ran down Tims face and he felt all prickly and knew he smelled bad. Unloading a truck full of furniture in the heat of the day tended to do that. He wiped his face with a red bandanna and grinned at Joe.

All done? Tim asked.

Yeah, delivered and signed for. You sure you want to stay in this Yankee town? Joe scratched the hair that was plastered under his baseball cap. It was black with sweat and made a contrast with his greying beard. The sleeve of his rolled-up shirt slipped some, exposing an old tattoo.

I like it here, Tim said. I dont know why. It just its old. Older than the West. The stones are old, the trees are old. The cemetery we passed looked like it had been there forever. Ill be fine. The air of stability intrigued him, enticed him. There was a soothing, calm quality to the air itself and he thought that this would be a right fine place to settle down and stay forever. This was the