Silent Heartbeats - 2. Chapter 2: Jeremy is still leaving in the shadows of his past. What could have changed?

Jeremy descended the grand staircase, each step echoing through the vast foyer of his estate. The gleaming marble beneath his feet reflected the soft light of the chandeliers above, casting a warm glow on his perfectly tailored suit. It was a masterpiece of bespoke tailoring—deep navy, almost black, with subtle pinstripes that caught the light in the most elegant way. His crisp white shirt and black silk tie added to his aura of sophistication, while the polished black leather shoes completed his ensemble with a touch of classic charm.

He moved with a graceful ease, his every motion exuding confidence and poise. His cologne, a blend of rare spices and citrus, wafted through the air, leaving a trail of refined allure. On his wrist, a watch of unparalleled craftsmanship glinted—a Patek Philippe, the epitome of luxury, its gold and diamond face marking the passage of time with delicate precision. Cufflinks, platinum and sapphire, adorned his sleeves, catching the eye with their subtle shimmer.

As Jeremy approached the living room, his gaze was irresistibly drawn to a large, imposing portrait that dominated one wall. It was a painting of Ethan, his beloved, whose ever-smiling face seemed to radiate warmth and love. Ethan's eyes, captured so vividly in the portrait, seemed to follow Jeremy, piercing through the canvas and looking directly into his soul.

Jeremy's steps slowed, and he moved towards the portrait, one hand sliding into his pocket while the other hung loosely by his side. His expression grew stern, a sigh escaping his lips as he stood before the image of Ethan. The room was silent, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside as a gentle breeze swept through the open windows.

In that quiet moment, Jeremy felt the wind swoosh softly around him, and then he heard it—a whisper, so faint yet so unmistakable.

“I love you,”

Ethan's voice seemed to say, carried on the wings of the wind. A shiver ran down Jeremy's spine, and he closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash over him. It had been five years since Ethan's untimely death, five long years of enduring a void that no one else could fill.

Jeremy opened his eyes and stared at the portrait, his heart aching with the familiar pain of loss. The world had continued to turn, and many things had changed, but for Jeremy, time had stood still in the moment of Ethan's passing. He was still missing him, still yearning for his touch, his laughter, his love. The emptiness left by Ethan's absence was a wound that had never healed.

Standing there, Jeremy felt the weight of his grief, the heaviness of a love that had been abruptly cut short. His life, though outwardly perfect and adorned with every luxury, was incomplete. No amount of wealth or success could ever replace what he had lost. Ethan had been his everything, and without him, Jeremy felt like a shadow of the man he once was.

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of the portrait frame, as if hoping to feel some connection to the past, to the love that had once been so vibrant and full of life.

“I miss you,” he whispered, his voice breaking the silence of the room. “I miss you so much.”

In the quiet aftermath, Jeremy stood there, allowing himself a moment of vulnerability, a moment to remember and to mourn. He knew that he would carry Ethan's memory with him always, a constant presence in his heart. And though the pain of loss would never fully fade, he found a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that Ethan's love was still with him, whispering through the wind, reminding him of the bond they had shared.

Jeremy was abruptly brought out of his reverie by the unmistakable sound of tiny feet pattering against the hardwood floor. A small voice called out,

“Daddy!” and he turned his head in the direction of the sound, his heart lifting at the sight that greeted him.

Running towards him was Andrew, one of his beautiful twins, with a beaming smile that could brighten even the darkest of days. Behind him, walking more slowly and with a thoughtful expression, was Oliver. Seeing them, Jeremy's stern face softened, and he managed to put on a smile. He knelt down just as Andrew reached him, the little boy flinging his arms around Jeremy's neck in a tight hug.

“Good morning, Daddy!” Andrew greeted, his voice full of innocent joy. Jeremy wrapped his arms around the boy and kissed his cheek, his heart swelling with love.

“Good morning, my little man,” he replied warmly. Andrew's dark hair was neatly shaven, and his bright eyes sparkled with happiness.

Jeremy then turned his attention to Oliver, who stood a few feet away, watching them with a blank expression. Oliver was a handsome little boy with blonde hair, just like Ethan's. As he had grown older, he had become quieter, rarely talking to anyone, and his contemplative demeanor often reminded Jeremy of Ethan.

“Come here, Oliver,” Jeremy said gently, opening his arms wide. He smiled encouragingly, hoping to bridge the distance that seemed to have grown between them.

For a moment, Oliver hesitated, his blue eyes—so much like Ethan's—studying Jeremy's face. Then, slowly, he walked forward and allowed himself to be enveloped in Jeremy's embrace. Jeremy held both boys close, feeling a mix of joy and sorrow. These children were his world, the living legacies of his love with Ethan.

“Good morning, Oliver,” Jeremy said softly, kissing the top of his blonde head. Oliver looked up at him, his face softening just a little.

“Good morning, Daddy,” he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeremy held them for a few moments longer, savoring the warmth and the love of this simple family moment. Despite the pain of his past, these boys were his hope for the future, and he was determined to give them all the love and support he could.

The father-and-sons moment was soon joyfully interrupted by a cheerful voice.

“Are you boys ready for breakfast?”

Jeremy raised his head to see a handsome man approaching them with a wide smile. He wore an apron over his clothes, and his shoulder-length dark hair, streaked with blonde highlights, framed his chiseled face. His piercing brown eyes and well-toned physique completed the picture of charm and warmth.

It was Dexter, Jeremy's childhood friend.

“Breakfast is ready and it's going to get cold,” Dexter announced, his smile broadening as he watched Andrew's eager reaction.

Andrew nodded enthusiastically and jumped up and down. “I'm hungry!”

Oliver, on the other hand, clung more tightly to Jeremy, not saying a word but clearly seeking comfort in his father's presence.

Dexter chuckled, a light-hearted sound that filled the room.

“Looks like someone can't wait to have the delicious breakfast,” he teased Andrew, ruffling the boy's hair gently. Then, shifting his gaze to Jeremy, Dexter's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. “Hey, why are you wearing something different from what I laid out for you?”

Jeremy sighed, a hint of exasperation mingling with amusement. “This is what I wanted to wear, Dex.”

Dexter's smile turned sheepish, and he shrugged. “Fair enough, but you know I have an eye for these things.” He stepped closer, reaching out to adjust Jeremy's tie. “Let me just…”

Jeremy raised his hand and stopped him mid-way.

“It's fine, Dexter,” he said, his voice firmer than he intended.

For a moment, the room fell silent, and Dexter stood there, looking dumbstruck and hurt. His advances had been stopped and it made him feel like such an idiot for even trying.

Dexter's smile faltered, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Jeremy's face.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I just…”

“I have to go.” Jeremy chimed in. “Take the boys for breakfast.”

Dexter stood there, the hurt evident in his eyes as he watched Jeremy leaving. Lost in deep thought, he couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, forever lingering in the shadows of Jeremy's heart. His mind raced with memories and emotions, a storm of longing and frustration.

Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and a sweet voice broke through his reverie. “You don't have to look so worried, Dexter. Jeremy will come around.”

Dexter turned and found himself looking into the warm, understanding eyes of Laura, Jeremy's mother. She was as stunning as ever, her hair elegantly curled and loose, framing her beautifully made-up face. Her dress, simple yet sophisticated, accentuated her grace. She smiled at him, a look of kindness and empathy in her eyes.

Dexter took a harsh breath, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him.

“I'm tired of waiting, Aunt,” he confessed, his voice tinged with desperation. “Even after five years, Ethan still owns Jeremy's heart. It's like there's no room left for anyone else.”

Laura's smile softened, and she stepped closer, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Dexter, I understand how you feel. Jeremy's loss was profound, and Ethan meant the world to him. But you have to remember that healing takes time. Jeremy has been through so much, and he's still finding his way. He barely talks to me too, his mother.”

Dexter nodded, but the frustration in his eyes didn't wane. “I know, but sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I'll never be enough. I see the way he looks at Ethan's portrait, the pain in his eyes... It's like he's still trapped in the past.”

Laura's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her own sorrow for her son evident. “It's true, Dexter. Jeremy's grief runs deep. But you are more important to him than you realize. You've been his rock, his constant support. He may not always show it, but he needs you.”

Dexter sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just wish he could see that there's still a future ahead of him, a future that could include us. Sometimes I wonder if he'll ever be ready to move on.”

Laura gently squeezed his shoulder, offering him a reassuring smile. “Give him time, Dexter. Jeremy is strong, but he's also human. He's afraid of letting go, of losing someone else he loves. But I believe in my heart that he will find his way, and when he does, he'll see the love that's been waiting for him all along.”

Dexter looked into Laura's eyes, finding solace in her words. He knew she spoke from a place of deep understanding and love for her son. “Thank you, aunt. I needed to hear that.”

Laura nodded, her smile brightening.

“Anytime, Dexter. You’re like family to us, and we all want to see Jeremy happy again. Just be patient a little longer.”

Nodding, Dexter smiled at the beautiful woman and together, they took the kids in for breakfast. Each day, he yearned for the man’s touch and he wasn’t gonna stop until he got what he wanted.

***

Jeremy entered the premises of his company with an air of authority and purpose. Employees and staff members greeted him respectfully as he walked through the sleek, modern lobby of Jethan Couture. He acknowledged their greetings with a curt nod, his expression serious and focused. As the president and founder of the company, Jeremy embodied the essence of professionalism and drive, traits that had helped him build one of the country's most prestigious fashion empires from the ground up with his beloved husband, Ethan.

The sleek glass doors closed behind him, and the familiar hum of productivity filled the air. Jeremy's eyes scanned the bustling office, taking in the sight of designers, marketers, and administrative staff moving with purpose. It reminded him of the days when Ethan would be right there beside him, navigating the chaos with his characteristic energy and charm. Jeremy could almost see Ethan darting around the office, juggling a dozen tasks with a smile on his face.

Lost in his memories, Jeremy sighed, wishing he could go back to those vibrant days. The ache of Ethan's absence was a constant companion, even amid the success they had built together. His reverie was abruptly shattered when he felt a sudden bump, followed by the sound of papers scattering across the floor.

Startled, Jeremy looked down to see a young man sprawled on the floor, his head bowed and papers strewn around him. The young man's dark brown hair was tied in a neat ponytail, and as if in slow motion, he raised his head to meet Jeremy's gaze. His face was strikingly cute, with pink lips forming a surprised 'O' and deep green eyes that sparkled with a mixture of shock and embarrassment. He was dressed simply, in casual clothes that contrasted sharply with the sleek professional environment.

Jeremy paused for a moment, taking in the boy's appearance. The young man's expression was one of pure surprise, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Jeremy's heart softened slightly at the sight, but his exterior remained composed. He didn't look at the boy for long before he continued walking, his stride purposeful as he left the young man to collect himself.

Meanwhile, the boy sat on the floor, stunned by the abruptness of the encounter. He watched the man who had bumped into him walk away with an air of indifference.

Groaning angrily, Carter muttered under his breath,

“What an asshole! Can't even apologize.” He added with a touch of spite, “Hope he has a terrible day.”

He took a harsh breath, trying to calm his frustration, and started picking up his scattered papers, cursing softly. As he gathered the documents, he noticed another pair of hands helping him. Surprised, he looked up and gasped at the sight of a handsome young man smiling down at him.

The man had an easy, apologetic smile and an aura of kindness. “Hey, sorry about that. Let me help you.”

Carter's anger melted slightly at the stranger's gesture. Together, they quickly collected the papers, and when they were done, Carter straightened up and offered a grateful smile. “Thanks. I'm Carter Mayson. It's my first day here.”

The young man returned the smile, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Carter. I'm Noah, and I'm the boss's brother.”

Carter's smile widened at hearing that Jeff was the boss's brother. “It's nice to meet you, Noah,” he chuckled. “I just hope the boss is as nice as you are.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You actually just met him—the man who bumped into you.”

The smile on Carter's face started to fade, his mouth opening in shock but no words coming out.

“That was the boss?” he finally managed to stammer.

Jeff nodded, a reassuring grin on his face. “Yes, that was Jeremy, the president of Jethan Couture. But don't worry. He might seem tough on the outside, but he's a wonderful man.”

Somehow, Carter didn't find that particularly reassuring. Before he could voice his concern, Noah continued, “Anyway, the boss doesn't like being kept waiting. You should head to his office.”

Taking a deep breath, Carter nodded. “Can you point me in the right direction?”

Jeff gave him a quick set of directions and patted him on the back once more. “You'll be fine. Just be yourself.”

Carter nodded, trying to muster some confidence. “Thanks, Noah.”

Meanwhile, in his office, Jeremy sat in his fancy leather chair, his legs casually propped up on the desk. He was reviewing some documents when he heard a knock on the door. He glanced in the direction but didn't respond, expecting whoever it was to figure out he was busy. When the knock came again, he still didn't respond, growing slightly annoyed.

The door opened, revealing the boy he had bumped into earlier. Jeremy's eyes flicked up from his papers, a hint of recognition and surprise flashing across his face.

Carter stood in the doorway, clutching his papers nervously.

“Uh, Mr. Rivers?” he began hesitantly, trying to maintain his composure. “I'm Carter Mayson. It's my first day, and I was told to report to you.”

Jeremy's gaze remained fixed on the boy standing nervously in the doorway. With a cold tone, he replied, “I don't remember telling you to come in.”

Carter's mouth trembled, a shiver running down his spine. “I-I, uh, no one was saying anything, so I figured I'd just come in.”

Jeremy's face grew stern. “You said it was your first day. I don't recall hiring anyone recently.”

Carter nodded quickly, trying to maintain his composure. “I applied, got the acceptance, and was told to report today.”

Jeremy groaned, irritation clear in his voice.

“And what exactly are you supposed to do in my company?”

“I'm a fashion designer,” Carter said nervously, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeremy chuckled, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

“Only I can be the judge of that.”

He extended his hand, expecting something. Carter froze, not understanding what Jeremy wanted. With visible frustration, Jeremy snapped, “I hate to be kept waiting.”

Gulping, Carter hastily retrieved some papers from his folder, his hands trembling as he handed them over.

“Sorry, sir.”

Jeremy sighed, taking the papers and beginning to flip through them. The designs were undeniably good, showcasing a talent that, with some polishing, could truly shine. As he reviewed a few more pieces, Jeremy raised his head to speak to Carter but froze instead.

Carter stood there, looking extremely nervous. His thumb was in his mouth, a gesture of nervousness, and he was biting down on it anxiously. It wasn't just the nervous demeanor that made Jeremy pause—it was the way Carter bit his thumb, the expression on his face, and the mannerisms that triggered a flood of memories. His late husband, Ethan, used to do the exact same thing when he was anxious.

For a moment, Jeremy's stern facade cracked. He was transported back to moments with Ethan, seeing him in Carter's small, nervous gesture. The resemblance was uncanny, and it brought a wave of emotions he wasn't prepared to handle.

Carter, unaware of Jeremy's internal struggle, shifted uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

“Sir?” he ventured cautiously, sensing the shift but not understanding it.

Jeremy came out of his reverie and quickly looked away from Carter, refocusing his attention. He tossed the files onto the table with a dismissive gesture.

“The designs are good,” he said curtly.

Carter's face lit up with happiness, but it was short-lived as Jeremy continued, his tone growing cold. “But they're not good enough for my company.”

Carter's heart sank, and his initial joy evaporated. He felt a lump form in his throat, his earlier confidence wavering.

“But... but I can improve. I just need a chance,” he stammered, his voice trembling.

Jeremy's gaze remained cold and unyielding. “I don't need an amateur,” he said firmly. “I need someone who knows what they're doing.”

Carter's hands trembled as he clasped them together, tears welling up in his eyes. “Please, Mr. Rivers, I promise I'll work really hard. I don't want to disappoint you.”

Jeremy sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his own harshness but unwilling to relent. “I have a lot of things I need to do, and you being here is wasting my time.”

Carter's voice cracked as he pleaded, “I just moved to the city. This job is my only hope of surviving. Please, give me a chance.”

Jeremy shrugged, his face impassive. “I don't see how that's any of my problems.”

The words hit Carter like a physical blow, and he felt a sharp sting in his heart. A tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. Silently, he gathered his files from the table, his movements slow and heavy with defeat. He took one last, lingering look at Jeremy, hoping for a change of heart.

But Jeremy's expression remained stern, and Carter knew there was no point in arguing further. With a final, shaky breath, he turned and left the office, closing the door softly behind him.

Carter desperately pressed the elevator button, trying to keep his composure as tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. The pain of rejection gnawed at him, but he promised himself he wouldn't break down. When the elevator finally arrived, he stepped inside, lost in thought. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't hide his tearful eyes. In an attempt to shield his emotions, he pulled the band from his ponytail, letting his hair fall loose around his face.

Meanwhile, in his office, Jeremy was feeling a deep sense of upset. The image of Carter's tear-streaked face haunted him, a nagging guilt tugging at his conscience. He took a harsh breath, trying to push the feelings aside. Grabbing his laptop, he attempted to refocus, but his thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of his phone. He picked it up, listening for a moment before replying, "I'm on my way downstairs."

Jeremy took a moment to fix himself, straightening his suit and collecting his thoughts. He needed to maintain his professionalism, no matter the inner turmoil. With a determined breath, he got up and left his office.

***

Dexter sat on the couch, his heart filled with anticipation. He looked effortlessly handsome, dressed to kill, exuding an aura of confidence and charm. The twins, Andrew and Oliver, were seated on the couches nearby, each lost in their own world. Dexter's eyes kept darting towards the direction he knew Jeremy would come from.

Andrew, unable to contain his curiosity, asked, “Uncle Dexter, where's Daddy?”

Dexter smiled slightly and replied, “He's on his way, Andrew.” He resumed his vigilant watch, his heart beating a little faster with each passing second.

Meanwhile, Oliver, who had been quietly absorbed in his thoughts, suddenly raised his head. His eyes widened in shock as he spotted a familiar figure in the distance. The dark brown hair and the way the man moved reminded him so much of someone he couldn't quite place. Without a second thought, Oliver sprang from the couch and darted towards the man, his small legs carrying him swiftly. In the midst of Dexter's anticipation and Andrew's questions, no one noticed Oliver slipping away.

As the elevator doors opened, Jeremy stepped out, his face reflecting surprise upon seeing Dexter. Before he could say anything, a delighted scream pierced the air.

“Daddy!” Andrew cried, rushing towards Jeremy with unbridled joy.

Jeremy's face lit up with a smile as he scooped up his son, hugging him tightly and showering him with kisses. “Hey there, champ!” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Dexter chuckled, walking over and lightly touching Jeremy's arm.

“The boys missed you,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “So, I thought it would be a good idea to bring them to the office and surprise you. We can go out and have some fun together.”

Jeremy, still holding Andrew, looked at Dexter with a mixture of gratitude and affection.

“That sounds like a great idea, Dex. Thanks for bringing them.”

Just then, a wave of realization hit Dexter. He quickly scanned the area, his smile fading.

“Wait, where's Oliver?”

Jeremy's heart skipped a beat as he looked around, his grip tightening on Andrew.

“Oliver?” he called out, his voice laced with worry.

In the distance, Oliver was running as fast as his little legs could carry him, his eyes fixed on the man with the dark brown hair. His heart pounded with a mixture of fear and hope. He had to know who this man was, why he seemed so familiar.

Dexter and Jeremy, now both filled with a sense of urgency, began searching frantically for Oliver.

“Oliver!” Jeremy called out, his voice echoing through the lobby.

There was no response, only the echo of his own voice reverberating through the lobby. Fear gripped his heart, making it difficult to breathe as he and Dexter searched frantically for any sign of the boy.

"Oliver!" Dexter shouted; his voice strained with worry. They looked everywhere: behind couches, under tables, in every nook and cranny of the office, but Oliver was nowhere to be found. Jeremy's heart pounded wildly, his mind racing with terrifying possibilities. He felt himself begin to tremble, the fear consuming him.

“Guards!” Jeremy yelled, his voice cracking. “Help me find my son! Now!”

The guards sprang into action, combing through the company premises with a thoroughness that matched Jeremy's desperation. Despite their collective efforts, Oliver was still missing. Jeremy's fear escalated, his vision blurring with panic. The image of his little boy lost and alone gnawed at him, making it hard to think straight.

In a last-ditch effort, Jeremy decided to check outside. He burst through the building's entrance, scanning the area wildly. His heart nearly stopped when he saw Oliver standing in the middle of the road, crying, his small frame shaking with sobs. Terror seized Jeremy, a cold, paralyzing fear that made his blood run cold. He felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, the sight of his son in such a perilous position too much to bear.

“Oliver!” Jeremy screamed, his voice hoarse with desperation. He noticed a huge truck barreling down the road, the driver seemingly oblivious to the small child in its path. Jeremy's body moved on instinct, his legs propelling him forward with every ounce of strength he could muster.

“Oliver, get out of the road!” he screamed, his voice raw with fear.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. Jeremy's heart pounded in his ears as he ran, each step feeling like an eternity. The truck loomed closer, and Jeremy's screams intensified. He pushed himself harder, faster, but the distance between him and Oliver felt insurmountable. The truck's horn blared, a deafening sound that sent a jolt of pure terror through Jeremy.

Just as the truck was about to reach Oliver, a figure darted out from the sidewalk, grabbing the boy and pulling him to safety in one swift motion. Jeremy's breath caught in his throat as he witnessed the narrow escape, relief flooding through him like a tidal wave.

He rushed to the side where his son was, breathing like a woman in labor. Oliver clung tightly to his rescuer, tears still streaming down his cheeks. Jeremy's eyes widened in disbelief as he realized who it was.

"Carter?" he breathed, his voice a mixture of shock and gratitude.

Carter looked up, his expression a mix of relief and concern. His hands trembled slightly as he held onto Oliver, who buried his face in Carter's chest, still sobbing.