Fighting Silence (31 page)

I awoke to Eliza’s naked ass rubbing against me. After I’d come in her mouth, I’d begged her to let me return the favor, but she’d been hell-bent on waiting until the boys fell asleep. I had no idea how long it had been since we’d fallen asleep, but Flint and Quarry must have passed out, because the house was silent. I couldn’t see her face, but she was quiet, the motion of her hips the only proof she wasn’t still asleep. Or maybe she was and, even in sleep, her body was craving mine.

I grazed my teeth over her earlobe. “Mmm. Wake up, baby.” I felt the vibration in my chest, but nothing came out.

What the fuck?

“Eliza,” I called, hoping the outcome would be different, but once again, the silence was piercing.

She immediately rolled over to face me with wide eyes, but I couldn’t focus on anything except my inability to speak.

“Eliza!” I shouted as if she could somehow make my voice work again.

I watched her tongue touch her teeth at what I knew to be the “11” at the end of my name, but she couldn’t talk either.

It’s a nightmare.
It has to be.

“Doodle, are you okay?” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping to break through whatever unknown force was compressing the sound.

With a painful flinch, she covered my mouth with the palm of her hand. Her lips moved with powerful words, none of which made it to my ears.

I shook her hand off my mouth. “I can’t talk!” I yelled, scrambling off the bed. I knocked over damn near everything in my frantic escape, but I didn’t still until my ass was against the wall.

Fisting a hand into my hair, I watched the tears fall from her eyes as she mouthed what I decided was the word “stop” over and over again.

She climbed over the bed and snatched a sketchpad off the nightstand, quickly scrawling a message that would effectively end my life as I knew it.

I can hear you. Calm down.

The weight of such simple words was indescribable.

His eyes were feral. Every single muscle on his body was taut, and the confusion was only slightly less painful than the utter destruction that crumbled his otherwise strong body the second he read my words.

“It’s okay.” My voice cracked as I slowly approached the skittish man I recognized as my rock. I wiped my tears away because I knew they would do no good. He didn’t need those. He needed
me.

He blinked rapidly as I soothed him with words he couldn’t hear.

“Eliza?” he questioned loudly once more as realization sank in, causing tears to build in his eyes.

“Shh.” I placed a finger over my mouth. It trembled wildly even though I desperately tried to keep it still. I didn’t want him to see my anxiety, but I broke into sobs when he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me against his chest.

Somehow, Till was suddenly deaf—and comforting
me.

“Is everything okay?” Flint called from outside our door.

Stepping away, I dried my eyes and threw a pair of pants in Till’s direction. “Get dressed,” I told him before remembering that it was worthless. Then I grabbed the sketchpad off the floor.

Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital.

“Eliza?” Flint said as he knocked.

“Yeah. Everything’s good,” I answered, pulling on my own clothes then opening the door.

“I heard Till yelling. Are you okay?” He looked around me to catch a glimpse of his brother, who was nervously fumbling with his shirt. His hands were shaking so violently that he couldn’t quite pull it on. “What’s wrong?”

Backing him out of the room, I whispered, “Listen, I have to take Till to the hospital. I need you to keep an eye on Q and call Slate for me.”

He took a frightened step away. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Um . . .” I stalled, trying to figure out what to say, but in the end, there was only one answer. “He can’t hear anything. It’s gonna be fine though. We just need to get him to a doctor.”

“He can’t hear
anything?
” Quarry asked in shock as he rounded the corner out of his room.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself.

Telling Flint was one thing. Quarry was something totally different.

“I don’t know yet. It doesn’t seem like it. Just call Slate. Tell him what’s going on.” I backed into the room and grabbed Till’s hand.

His eyes were all over the place, but as we walked past the boys, he still managed to recognize Quarry’s anxiety. He stopped long enough to lick his finger and stick it in Quarry’s ear. His halfhearted attempt at teasing did nothing to quell his brother’s fears. Quarry’s chin quivered as he turned and marched away.

I drove to the hospital with my hand anchored on Till’s thigh. Not a force in the world could have torn it away. It wasn’t a possessive gesture like I had seen Till do so many times before. No. It was a plain and simple connection of love, and we both needed it.

Hand in hand, we were ushered to the back of the emergency room almost immediately. He sat on a stiff hospital bed with his head hung low. We had no idea what was going on, but I knew Till. I was positive he had entirely too many worst-case scenarios floating through his head. He needed a distraction. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out a notepad and pen.

Crawling into his lap, I kissed every inch of his face that my lips could reach. His chest heaved, but not in the sexual way I was accustomed to. Till was fighting back his own emotions. He didn’t need me to witness that.

So I started drawing.

It wasn’t much. Just a stick figure climbing through a window. But it seemed to help. I drew a woman on the other side and gave her huge boobs. Till looked up then, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. After snatching the pencil from my hand, he added a freckle under her right breast. I laughed, and his eyes snapped to mine. His gaze flashed to my mouth as he swallowed hard. But he eventually lost the battle.

Burying his face in my neck, Till lost it completely. He clung to me as his shoulders shook. I couldn’t tell if any tears actually fell from his eyes, but his body was being ravaged. He would never admit it, but I thought he was more scared than upset. I felt helpless, but I held him as tight as possible and whispered encouraging words that would never be heard—those were for me.

A few seconds later, Slate walked into the room, and I threw up a hand to halt him. Till would have been mortified if the only man he considered a father witnessed his breakdown, no matter how understandable it might have been. Glancing down at Till in my arms, Slate nodded understandingly and backed out of the door.

Sucking in a deep breath, I decided the doomsday pity party needed to be over. It wasn’t helping anyone. The fact was that, while I hated this for Till, it wasn’t the end of the world. No one was dead or dying. Millions of people lived happy lives despite their inability to hear. Till was no different. We would be happy too.

I slid off his lap, and his red-rimmed eyes bounced to mine in question.

“No more,” I announced very slowly so he could read my lips. I took my finger and poked into his chest. “You are okay.” Then I moved it to my own chest. “I am okay.” Then I motioned it between us. “We are okay.” I grabbed the notebook and jotted down the words:
Nothing else matters.

He stared at the pad for a few seconds, but eventually, his shoulders relaxed. A second later, they squared, and a second after that, Till was done with the pity party too. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. He was still pale and nervous as hell, but “The Silencer” Till Page had officially shown up to the fight.

His eyes fearlessly held mine, and I gave him a weak grin.

Lifting his hand, I kissed his palm. “I love you.”

He responded with his mouth, but it wasn’t in words.

He snaked a hand out, grabbing the back of my neck, and pulled me in for a hard, closemouthed kiss. As soon as he was done, he settled me back onto his lap, but this time, Till’s strong arms were protectively holding
me,
not the other way around.

Slate’s here,
I wrote.
Do you want me to let him in?

He nodded and allowed me off his lap. When I opened the room door, Slate was standing in the hall, talking on the phone.

“It’s okay, Q. He’s gonna be fine. I promise,” he said, holding the back of his neck and pacing the hallway. “Look, Johnson is gonna be there in a few minutes. Let him in. He’s gonna hang with you two until Till gets back. Nah, I know you don’t need a babysitter. Just humor me.” He shook his head and glanced up at me. “Hey, I gotta go, Eliza just came out. I’ll keep you updated.” He hung up and slid the phone back into his pocket. “How is he?”

“Better now.”

“Can he hear anything?”

I had no answer besides to just shake my head.

“Shiiit,” he breathed, raking a hand through his hair.

“He wants you to come in, but we’re not grieving anymore, okay? It’s fight time.”

Slate smiled and squeezed my shoulder before using it to pull me into a side hug. “You’re a good woman, Eliza.”

“Thanks,” I replied, but I embraced the moment of comfort and reassurance his hug provided—feelings that were usually reserved for the man on the other side of the door.

Slate walked into the room first and stopped in front of Till. Then he grabbed the notebook and pencil off the bed and began writing. Till motioned for me to rejoin him. As he kissed the top of my head, I resumed my position on his lap.

For a moment, I thought Slate was writing a novel. Finally, he passed the notebook back and then crossed his thick arms over his chest.

Just so we are on the same page about something, “The Silent Storm” is my nickname. I had it trademarked years ago. I have absolutely no problem suing you for everything you have if you try to steal that shit. No matter how fitting it may be for you now.

Till barked out a laugh as he finished.

Slate watched him warmly before saying, “You’ll be fine.”

Till nodded, once again refusing to speak.

It wasn’t long before the doctor made his way into the room. They swooped Till away for what seemed like a million tests—it at least took long enough to be a million. Slate stepped into the hall and spent most of the time on his phone while I sat awkwardly, alone, and in silence—just like Till. I cried even though I knew I was supposed to be fighting, but I was just so fucking numb.

Finally, they ushered us into an audiologist’s office on the far side of the hospital. The fact that there was an audiologist in his office at three a.m. led me to believe that Slate had been busy calling more than just Quarry while he had been in the hall. Till settled in the chair next to me, taking hold of my hand to rest it on his thigh. I would have preferred to be back on his lap, but this was neither the time nor the place for comfort. This was the place for the truth about the future.

“Okay, Till is currently hearing at less than five percent.” He looked at Till and pointed to the screen above his desk, where the words were forming as he spoke them.

“Will it come back?” I inquired hopefully.

“No. I’m fairly certain that it won’t be coming back.”

Till cleared his throat and cracked his neck as the doctor’s prognosis appeared on screen.

“Given your history, we didn’t anticipate your hearing to disappear this suddenly. I’ve been told that you are a professional boxer, and while trauma can cause hearing loss, it’s more likely your genetic condition that’s the culprit here. However, like I told you, a cochlear implant is a great solution for your type of hearing loss.”

“Wait. What?” I jumped from my chair.

The doctor glanced at Till before looking back at me.

“He’s eligible for an implant? He could hear again?”

“Well, that part is up to Till. But yes, he is eligible.”

Till shook his head and stood up, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. I wiggled out of his grasp as tears of joy sprang to my eyes.

“Oh my God, you’ll be able to hear again!” I laughed, but he watched me blankly. “What?” I asked as my smile faded.

He grabbed a pen and paper off the doctor’s desk.
No implant.
It costs too much money.

I snatched the paper from his hand. “You have insurance now,” I spoke out loud as I wrote. Then I turned to the doctor and asked, “Insurance will cover the implant, right?”