Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15) (18 page)

I look around the room. Pieces of him are everywhere. There are notes stuck to the mirror
and pictures he drew. He likes to draw cats and turn them into cartoons with silly sayings on them. I laugh out loud, and then I cover my mouth, because I don’t want him to think I’m laughing it up in here. Then I remember that he couldn’t hear my chuckle, and my shoulders ease.

I stare into the mirror and wipe away the smudged mascara that’s still under my eyes.

I hate that I cried. But it
was so perfect. It was him and me, and we made something so beautiful. I’ve had orgasms before—self-manipulated—but I’ve never had anyone studying my movements to find out what feels good to me, and I know that’s what he’d been doing. He analyzed me and adjusted, making it as good for me as possible. And it was amazing. But there was something missing. If I just knew what it was.

The only people
I have ever allowed into my life are my sisters and Marta and Emilio. Everyone else is a casual acquaintance. I don’t get close to anyone, because I have always worried that if I do, I’ll lose them. I’ll do something stupid and they’ll be gone. So the fact that I’m feeling so deeply for Ryan after such a short time is scaring the hell out of me. I don’t want to mess it up.

I wrap a towel around
myself and open the door. The bedroom door is open and he’s gone, so I step into the room. I open his drawer and see a neatly folded pile of t-shirts. I pull one out and pull it down over my head. It hangs down almost to my knees. Then I go to find Ryan.

I find him in the middle of the living room. The lights are dim and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I cover my mouth with my hand
because he’s lighting candles. That’s just about the sweetest thing I ever saw.

He looks up and his face softens when he sees me. “
I thought maybe we could talk
,” he says.

“
Ok
.”

“
Are you hungry
?”

“
No
.”

He bustles around lighting more candles. “
Do you want to take a hot bath? I heard it helps with
…” He motions below his waist, his cheeks reddening. “…
that
.”

“
I
’
m fine
.”

“
Are you sure
?” He
really looks worried, and I feel bad that I caused him to feel like this.

“
Yes. I
’
m sure
.”

He sits down on the couch and pats the spot beside him. I sit down and he lifts my feet, pulling my shins across his lap. He uses one hand to massage my legs while he talks with the other. “
When I was twelve, I decided that I wanted a cochlear implant
,” he suddenly says.

“
You did? Really
?”

He nods. “
A few of the kids at school had gotten them, and I wanted one too.”

“You didn
’
t get it, did you
?” I look at his ears.

He shakes his head. “
No. My parents wouldn
’
t allow it. They told me I could do whatever I want when I turned eighteen and could pay for it
myself
.”

“
Why didn
’
t they want you to have one
?” I lean back against the arm of the couch and get comfortable.

“
Both my parents are deaf.
My grandparents are deaf. It
’
s part of who we are. It would be like changing the color of my skin or the color of my eyes, to them. I wouldn
’
t be who I am anymore
.”

“Did you agree with them?”

“Not immediately. But with time, I grew more comfortable.”

“Do you think about getting one now?”

“Never.”

“Really?”

He shakes his head. “
Never
.” He winces. “
I think that
’
s why they would prefer for
me to date a deaf girl, since we would come from similar cultures
.”

“
Is that what we
’
re doing? Dating
?”

“
Well, today we had sex, so I’d say yes
.” His cheeks flush. “
Unless you don
’
t want to date
.” He pretends to look offended. “
Did you just use me for a booty call
?” But I can tell that there’s a little part of him that wants a serious answer.

“
I didn
’
t use you for a booty call
,” I confirm.

He snaps his fingers and says, “
Damn. I was going to brag to all the guys
.”

He says nothing else for a moment, so I say, “
I think we
’
re all more than the color of our skin or the color of our eyes. More than our hearing status. More than our culture. Do you think it would be easier if you made a family with someone who is deaf
?”

“
Maybe
.” He rocks his head side to side. “
I
’
m not sure
.”

“
Do you
want a family? Kids
?”

He nods. “
I do. And I know you do
.”

“
I do
.” I smile. “
I always have
.”

“
What would you do if you couldn
’
t play music anymore
?”

I shrug. “
I have no idea
.”

“
What do you play
?”

“
Piano. Keyboard. Whatever
.” I brush his question out of the air. I feel funny talking about music since he can’t relate to it. “
Do you like music
?”

“
I don
’
t dislike it
.” He shrugs.

“
Were you ever
jealous because Mick could hear
?”

He chuckles. “
No. But he was jealous that he wasn
’
t deaf
.”

“
Why
?”

“
He wanted assistive devices and speech therapy and all the special OT that I got as a kid. He grew up in a deaf household. He never felt like he quite fit in. Not to mention that he became the automatic interpreter for all of us when we needed to talk to a hearing person. I can still remember
the time when my dad made Mick call the electric company about a bill. He stood there and signed everything Mick was supposed to say, and Mick told him the responses. Dad got angrier and angrier, and Dad started to curse. So Mick relayed it. It
’
s what you do when you translate. But then the person on the other end of the line got angry and hung up on him. Dad was livid
.”

“
Not with Mick
?”

“
With
the world, for not making it easier for us to communicate
.” He grabs my toe and yanks it playfully. “
Sometimes it startles me that it
’
s so easy to communicate with you
.”

“
I feel the same way. Had I not met you over a tattoo, I might not have talked to you at all. I might have been afraid
.”

“
But then you asked me to lunch
.” He grins. “
And then you stole my cap. And then you made me want you by
being so damn cute with the ransom notes
.”

“
That
’
s all it took
?
Damn, you
’
re easy
.”

His eyes narrow. “
Are you ready for a relationship?”

“Define ready
.”

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then they fly open and he rushes with his hands. “
I think about you all the time. I want to know everything about you. I want to hang out with your dad. I want to play strip poker with you. I want
you to play the keyboard for me with really big speakers so I can feel the passion when you play
.”

I wave a hand to stop him. “
Why do you assume I have passion when I play
?”

“
Because you have this fire in you…
”

I point to my chest. “
Me
?”

“
Yes, you. You burn brightly
.”

“
I didn
’
t burn at all for a really long time
.”

He looks at my wrist, picks it up, and presses his lips against the tender
skin. “
Tell me about the day you did this
?”

I tug my arm back, but he holds tight, the pad of his thumb trailing from side to side across the scars. A shiver runs up my spine. My skin is really tender from the tattoos, but he’s gentle. “
I
’
ve never told anyone about that
.”

“
You could start with me.”
He puts his hands together like he’s praying
. “Did it all start with a cold, dreary night
?”

“
No, it started with a bright, sunny day. I had been depressed for quite some time. Marta and Emilio were worried, so they made me go to a therapist. He gave me meds for depression, but I didn
’
t take them. I didn
’
t want to escape my grief or my loneliness
.”

“
You had five sisters and you were still lonely
?”

“
Yes. That
’
s the thing with depression. You can be in a crowd and still feel like you
’
re
completely alone
.”

I lay my head back against the pillow. His hand goes back to rubbing up and down my shin.

“
I killed my parents, and I had a hard time getting over that. I
’
m still not over it.”

“You didn
’
t kill them.”

“I caused their deaths
.”

“
So, you didn
’
t go to therapy, and you didn
’
t take your meds…”
He rolls his finger to prompt me to continue.

“
So, I didn
’
t go to therapy and I didn
’
t take my meds and I felt like I was freefalling all the time, like there was nothing to hold onto. That day was particularly bad. It was the anniversary of their deaths
.”

“
Who found you
?”

“
Marta. I don
’
t think she
’
ll ever forgive me.”
I take a breath
. “See, the thing is I really didn
’
t want to die. I just wanted to catch up to the life that was going on all around me. I couldn
’
t. You won
’
t
understand it. I can
’
t begin to explain
.”

“
Try me. I might understand more than you think
.”

I have all of his attention. “
I wanted to be new. I wanted to start over. I wanted to be someone else. But when I woke up in the hospital, I was still me. My parents were still gone. But Melio and Marta were there, and my sisters were
there too. And they were angry at me. Melio swore at me. He swore at
us all the time, because he
’
s Emilio, but he never actually swore at me in anger. And he was very angry. And scared. And Marta…she was hurt. And at
that moment, I realized that even though my parents were gone, I had been given a wonderful gift and I was squandering it. So I went to therapy. I took the meds. The world became a brighter place
.” I toss up my hands. “
That
’
s it. That
’
s all of it
.”

“
Why the gloves
?” he asks. “
Why didn
’
t you just wear long
-
sleeve shirts to cover the burns
?”

I laugh. “
It wasn
’
t the burns I needed to cover. It was the suicide scars. They hurt my sisters and my parents every time they saw them. So I blamed it on the burns and wore the gloves. I didn
’
t want them to have to see. I didn
’
t want them to remember. And I guess I didn
’
t want to remember it either
.”