Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15) (7 page)

Paul opens his mouth to say something, but Pete adds, “
I gave Reagan a heart on the inside of her ankle
.” Paul calms down
immediately.

Words come tumbling, almost unbidden, from my fingertips. “
I like Lark a lot, but she
’
s not the type of girl I normally date
.”

“
Tits too small
?” Pete asks.

I glare at him. “
Her tits are perfect
.”

“
Ass too wide
?” Pete says.

“
No such thing
,” Sam tosses out.

“
She
’
s too smart for you, right
?” Matt asks, but he’s grinning.

“
Definitely
,” I agree. She’s smart and funny and thoughtful.
And scarred in so many ways. But I can’t tell them any of that because it’s her secret to tell. Not mine.

“
Then what makes her not your type
?” Paul asks. “
Is it the hearing thing
?”

“
The hearing thing
?” I ask, waving my hands sarcastically. “
You make it sound like it
’
s nothing. She can hear. I can
’
t. It
’
s a pretty big thing
.”

“
Peck plays drums and I can
’
t
,” Sam says.

“
Reagan kicks ass and I
can
’
t
,” Pete tosses out.

“
It
’
s not the same
,” I protest.

Sam stares at me. “
Peck stutters and I don
’
t
.” The room goes quiet.

Logan speaks up. “
Emily can
’
t read well, and I can
.”

Emily has been very outspoken lately in the media about her dyslexia and has started some programs for kids who find reading difficult, so I’m not surprised Logan is bringing this up.

“
Friday has a foul mouth
,” Paul
says. He scratches his chin. “
Wait, I do too. Never mind
.”

Matt shoves his shoulder.

“
We
’
re all different
,” Josh says, moving the wheels on his wheelchair back and forth so that he rocks. “
Let
’
s face it, dude. The only thing that makes us all the same is that we are so very different from one another. If you’re going to let the fact that she can hear keep you from getting to know her, that
’
s on you
—
but you could be missing out on something wonderful
.”

They stare at me until it gets uncomfortable, and I pick up the weights to break the tension.

They all go back to exercising, all discussion on the matter stopping, but I can see them shooting looks at one another, and I can tell this is going to be a topic for discussion later when I’m not around.

My phone vibrates in my pocket
and I pull it out. It’s a picture of my baseball cap leaning against a fire hydrant. There’s a dog standing next to it.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Your hat is in mortal danger. I can choose to save it from the dog that really looks like it needs to pee. Or I can leave it to its fate. What’s your choice?

Me:
What are my options?

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Lunch with me?

Me:
I already have plans for lunch.
Do you want to join me?

Lark McCapSnatcher:
What kind of plans?

Me:
Meet me at the library at 1 and I’ll show you. If you have enough balls.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Last time I checked, I had no balls at all.

Me:
1 o’clock? Library?

Lark McCapSnatcher:
You talked me into it.

Me:
Now pick my cap up before it gets pissed on.

Lark McCapSnatcher: (Sends me a selfie with her wearing my cap)

Me:
Prettiest thing I’ve seen all day.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
The cap?

Me:
The girl in the cap.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Gotta go throw some cold water on my face. Totally blushing here.

Me:
You want to talk about my dick? It’ll take your mind off your blush.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Dude, that just went weird.

Me:
My dick wants you to know that it has balls. Since you don’t have any.

She doesn’t reply.

Me:
Did I just skeeve you out?

Lark McCapSnatcher:
No, I was too busy laughing to catch my breath. Your dick has balls. That’s handy. They come as a matching set, I hear.

Me:
You mean I’m not unique?

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Not when it comes to your junk, I’m afraid. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

Me:
Better the bearer of bad news than the wearer of bad shoes. Just sayin’.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
I’ll see you at 1 at the library.

Me:
Don’t wear bad shoes.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
I don’t own any bad shoes. And I’m officially offended.

Me:
Talking about my dick didn’t offend you but talking about your shoes does?

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Shoes are sacred
.

Me:
So is my dick
.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
Prove it.

I swipe a hand across my mouth, trying to wipe away the silly grin I know is plastered
across it.

Logan sits down across from me. “
You’ve been laughing at your phone for the last five minutes
.”

I hold it up. “
L-A-R-K
,” I tell him.

He nods. “
You going to let the hearing thing stand between you
?”

I shake my head. “
No
.”

He grins. “
Good
.”

Me:
I want another date with you
.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
I’ll think about it.

Me:
See you at 1
.

Lark McCapSnatcher:
See you then!

Lark

He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a blue t-shirt, and he’s the most handsome man standing in front of the library. He’s with a small group of people signing, and I hesitate to interrupt. After a minute or two, he sees me and motions me over. He’s smiling, and his friends look curious.

“
This is my friend Lark
,” he signs. “
I invited her to join us
.” He introduces his friends really quickly.
Then he stops next to a man who looks a lot like him, but he’s a little stockier and his hair is darker. “
This is my brother Mick
.”

I stick out my hand. “
It
’
s nice to meet you
.”

“Nice to meet you too.” He doesn’t sign it. He says it. I look at Ryan. I thought everyone in his family was deaf.

“
He
’
s the oddball who can hear
,” Ryan says. “
But our parents kept him anyway
.”

I must still look confused.

“
He
’
s just jealous because I can hear the pretty girls whistle at me
.” Mick smiles and looks at me like I have two heads. Or four boobs. Or something else he can’t quite figure out. “You look shocked,” he says.

“A little, actually.” We walk as a group into the library.

“Not nearly as shocked as I am,” Mick says quietly so that only I can hear. “I’ve never seen him with a hearing girl. Speaking
of which, don’t find yourself alone in a corner with any of them. I’m not sure they like you.” He nods toward the girls, who don’t look that happy to see me.

“
I
’
ll be right back
,” Ryan says to me and he walks over to talk with a person behind the circulation desk.

“So, what do you do for a living, Lark?” Mick asks.

I grin. He doesn’t know who I am. “I’m a musician.”

He narrows his eyes at
me. “And for some reason, that’s making you look suspicious as hell.”

I shrug my shoulders and wallow in the joy of having him not know who I am. It’s freeing.

“So how did my deaf brother, who can’t hear music, hook up with a musician?” He rocks back on his heels and smiles down at me.

“He gave me a tattoo.”

“And…” He pauses and draws it out like the word will go on forever.

“And I stole
his baseball cap. I’m holding it hostage so he’ll go out with me again.”

He smiles. “Again?”

Heat creeps up my cheeks. “We’ll see.”

Ryan turns and motions me forward. As we walk around the corner, his hand slides into mine and he looks down at me and smiles. It’s a sleepy, guilty little smile, and my heart starts to trip.

Mick looks at our clasped hands and looks away quickly, but I’m pretty
sure I saw him biting back a grin.

We walk into a large room with a group of children sitting on the floor. They’re all facing a woman who’s sitting on a stool beside a stack of books. Expectation hangs heavy in the air, like a kid waiting to lick the beaters when Mom’s making a cake. The woman at the front of the room waves as we walk in.

Mick takes the stool when she gives it up, and he picks
up the first book. Ryan leads me to a spot at the back of the room and points to a chair, but I sink down onto the floor instead, directly behind the children, and cross my legs in front of me. A few parents linger on the edges of the room.

The kids are excitedly waiting for whatever is about to happen. Mick motions to the stack of books. “Which book do we want to read first?”

“
The Very Hungry
Caterpillar
!” the kids yell at once.

Mick folds his arms and pretends to look cross. “Something tells me you’ve all heard these stories before.”

“No, no, no,” they cry. “We’ve never heard these before!” They pretend to be adamant about it, but I can tell this is a game they’ve all played before.

“You’re
sure
you’ve never heard
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
?” he asks, and he teases them by opening
the book.

“We promise!” they yell on top of one another.

He puts the book back down.

Ryan barks out a laugh beside me. It’s noisy and beautiful, just like him, and I’m giddy inside just seeing how excited he is.

Mick picks up a different book and the kids cheer for that one too, but not quite as loudly as they did for the caterpillar book. One of Ryan’s friends goes and sits on the floor beside
Mick and holds her hands at the ready.

She starts to tell the story in ASL, and Mick follows along with her signs, reading out loud as she goes. She obviously knows the story by heart, and he’s just keeping up and showing the pages, but the excitement is for the way she’s telling the story. She’s not just interpreting. She’s storytelling. She’s using ASL to paint a vivid picture of what’s happening
in the book for the children. She’s acting, signing, and being overall funny, puffing out her cheeks and shaking her finger. Mick laughs at her and continues to read, keeping in time with her story, even if it means he has to pause every now and then so she can elaborately draw a picture with her hands. She’s telling a story with her hands and the rest of her body.

It’s mesmerizing.

And it’s
so much more than I ever thought storytelling could be.

Everyone claps when she’s done, and I see that a small group of children waves their hands in the air. “
Clapping for deaf kids
,” Ryan explains to me. I see that the kids are wearing hearing aids and other listening devices. They enjoyed the story tremendously, and so did the hearing kids.

They read seven more books, and each person in the
group performs a different story. Then it’s time for
The Very Hungry Caterpillar
. Mick picks up the book and the kids go crazy.

Ryan looks at me and winks. Then he gets up and goes to sit on the floor by Mick. I had no idea he would be performing.