Page 22 of Signed With Love

The loud beeping of the monitor that tracks the rhythm of Billy’s heart sounds steady in the room. Claire glances at the machine again, observing how the green line glides across the screen. She pulls a hand through her long blonde hair and ties it off with a band around her wrist. I don’t think she’s taken a normal breath since she arrived at the hospital.

I’d hoped seeing Billy would help, even though he’s in bed. He’s alive, and he’s with her, but there’s still a tension radiating through Claire that’s visible with every harsh slash of her hands. Claire’s hands begin a flourish of signs to her father. Not as graceful as she normally communicates. There’s a sharp edge to her body now, and her hand movements reflect it. She’s also moving so quickly, I’m unable to understand a word of what she’s saying.

When she signs to me, it’s always so smooth. Slow and emphasized so I can understand. Billy signs back although it pulls against his IVs every time. He doesn’t flinch or reveal how it must hurt for him to move.

“Hello, Jamison.” Gloria places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. The subtle hint of floral perfume hits me. I hadn’t even heard her enter the room, and I’m always aware of my surroundings.

“Hey.” I glance her way a moment, but my attention is drawn back to Claire. She’s agitated, and it seems to heighten as the conversation continues.

“This isn’t going well.” Gloria sighs. She watches her husband and daughter. Billy’s gray eyebrows have lowered, wrinkling on his forehead. I make out the definite no he signs to her. Claire doesn’t seem to be backing down either.

I want to walk over and calm her down like I did in the car earlier. If only I could place my hands somewhere on her, do something to connect us and let her know she’s not alone and can lean on me if she needs to. At some point—and I don’t know when, how, or why it happened—I developed this need to protect her.

I’m rising as if instinct demands it, but Gloria’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I wouldn’t.” I ease back in the chair, trusting her to guide me with this. I’m still learning all the little intricacies of Claire.

But then Claire looks at me, and that something inside of me pulls toward her. I rise, not allowing Gloria to hold me back. I trust the connection between us and give Claire a soft smile, a look to convey that I understand, and reach for her hand. She takes mine without hesitation and rises. She needs to get away, take a second to grasp everything that’s happened. The moment she’s clear of the doorway, her body collapses against the wall. She folds over, a sharp yet delicate sigh passing through her lips. My hand smooths over her shoulders.

I sign nothing, let my touch speak for me this time. Let her know I’m here, that I’ve got her. She can fall apart, and I’ll be there to pick her up.

When we got the call that Billy had a heart attack, my world tipped sideways. He’s become such a vital part of my life. I knew if we lost Billy, it would break Claire. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’d also never been so calm in all my life. I worked on instinct, adrenaline, and knowledge that I wouldn’t and couldn’t fail this time. And we saved him. Got him to the hospital.

The moment I handed his care off to the doctor, my focus centered on Claire. I knew I had to get to her because I knew what it was like to fear for the life of the person you loved the most. You have to go to them, be there for them, but your mind never thinks clearly. When I lost Mom, had it not been for Chadwick, I’d have been more of a mess than I was, and I wanted to be there for Claire the same way. So, I leave my hand on her back, the soft silk of her blouse beneath my rough palm. She sighs again, then rises and wraps me in her arms. I go willingly into her embrace.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and the delicate way her voice sounds makes me swallow. She doesn’t use her voice but for poignant moments like these, when her hands are otherwise occupied and she doesn’t want to let go.

I squeeze her tighter and accept her thanks. Her hands bunch the material of my shirt, and her face stays smashed against my chest. Her hugs are always so much more than any normal hug. Claire goes all in with her embraces. She molds to me, so close I have no option but to feel every inch of her body against mine. Her scent sparks a deep-rooted need inside me, so I have no choice but to disconnect us with a low moan. My body reacts to hers in a way that is not appropriate for the situation.

When she pulls away, there’s a soft pink hue to her cheeks, and she runs a hand through her hair, forgetting she tied it off. She bites her lip and looks to the linoleum floor rather than meeting my eyes. I drag a hand down my face and think of completely unattractive thoughts, fighting thoughts of Claire’s soft body nestled in my arms, her lips pressing into mine, wondering if she would whisper words to me if I occupied her hands in other ways…

Not one of those damned thoughts is appropriate. I told myself more than once that I wanted to be friends with her, to know her on a level I haven’t reached with another woman. I promised I wouldn’t drag her into the mess I made of my life, but those promises are getting harder to keep.

I drop my hands and try to sort out what I want to sign to her, but Claire’s eyes are occupied. Her gaze is penetrating as it slides higher, lingering on my chest. Her breathing is unsteady. She uses the tip of her tongue to wet her bottom lip, and my body is drawn forward. She gasps, her head forced to tilt back to meet my eyes.

I don’t mask what I’m sure my eyes reveal to her. I spend the time memorizing her eyes. The way her glossy look speaks to me so much. The way her unsteady breathing lets me know she’s just as affected by my presence as I am by hers. My hand lands on the wall next to her head as I take one more step closer. So much for listening to myself. I’m right back in her space, staring at her lips and imagining them on mine.

“Jamison?” My head jerks to the left, my hand falling away. Gloria’s brows are raised, her eyes bouncing between her daughter’s and mine, then back.

Your father wants you, Gloria signs, then turns back into the room.

Claire breaks away. I follow her, unable to allow her much more distance than that. Billy and Claire start their conversation again, but this time at a softer, perhaps more agreeable level.

I’m itching to ask Gloria what they’re talking about, but it’s not my place. Instead, I take up a sentinel position and keep Claire in my line of sight. After a few moments pass, Claire rises to speak to her mother, and Billy waves me over.

“I want you to get my daughter out of this hospital. I’d say take her back home, but she’s stubborn as a goddamn Chinook. So, get her out of here. Her sister’s spirit sits heavy on her, and she needs to rest. I’m counting on you. Now go.”

I agree because how can I not? The toll this day has taken on Claire wears heavily on her body. She’s dragging along. Even as she tells her mother something, her hands are tired. And I hadn’t known she lost her sister, but if this horrible place reminds her, then it is time to go.

Claire worked all day. Long hours because it was nearly six by the time I got to her home. Then the scare of her father and the two-and-a-half-hour drive and arguing with him…she needs her rest.

When Gloria steps away to join Billy’s side, I take Claire’s hand. I squeeze, a reassuring one.

Let’s go. I tilt my head toward the door.

She drops my hand. No. He needs me.

He’s got your mom.

She glances over my shoulder, and I turn to see Gloria beside her husband, fussing over him. I catch Claire’s eye when she turns back. I raise a brow and dare her to argue with me. She concedes with an eye roll, then walks to her father and tells him good night, informing him she’ll be back in the morning.

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