Page 22 of The Sound Of Us

The rest of the agenda passes quickly. According to the next speaker, whose name and title I’ve forgotten (I think she’s the librarian, the way she keeps scolding the children for pulling books out of the shelves), sign language classes will commence immediately as of next weekend. A qualified teacher from the neighboring town has agreed to lead the classes. She comes very highly recommended and at least one person from each family must attend. It’s the least they can do for Mr. Saxon and could Mr. Saxon please attend some classes to advise on the progress of the learning.

Then, apparently, there’s a book fair coming up and could Mr. Saxon please hand out the Benson Bookworm award for this year? I agree because the pressure of the mayor’s wife’s enormous smile is stifling, and I’d forgotten how to say no. There’s also the grand reopening of the fire station later in the month.

I’ll have to admit, for people who don’t have much, they sure know how to have fun.

We’re dismissed after that, and the crowd disperses for some cake and tea. I’m ashamed to say I ate everything on display, much to the delight of the members of the Mom’s Club, but I drew the line on choosing the best cake. I wasn’t about to upset whatever hierarchy might exist in this club.

I look for the blond guy outside while eating a dozen samplings of different cakes and pies. I spot him on the far side of the building and before I could decide my stalking boundaries, I’m already across the parking lot. His shoulders are hunched over and his head is bowed. Another man comes into view. He’s massive. Well-built and, well, handsome. The blond man walks up to him and stands close.

I can vaguely make out what the other one is saying. Did he say can’t or cunt?

Something’s wrong with this scene. The blond man is standing too close for them to be just acquaintances, and the other man’s body language is just too aggressive. He has something bunched in his fist and he shakes that fist in the blond’s direction. Whatever is in his hand seems to be the cause of his hellish behavior. After some more spitting out whatever words, he flings the thing in his hand to the ground.

Then, out of nowhere, the other man pulls his hand back and slams it across the blond boy's cheek. The impact is so powerful, the boy spins a full three sixty and smashes into the wall next to them.

I’ve never in my life seen anyone get assaulted. My father never laid a finger on my mother. My parents never touched me like that. School bullying was heavily controlled and dealt with, so we experienced hardly any physical fights at school.

I’m stunned into a frozen stupor. That someone could be on the receiving end of such a brutal action is shocking. The man stalks off in the opposite direction before I can recover from my shock but I regain my senses quickly enough to make my legs move in the direction of the man just as he picks himself up, also picking up whatever the other man had thrown on to the ground. He’s brushing dust from his pants when I get to him.

His eyes round in shock when he sees me. He stuffs whatever is in his hand into his pocket, but not before I see the object of all this inhumaneness.

A pair of black lace panties.

I look away to give him that one second to think I hadn’t noticed.

For someone who’d just been hit as hard as he was just hit, there’s not a single tear in his eyes. But his cheek where he’d been hit is red, the finger marks from the other man’s hand is clear as day.

He smiles at me. A soft, beautiful smile that meets his exquisite gray eyes, and made even more beautiful by the appearance of his dimples. I don’t understand how he’s standing here, smiling at me like this with a five finger mark on his face.

“Are you okay?” I ask in sign. If he doesn’t understand, I’ll type it for him.

He’s not sure. “Am I okay?” he asks.

I nod.

He glances in the direction the man had disappeared and then back at me. “Yeah,” he says.

I reach up to touch his cheek. He jerks back like I’ve burned him and I drop my hand immediately. Fuck. What am I thinking?

“See you,” he says, and he brushes past me.

I return to the crowd in search of the other man. And then I find David. “Who is that? I type on my phone, pointing at the man who’d assaulted the blond guy.

“That’s Frank Davis. Nice guy.”

Nice guy? I only just manage to keep the disgust out of my face.

Then I point to the blond boy. He’s now standing next to an elderly woman who looks like a movie star. She looks concerned as she inspects his face. He plays with his dog while he tries to get away from the older woman’s inspections. “And who’s that?” I ask David.

“That’s Axel.” His name warms me up inside. Putting a name to his sweet face sends my heart skittering.

Then David says, “Frank Davis’ husband.”

If you didn’t think it was possible for your heart to plummet and rocket to the stars at the same time… well, it is.

Chapter 11

Axel

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