Page 35 of Loud Unspoken Memories

“I have a deaf niece. And my brother’s new wife is deaf, too.”

I smile. Finally, he’s revealing some personal details. “Fascinating. Will you sign something?”

He sets down his fork and moves his hands around quickly, doing all sorts of signs.

Before Dad died and we moved into an apartment in another school district, I had a deaf friend in middle school. I learned a little ASL back then. But I’m super rusty. Still, as he talks with his hands, I pick up a few signs. I could swear one of them isbeautiful.

“What did you say?” I ask.

He blinks then looks down at his food. “That it’s snowing and cold and no tow truck is coming for at least another few days especially since it’s going to be a holiday.”

He’s lying. I’d bet my right arm that’s not what he signed at all.

There’s no more eye contact while we finish up our meal. No conversation either.

When he’s done, he picks up a book and sits with Bex on the same couch I was sitting on when he was cooking. I concentrate on doing the dishes, having to keep myself from turning to see if he’s watching me the way I was watching him. I swear I canfeelthat he is. My whole body is flushing and tingling. Hell, it’s practically humming as I wonder if he’s thinking about earlier. How he ran his tongue down my body. How he pushed his fingers inside me. How he made me come twice—something Charles was never able to do.

Okay, so Dallas wouldn’t exactly knowthatlittle tidbit. But I do. And it does nothing to lessen the ache in my belly that longs for it to happen again.

By the time I’m done with the dishes, Dallas has fallen asleep on the couch, just like I had. His arm is resting on Bex’s back. His head is cocked to the side, leaning on the high couch cushion. I step closer, taking a moment to admire him. I love his hair. His long, thick, unruly hair. What’s more, I love the way my hands felt weaving through it.

Bex’s eyes fly open. He watches me as if he knows what I’m thinking. I roll my eyes at him and go change for bed. It’s still early, but it’s been a long day. I don’t bother waking Dallas. If I did, he’d probably disappear into his hobby room or go outside. It’s only been a few days, but if I know anything about him, I know he doesn’t like sleeping.

I turn out all the lights and settle into bed, watching the dancing shadows from the fireplace on the ceiling. They mesmerize me and pull me closer to sleep.

~ ~ ~

The bed squeaks and I wake. But I don’t move. I remain still and listen. He’s facing me. I can tell by the sound of his breathing. I almost flinch when something brushes against myface. I think he’s moving my hair behind my shoulder. My heart pounds fiercely, so much so that I’m sure he can hear it.

He exhales a long, slow, drawn-out breath.

I can’t stand it anymore, so I open my eyes. He’s staring right at me. Neither of us speak. Is he going to make love to me again? His eyes tell me that’s what he wants. But he doesn’t move a muscle.

“Are we going to talk about it?” I whisper.

He blinks. There’s no need to explain whatitis. We both know what I’m referring to. The elephant that’s been in the room all day. The one that’s taking up so much air it’s becoming harder to breathe.

He says a single word. “No.”

“Is it going to happen again?”

His head shakes slowly. “I don’t think so.”

Hoping I don’t sound like a desperate, horny, crazy lady, I say, “It can. I won’t hold you to anything. I’ll be gone in a few days anyway.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“Why? I said it’s okay.”

He sighs again. It’s deep and slow and straight from the pit of his stomach. “Because I’m not sure it would be you I’d be making love to.”

Tears sting my eyes. Because I’m positive I’ve never heard a more honest answer. Or a more heartbreaking one.

Chapter Sixteen

Dallas

Without a word, she rolls over. Her reaction is exactly what I expected.

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