Page 1 of Tameron

CHAPTER ONE

TAMERON

I missed silence.

Kind of a funny thing to say, probably, considering I had lost most of my hearing, but the truth, nonetheless. Most people would think going deaf meant more silence—and I couldn’t blame them because I’d thought the same thing before I experienced it firsthand—but alas, the opposite was true.

My ears were never quiet.

Neither was my head, but that was a different problem altogether.

It had been a long, busy day, and the first thing I did when I hauled myself through the front door was take out my hearing aids and put them in their protective case. Lesson number one: never put them anywhere else. Ask me how I know. They were fucking expensive and the VA wasn’t paying for another replacement.

I hated them as much as I loved them, and that was a dichotomy I hadn’t quite figured out. They were amazing, but they also sucked donkey balls. Big, hairy donkey balls.

As always, the experience of having them out was almost overwhelming, like the sudden silence after a super loudconcert. Except once that first sensation passed, there was no expected silence, but a ringing.

Tinnitus, one of the many fun side effects of hearing loss. Fun being about as sarcastic as Dr. House, whose dark sense of humor I’d come to appreciate. I’d always thought him an asshole, but not anymore. I kinda understood where he was coming from now, minus the addiction to painkillers.

I sat on the lowest step of the stairs, waiting until the dizzying sensation passed. Pushing through it wasn’t smart. I’d learned that the hard way. It usually took only a few minutes, so not too bad.

Once I was convinced I wasn’t gonna keel over or, worse, throw up, I rose again and slowly did what I had to do. Shoes off and in my cubby. Backpack on top of it. Jacket on the coat rack. Nash wanted everything to be squared away, but I respected him for it. Besides, order was necessary for all of us now that our lives had become so chaotic.

It was my turn to cook, so instead of going to my room—where I would be too tempted to endlessly scroll on my phone—I headed straight for the kitchen. I’d thawed some chicken yesterday and let it marinate all day today in a mix of ketjap—this delicious sweet soy sauce I had discovered—fresh ginger, garlic, some spices, and, of course, a healthy amount of hot sauce so it would have a nice flavor.

All I needed to do now was make the chicken skewers and grill them, then serve with rice, green beans, and a satay sauce that was basically thinned peanut butter with soy sauce and sambal, an Indonesian hot sauce.

I had just started the rice cooker when the warning light in the kitchen flashed to signal someone was entering through the front door. Seconds later, Nash popped around the corner, still dressed in his EMT uniform. He waved at me, waiting for me to make eye contact before saying, “How was your day?”

He was close enough that I could understand without my hearing aids, using a combination of what little sound I could pick up and some lip reading. “Good. I did two hours of ASL class, followed by an hour of practice with my group, then did a yoga class at the gym.”

“Busy day,” Nash said.

“I don’t have classes tomorrow.”

“Good. You need practice, but you also need rest.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I teased, which resulted in the expected eye roll.

“Do you need help with cooking?”

I’d had to train myself out of the habit of shaking my head when I wanted to say no. That could result in some unintended side effects…like a dizzy spell. “I’m good. Go shower.”

He gave me a thumbs-up and disappeared into the hallway again. Nash always wanted to shower after a shift, and I couldn’t blame him. The things he encountered during his shifts were crazy, and I loved hearing his stories.

He’d only recently finished his training as an EMT—something we hadn’t even known he was doing until he was halfway through the program—but he was doing well. No wonder, with his experience in combat and in leadership. The man was unflappable, even under the most chaotic circumstances.

I was happy he’d found his new calling, even if it came with an annoying new addition named Dayton. He and Nash had become best buddies, which was all fine, except I didn’t like him. I didn’t hate him or anything. The dude was way too easygoing for that. He just rubbed me the wrong way, was all.

Another flashing light announced Bean’s arrival, who had brought his boyfriend, Jarek, with him. They waved at me before heading to Bean’s room, no doubt to make out until dinner.

Those two were still in their honeymoon phase, and Jesus Christ, it was nauseating. Made me glad I couldn’t hear half the cheesy shit they whispered to each other. I was happy for Bean, I really was, but that didn’t mean it was always easy to see him that happy…while being single myself.

Then again, seeing him find love was also an encouragement. No offense, but if Bean, with his absolute disaster of a brain—the man could barely remember his own name—could score a boyfriend, there was hope for me, right?

Not that I wanted a boyfriend. As the only straight man, I’d become a minority in our house, much to my amazement. Nash had been out as gay, but then Creek had met Heath and had suddenly discovered he was bisexual, followed by Bean coming out. What the fuck was up with that? I mean, San Francisco was the unofficial Pride capital of the US and all that, but we were way off the average of straight versus queer in our house.

As usual when cooking, my mind wandered and I got lost in my own head, slowly able to let go of all the busyness of the day. By the time dinner was ready, Creek and Heath had arrived as well, so we had a full house. Reluctantly, I put my hearing aids back on. I wouldn’t be able to follow the conversation at all without them.

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