Page 54 of Tameron

He stuck his hand out nervously, and she scoffed, pulling him into a hug.

‘Sorry. Deaf thing,’ I signed sheepishly.

My mom laughed and patted him on the chest. ‘You’ll get used to it.’

He frowned, so I interpreted aloud for him, and he flushed. ‘Thank you. That was nice. I haven’t had a hug from a mom in a long time.’

My mom’s face threatened to do that thing where she got all emotional and shattered, so I quickly threw my arm aroundhim and pulled Tameron away. “Come on. Chickens,” I said and signed.

‘Tell your dad to bring in some carrots,’ my mom signed after me.

I threw a quick ‘Okay’ over my shoulder as we slipped out the sliding glass door and onto the deck. The air was cooler than it had been when I got there, a briny breeze wafting past as I led the way to the stairs and down to the grass. The house was on a hill—just like all the houses in the city—but the yard was bigger than most and the walls were high.

It gave the place a sort of detached feel that a lot of homes in the Bay Area didn’t have. I loved it.

“My dad,” I said, pointing. He was leaning over the fence, throwing something at the chickens. Feed? No. I cringed. Crickets. They started hopping as the girls began to go wild, running after them.

We got close enough that I could wave, and my dad turned, grinning when he saw us. This time, Tameron was ready for the hug. He was taller and larger than my dad, but he seemed to shrink in his arms.

It was blatantly obvious that Tameron had been missing this—that he’d been deprived by distance and injury of this thing with my parents that I was taking for granted too often.

“…heard so much about you,” my dad was saying aloud. He didn’t often use his voice at home, so I appreciated him giving Tameron a break. “Dayton won’t shut up about you.”

Tameron’s eyes caught mine, and I gave my dad a glare. But it was ineffective. “He’s been wonderful.” He signed the word wonderful. ‘Thank you for having me.’

My dad grinned. “So polite. Let’s keep this one.”

‘Stop,’ I ordered.

My dad smiled wider. ‘No.’

Dinner went as planned. Tameron marveled at the way the table was set up, and I could see he wasn’t used to having such easy access to communication. My parents signed slow, Dax was his usual dipshit self, no one brought up the military, and no one asked Tameron if he was ready to settle down with me and give my parents more grandbabies.

All-in-all, it was a success. Mostly.

But I could tell something was off after my dad shoved a wicker basket into his hands, telling him it was full of eggs, fresh squash from the garden, and his number to text in case he needed anything. Tameron nodded, smiled, got more hugs, and was mostly spared the long Deaf goodbye.

Twenty minutes later, I managed to get him out the front door and to his car parked at the curb.

“Thanks for inviting me,” he said, his tone subdued.

I said nothing until he stowed the basket away and then turned back to me. “Was this the wrong thing to do?”

He clenched his jaw, then shook his head. “It would be easier, wouldn’t it?”

I frowned and stepped closer. “What do you mean?”

“To just…embrace this. To be Deaf.” He signed it, and I could tell what he was trying to say. “I feel like I’m choosing to run in sand, uphill, in waist-deep water with these.” He tapped his hearing aid on the left side.

“You don’t have to choose.” I eased him back against the car, boxing him in with my body. His tension seemed to ease when I pressed my chest against his. “There are devices that can make your life easier. There are things you can ask of your friends to help you get by.”

“Like what?”

I laughed and nodded. “Like flashing doorbells and making sure all your videos have captions. Like having voice-off days where everyone signs, even if you’re not around, so they get used to it. Like asking them to repeat themselves when you’re lost,” I added, and his eyes darted away for a second. That was probably the most common crime in his house. “Like listening to you when you need to be heard.”

“I hate feeling like a burden.”

Unable to stop myself, I brought my hand up to his jaw and waited for him to look at me. “I know it’s hard. I can’t imagine what you deal with after what you’ve been through. And I know it’s not just you. I see it with Nash at work. He tries too hard, like he has to be perfect. Like he’s trying to make up for something.”

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