Page 3 of Tameron

“I don’t hate him,” I protested.

Nash quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t. I just…don’t like him, which is not the same.”

“It’s not?” Creek asked, looking confused.

“I hate broccoli, but I don’t like cauliflower,” Heath said. “The difference is that I refuse to eat the first, but I can toleratethe second if it’s hidden in a casserole and covered with loads of cheese.”

Hmm, that was a perfect analogy, actually. You could make a great dish with riced cauliflower if you seasoned it well. Super healthy and plenty filling. But on its own, cauliflower was not my favorite, so I understood the analogy. “Exactly. Dayton is… He’s like cauliflower. I wouldn’t choose to see him, but I’m fine as long as he doesn’t try to be my new BFF.”

“Why, for the love of all that’s holy, would Dayton want to be your new BFF?” Nash had clearly reached the point of exasperation. “The man has friends, including me, and you’re not exactly a shiny, happy personality.”

Nash’s words stung, though why, I didn’t know. “I’m not Creek.”

Creek snorted. “You’re not much better, dude.”

Really? Had I become as grumpy as he’d been before meeting Heath? Not something I liked to think about too much. Besides, I didn’t think Dayton liked me much either. A few times when I’d said something about my hearing issues, he’d made a face, like he disapproved. What the fuck was that about? It wasn’t like I’d chosen this or could do anything about it. “I have a lot going on, okay?”

Nash’s expression softened. “I know, and I understand that communicating is hard for you, but I really think you oughta give Dayton a chance. If only because he understands things about your situation better than any of us.”

As if I needed to be reminded. Dayton was a CODA—child of Deaf adults—which was why he was fluent in ASL. That should make things easier for me since he was able to sign and interpret for me when I couldn’t follow a conversation. But instead, it annoyed the fuck out of me. He only did it because he felt sorry for me. Who the fuck wanted to be pitied?

I wanted to do it myself. I didn’t need him or anyone else.

Well, I needed my brothers. Nash, Creek, and Bean—them, I needed.

Dayton, not so much.

But I would tolerate him. Like cauliflower.

CHAPTER TWO

DAYTON

“Now, I want you all to take a deep breath in. Feel your muscles slowly starting to relax. Be aware of them. Let go of the tension in your eyelids, your mouth…now in your jaw.” I did my best to moderate my voice, but it was difficult with the noise outside. The corner of my eye twitched and I tried to follow my own advice and breathe through it. “Feel the tension leaving your neck, now your shoulders…”

BAM, BAM, BAM!

The bodies in the room collectively twitched, concentration and relaxation broken. I walked over to my iPod dock and hit the button to turn the music up a little louder, but I knew it was pointless.

“Hey! Fuck you, man! Fuck you! This is fucking bullshit! When I asked for…”

I did my best not to grimace, but when someone just outside the building was cussing someone else out, it was hard to get into a good headspace for shavasana.

“Can we stop?” I turned to see Charles—one of my longtime students—sitting up halfway.“Even with my hearing aids out, I can’t concentrate with all that racket.”

“Yeah,” Edith said. She rolled to a sitting position, which seemed to be the signal for the rest of the class. I couldn’t blame any of them. We were stuck in the only place I could find with cheap enough weekly rent and an open timeslot closest to my previous class so most of my students could attend.Unfortunately, the place came with a ton of construction work just a few feet from the doors.

I let out a sigh and turned the music off. “Alright. Just shake it all off before you drive home,” I told them.

This class was a low-impact hatha session for people who were elderly and disabled. I had a couple of advanced classes with a younger crowd, but they’d been willing to hit pause until we had more permanent accommodations.

The gym burning down hadn’t been on my Bingo card to start off my transfer to the new station up north. And I was doing my best not to see it as a sign. I wasn’t really a superstitious guy—at least, not more than any other firefighter I’d met, but I was having a hard time not taking this as a personal fuck-you from the universe.

Though what I’d done to piss the universe off that badly was beyond me. I liked to think I was a chill and respectful kind of guy. I didn’t buy into the whole hero-ego bullshit people in my job position often had because of what we did for a living. I had ahealthyego and a decent amount of self-esteem, and none of it was built off being a dick to others.

I had plenty of friends, a great relationship with my family, and I always braked for animals.

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