Page 44 of Tameron

“I can do that.”

“Is it okay if we don’t, you know, label it or anything? Can it be just this?”

That made my chest ache a little, but I was happy to take whatever he was willing to give me. “Whatever you need.”

He was quiet for a long beat. “Will you teach me to sign that?”

The way his entire body relaxed was enough for me to promise him anything. He leaned into me like he felt safe in my arms. My heart kicked up a notch. I wasn’t foolish enough to hope this could turn into something more, but I was also hopeless enough to believe that someday, I might have a chance to have the man I wanted to keep as mine.

For good.

I grinned after a second, then surged in and kissed him. “Let my arm recover from that hand job, then I’ll teach you whatever you want.”

The week after Tameron and I had been together, I was restless. We weren’t at zero communication, but it had dwindled, and I couldn’t tell if he was having a bi-panic about it all or if he was just busy. I thought maybe I’d see him at yoga and get a feel for what was going on, but he was a no-show there too. He sent an apology text with no details, and all that left me with was more questions.

And I was too chicken shit to ask any of them.

So, instead of managing my anxiety like a grown-up, I decided to escape to my parents’ house for the afternoon and distract myself.

Turning the knob at their front door, I smacked the doorbell three times, watching the lights flicker as I came in. Luckily, it wouldn’t be a chaotic day with siblings, small children, aunties, and neighbors.

I’d texted earlier, and my mom was out, but my dad was fiddling around the garden now that he’d set up his barbecue gazebo. The doorbell also had a flashing light on the back deck, so I figured he’d seen it—though it was a crapshoot with him.

He hadn’t seen my texts.

Pulling open the sliding glass door, I found him lounging back in the sun like a cat, a small grin on his face. I stomped, and he opened one eye and gestured for me to sit.

‘What do you think?’ He pointed toward the gazebo.

Before taking the empty chair, I leaned over the deck to stare at his handiwork. ‘It’s crooked.’

He made a soft “meh” sound and waved me off. ‘It’ll hold.’

‘Against what?’

He held his hands out and shook them like he was freezing, then put his crooked first finger and thumb over the back of his nondominant palm and shook it before shaking both fists. ‘Big earthquake.’

I rolled my eyes and sat down. ‘The big one is never coming.’

He wagged a finger at me. ‘Never say never. You know what happens.’

I closed my eyes, then laughed and opened them when I was hit in the face with a balled-up napkin. ‘It looks great. I can’t wait for the next dinner.’

He puffed out his chest proudly. ‘I’m best. Champ!’ I couldn’t argue. My dad was a very handy guy. Always had been. He was the reason I’d had both the knowledge and the confidence to go into the career I’d chosen.

‘How are the girls?’

He got his proud-dad face on. ‘Good. Dolly started laying again. I hope you and Dax want eggs.’

We could always use eggs, so I nodded my fist. ‘Yeah, thanks.’

He sat forward, a frown on his face, and then shook his head. ‘What’s wrong?’

The only real time I cursed growing up in a Deaf house: my ability to hide my feelings was a goddamn joke. ‘Nothing.’

He gave me a pointed stare and a single quirked eyebrow. I wasn’t going to get away with brushing him off.

‘That friend I told you about? The veteran?’

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