Page 44 of Nonverbal

AFTER AMBER AND TROY GO to bed, I settle into the couch and turn off the lights. Then I wait.

Around midnight, a door creaks open and I hear Paige’s light footsteps on the tile. My heart picks up speed thinking about seeing her. I’m hopeless. It’s been two days and I’m reacting like this. Not good.

I wait until she opens the fridge before I switch on a lamp. She gasps. My eyes go immediately to the white bandage wrapped around her forearm. ‘Cool-headed’ goes out the window. “Paige,” I say with too much bite. “What happened to your arm?”

She shrinks toward the sink, letting the fridge close on its own.

I walk to the kitchen. “Paige. Your arm.”

With a small squeak, she slides to the floor against the cabinets. Something has her spooked and I don’t like it. She hides her head.

Shit. I’m not helping, am I? I know I’m a giant, and I try to be aware of that. Watch my tone. Relax my posture. Right now, I’m failing horribly. “I’m sorry,” I say, softening my voice. I sit away from her on the tile, against the fridge. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m scared.”

She lifts her head.

“I’m scared,” I repeat, because it’s vulnerable and raw, and that’s what she needs right now. “I don’t know what happened and I can’t help if you won’t tell me. I hate feeling helpless, and I can’t stand that you’re hurt. Please, tell me. You’re upset at me, right? How did you get injured?”

She opens her palms. No phone.

“In the bedroom?”

She nods, so I hurry to retrieve it. Once it’s in her grasp, she takes a breath and begins tapping.

I inhale sharply. “Lied? About what?” I would never lie to her. If I did, it wasn’t intentional. Or I didn’t know the truth myself.

My heart drops. “What?”

It’s a struggle to keep my words calm and friendly because blood is pounding in my ears. I pronounce each word carefully. They come out like hard, rigid steel. “What did Troy do?”

She glances at her arm.

That’s all I need. Details don’t matter. I’m on my feet before I can think, storming down the hallway. I slam my office door open.

Troy startles awake and sits up, groggy. “Brody? What the—”

I rip the sheets off his body. He’s naked except for boxers.

“Hey, wh—”

I grab his arm and yank him to his feet. He tries to pull free, but I shove him toward the door.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yells.

I keep forcing him down the hallway. “Getting you the fuck out of my house.”

“What’s gotten into you, man? I was sl—” His eyes go wide when we make it to the kitchen and he sees Paige shaking in a corner. Color drains from his face. “Th-that wasn’t me.”

I shove him against the front door. “Then who was it?”

Amber appears and rushes to hold Paige. “Stop yelling,” she says. “Take it outside.”

“Good idea,” I growl. “Because Troy is no longer welcome.” I open the door and shove him through.

“H-hey,” he stammers. “I didn’t hurt Paige. It was an accident. She fell on glass on the floor.”

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