Page 68 of The Sound of Him

I didn’t mean to ruin this. I promise. I can have good things. You don’t have to take them away.

Please.

I’m sorry.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry -

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he says, sounding so warm and kind. And - and he knew the sign I was using. He knows the sign for ‘sorry’. He must already know ASL.Or - or he’s been learning them for me, just like the others?

So many good things.

“It’s alright. Hey, it’s okay,” he says. I’m still signing the word, over and over. I have to think really hard to force my hand to stop. Press my face back into my bunny. “There you go. You can cry as long as you need to. We’ve got plenty of time. No need to be sorry about it.”

It’s like a dam breaks inside of me then.

I don’t know how long I sit across from him like that, my face in my bunny, crying so quietly, but so hard. A while, I think. Enough time for my eyes to feel raw when I eventually run out of energy and tears. I come back to myself to find my shoulders and back aching, my throat too.

The truth of his words is wrapped around me, but not like a vice. Not like a master’s arms. Not like rope or chains.

My story. Mine.

One hell of a happy ending.

The words are a blanket. Warm and heavy. So soft.Nice.

Another good thing.

Dr. Singh is going to help me tell my story. He’s going to help me write a happy ending.

And I’m going to fill it with so many good things.

Chapter Ten

Ace

“We’re out.” I look over at Jake where he sits at the breakfast island, my hand still on the handle of the freezer. He arches a brow. “Were you looking for a frozen meal to pop in?”

“Yeah. I saw Nolan on the cameras. Didn’t look like he’d be up for cooking. Not that it’s his job to cook for us. But he’s been cooking. Because he likes it. But he’s obviously not going to tonight. I don’t think. Well, maybe I shouldn’t assume that. I’m not going to ask, though, and it’s past the time we usually eat, so. Yeah. Frozen meals.” I look back at the freezer that’s still open. “Which you’re right about. We’re out.”

“There aren’t that many of us here. We’ll make do for the night. Restock comes tomorrow. Might as well clean out the rest of the fridge. Sandwiches and whatnot.”

“I can cook.”

His silence has me turning away from the freezer to look at him. His expression screams skepticism. “Can you, though?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?”

“I mean…” he shrugs half-heartedly before waving a hand. “Have at it. That’d be great.”

“Cool.”

“Cool,” he echoes, now looking amused. He nods his head toward me, eyes darting over my shoulder. “Close the damn freezer door. You’re letting out the cold.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay, daddy.”

“You got an old man that was always bitching about that stuff?” he asks with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” I lie easily. As easily as I just called him daddy, somehow managing to always playfully make fun of his kink instead of remembering all the fucked up monsters who wanted me to use that word for them. “My dad always bitched about the air getting out. And the heat. Always letting the heat out.”