Page 39

‘Join?’ Tyler asks, using one finger instead of two, which makes me snort.

He smiles good-naturedly as I step up next to them. I see them talking, their mouths moving, and none of them attempt to sign. Normally I’d feel left out, but right now I just want to exist around others, to feel my muscles burn and ache as I lift.

Maybe it will make some of this brain fog I’ve been living with dissipate.

I grunt, the vibration deep in my throat as I get started. I should have warmed up first, but I can’t be fucked. I feel like my heart has been racing for days. I feel like every morning I’ve run a marathon.

I grunt louder, turning the head of Brody, who asks, ‘Ok?’

I give him a clipped nod, keeping my gaze on the mirror and the movements my arms are making. I could hurt myself, but I don’t really care. At the very least, physical pain would distract me from all this internal shit I’ve been dealing with.

And it’s not just Eissa, though he’s a huge part of it. It’s also watching the people I love suffer and being unable to do anything about it. Just like I can’t help being Deaf and struggling when opportunities slip through my fingers, Dante can’t help his chronic illness.

The pain he’s in motivates him to create accessible toys and tools so everyone can enjoy sex however they want, but people like him are always an afterthought. And that afterthought is threatening to kill his business. We’ve had one email from an anonymous financier, but I haven’t heard back after letting them know we’re interested.

It’s starting to feel bleak, and I can tell it’s weighing on my brother.

It makes me sick to my stomach because Dante deserves better. He deserves the world. He’s not like me—unfocused, unmotivated, and too quick to overreact before thinking.

I haven’t told him I’m worried, though. He’s so busy trying to help Cielo heal and manage his pain, all while trying to act like everything’s fine. And it’s something I hate. I’m not sure if he realizes just how much I see because of how many people don’t, but the last time I tried to sit and talk to him about it, he shut me out.

He told me it was fine.

He lied to my face, and that hurt more than anything.

So, for now, I let him have this fantasy, but I’m going to do everything in my power to fix this for him.

I just…don’t know how. Especially when I can’t fix myself. Especially when, every time I close my eyes, I feel Eissa in my head watching, wanting…

And denying everything.

Fuck. My muscles give a violent jolt, and I almost lose my grip on the weights. I see Tyler’s mouth open, probably crying out. He lunges, catching the weights before they tumble from my hands and crush my feet, and I stumble back a few steps.

Setting them down, Tyler quickly grabs a towel and turns my wrist over. Fuck, the tender surface skin on my palms is shredded. I’m not bleeding, but it does sting.

Tyler frowns up at me and licks his lips before slinging the towel over his shoulder and then making a Y shape with his hand and tapping his chin. ‘What’s wrong?’ he mouths with the sign.

Tyler has the most basic ASL vocabulary. He signed up for the first-level ASL class at the university after he got sick and tired of texting with me during sessions, but he’s only two-thirds of the way there, which means he communicates like a nine-month-old baby—but it’s something.

I take a breath and nod, then glance down to pick at a few flecks of torn skin. I hate hurting my hands more than anything. I need them. ‘I’m fine.’

Tyler does not look convinced. ‘Tell me.’ His finger thumps on his chest, and I sigh.

I would actually love to tell him. I’d love to lift my hands and emotionally dump all my problems on him, but it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t understand any of it, and I’m not breaking out my voice for this.

I doubt he’d make fun of my weird, Ukrainian-influenced Deaf accent the way kids at school did. He’d understand I speak the way I was taught by my SLPs. But I don’t want to keep bending for other people.

Eventually I’m going to break.

I take another breath, then sign, ‘I’m fine. Trust.’

He bites his lip, then lifts his hands, but I immediately miss what he’s trying to say. There’s a weird sensation in my head that takes over all my senses, and when I blink, I’m suddenly standing in front of Quilliyn.

He’s speaking in what I can only assume is Eretharian, and I can’t understand it, except…

Strangely, I can?

I’ve been able to hear music a few times in my life. When I bother with hearing aids, I can pick up some melodies so long as the music is loud enough and the notes are in the exact right range that I can process them.