Page 3 of Unspeakable

“Everything okay?”

I nodded and forced a smile.

Nervous,I signed. A lie really. It wasn’t really nerves tearing at me.

“We could meet here, if you want, at Ferrazzi Brewing.” He made a face. “The food’s pretty good. But, I mean, I’d rather not have us under the watchful eye of most of my family—trust me when I say, half of them probably already know I chased away that guy and I’m sitting at your table, thanks to the Ferrazzi rumor mill. If you feel more comfortable here…”

I placed my hand over his arm to interrupt him again, then signed,It’s okay.We can go someplace else.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing slightly, as he tried to work out what I’d said. Reaching for my paper that was still in front of him, I wrote out the message.

“Clearly, I’ll need to brush up on things. I guess if you don’t use it, you really do lose it,” he said, and I blushed as I thought of something else that could go unused. He looked like he had the opportunity to use thoseskillsoften, too.

“Do you live far from here?” he asked, thankfully unaware of where my thoughts had digressed to.

I shook my head. I lived in a loft apartment ten minutes away—which wasn’t what people thought of when they heard “loft”. It was actually a two bedroom with an upstairs space that overlooked the living area and kitchen below. I used it as my office.

“Can I pick you up?” he asked.

I hesitated, for only the breadth of a second. I knew his name, who his family was and where he worked. And my gut said to trust him. After all, he’d swept in like my knight in shining armor to chase away the other guy, hadn’t he?

I nodded then signedyes.

What was the worst that could happen? I’d already lived through the worst. Everything else dulled in comparison.

Three

Sparrow

Times like this, I longed to be able to talk to my mother. But I couldn’t. Not because I didn’t speak, but because she and my father were long gone. Buried.

And that was the reason I didn’t speak. Didn’t not couldn’t.

Though it wasn’t by choice. Such as right that moment, while I was getting ready for Hudson to come get me for our date, I could have had a whole out loud conversation with myself in the mirror. But with anyone standing there, I froze up. I couldn’t force intelligible sounds past my throat if I tried with all my might.

My therapist said it was a psychological block from the trauma of my parents’ murder.

Go figure. I knew that.

But she was trying to work with me to get past it. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d started seeing someone when I was twelve, rather than everyone throwing up their hands in frustration with me. Maybe, if I’d had therapy instead of eight years of martial arts, I’d be speaking now.

Past was the past though, even if I still saw him in my dreams and every dark shadow. Even if I had to check my apartment nooks and crannies before I felt safe. Even though I hardly ever slept more than a few hours at a time.

I’d lived with fear for so long, I didn’t even know how it would feel to be safe. Ten years ago, safety had been stripped away from me. I’d been so hysterical, so unable to speak past the trauma, I’d been unable to offer any leads to the police when they’d come. Maybe, I’d fallen through the cracks or maybe my aunt and uncle hadn’t allowed the police to speak to me, but no one had sat with me later when I’d healed a little. No one had asked for a description of the man.

Hoping to heal, hoping to erase my fear by getting my parents’ murderer locked up, I’d contacted the police last week, hoping that in memories that haunted me would finally be expunged so I could live without the terror of falling prey to the man who’d come for me.

I sometimes wondered if the fear were erased, if I’d become a daredevil or something, just to replace the feeling that clenched my chest on the regular.

But Hudson Ferrazzi wasn’t part of that fear. He wasn’t a danger. Not even really knowing him, I’d felt the safety emanating from him. He was untarnished, untouched by the dark of the world’s underbelly, idealistic and yeah, safe.

Of course, few people were like me. Few people knew what it was like to hide in a cabinet and see the people you love mown down while you struggled not to make a sound, knowing you might be next.

And so, I still didn’t make a sound when someone could hear.

It was like something had broken inside me ten years ago.

I wanted so much to be normal.

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