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“It was meant to help her see past what I couldn’t offer.”
“And what’s that. Because from where I’m sitting—”
“In an echo chamber corridor with a draft that smells like chalk and old socks.”
She elbowed him. “You’re pretty damn special.”
“I’m disabled.”
“When exactly did you start thinking about yourself like that?”
He turned his head and stuck his nose in her hair. Taylor had started smoking again. Right after her story came out. He breathed and coughed. “Quit the fags, Trill. You don’t want to screw up your throat.”
“Answer the question.”
“Somewhere between going totally blind and losing my voice.”
“Fuck. But you know it’ll be all right, not the same I know, but you’re not incapable, you’ll adjust, you always bent the world around you, you’ll…shit.”
He could tell her. He ached to tell someone other than his parents, but if he told her she’d make it hard for him to do it his way. The verdict was well and truly in. His days as The Voice were over. He wasn’t getting more of his vocal abilities back, he was losing more everyday and the new round of surgery was an exercise in crossed fingers. They hoped to save his larynx, but he’d been told to plan on needing an artificial speech aid. It might’ve been worse. He’d get to keep his tongue.
He shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t put Georgia through this, couldn’t put her in the position of not being able to choose to walk away for fear of his condition. He’d have the surgery and go home to the farm where he wouldn’t need a voice or to continue to disrupt the lives of his friends. He’d come back when Georgia had moved on and he had a handle on what to make of a life without sight and sound. “I need to get out of here.”
“I’ll make you a deal.”
He sighed. He knew when she arrived he wasn’t leaving alone without a fight. “Yes, you can put me in a cab. No, I’m not coming home yet. No, you can’t come with me.”
“I’ll talk to Jamie if you talk to Georgia.”
He dropped his chin to his chest as Taylor’s words hit. “It’s not. It won’t. Christ.”
“Yeah. And don’t bother thinking evil thoughts about me.
I’ve already had every freaked out black night, Satan worshipping, dungeon master, whip wielding, dead headed thought there is. I fucked it up. Just like you’re going to unless you talk to her. You have to tell her what’s going on with you, give her a choice.”
Every word he had left was measured out. He didn’t want to spend them engaging people’s pity or helping them deal with his issues. He needed Georgia to walk away with her head up because he was an arsehole, not because he was incapable of being the man she’d fallen in love with anymore. Not because she couldn’t deal. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can, once you work out how not to be a coward, and that’s coming from someone who’s been a coward about her feelings for way too long.”
This cowardice felt like sacrifice, so much sacrifice. “Are we really in a fire exit?” More than anything he wanted out of this conversation.
“We’re really in a fire exit and quit pretending you’re not on fire.”
But there weren’t enough words to express how much he wanted Taylor and Jamie to work through their pain. “You’ll talk to Jamie, tell him what you feel.”
She nodded, rubbing her check against his shirt. “I have been punishing him and Angus. I’ll fix it or die trying.” She pulled away. “What are you going to do?”
“You think I’m a coward?”
“Yep. Man up, Dame.”
“Georgia has unfinished business with her ex-husband.”
“You’re looking for an excuse to be a dick? Georgia loves you. Give her the space to work it out, but don’t push her away because you’re scared.”
He reached out and cuffed the back of Taylor’s neck, unbalancing her and dragging her into his side, folding around her.
He was a dick. He was a coward. He was wordless and terrified.
