Interspersed between Del’s texts were texts from Micah and Jamie, both trying to save him from his sister’s wrath. God save your mortal soul, because no one else can at this point, the last text from Jamie read.
Beside him, Carys laughed, the sound somewhat incredulous. “Your sister got mine and Benny’s phone numbers somehow, and she’s texting up a storm to both of us about lunch.”
Niko rolled his eyes. He tapped a quick text into his phone and sent it to her.
Sorry about Del. She probably threatened Jamie and Micah to get it.
They looked at each other over their phones, and Carys’s eyes danced with amusement. “So, lunch?”
Before Niko could answer, his stomach rumbled. Loudly. He grinned, and Carys giggled. She kissed him once more and sighed. “Lunch.”
Sometimes Niko didn’t understand how he and Del came from the same family. His big sister hadn’t gotten the memo about what constituted her business versus other people’s business.
She was talking to Carys, which never boded well for him in the first place. Niko sat with them at the table, holding a sleeping Luca in his arms, and mostly watched his little brother with Bennett and Jamie in the living room. Micah and Bennett’s interactions had been strained since the attack. That was, Niko thought, half the reason why Del threw this lunch together. She was never going to get over playing mother hen to her younger siblings.
But Momma Del had turned her attention on Carys. “So, is it just me, or is there some tension between you and your brother?”
Niko looked over at her, trying to give her the evil eye, but she was looking at Carys. He glared harder, but she didn’t turn. He had the feeling she was ignoring him on purpose.
“Ah.” Carys shrugged. “We had a pretty big fight yesterday.”
“What about?” Del asked.
Niko smacked his hand on the table, trying to get her attention. She was definitely ignoring him. Carys glanced at him, flashed a reassuring smile—Carys “No Secrets” Harper, right?—and looked back to Del. “Oh, a lot of things.” She sighed. “A lot of things we should’ve talked about a long time ago, I guess.”
Despite himself, Niko was interested. He couldn’t help but be curious about what had gone down between Carys and her brother. He’d never ask, but as long as she was telling, he couldn’t help but listen, right?
“My dad never knew what to do with us after our mom died. He didn’t deal with her death well, and he was never a natural caretaker for me, let alone my special needs little brother, so it was always, ‘Carys, take care of the baby. Take care of the baby. You’re supposed to look out for your little brother. That’s your job.’”
Carys’s expression was far away and wistful. “Not a lot of people understand the Deaf, you know? The impulse of a lot of adults—our dad and a lot of the professionals in Benny’s life—is to make him more normal, more like us. What they never understood was he can never be like us. He needed to be like him, and he needed a community to embrace that. I was his community for a long time. It was us versus them, and that was how I grew up.”
She smiled a small, sad smile. “It was how Benny grew up, too, so I don’t think he ever questioned it. I was supposed to be the one there for him no matter what. That’s just what he was used to. He didn’t realize what that meant for my life.” She glanced over at Niko. “He didn’t realize it until Niko said it out loud, so to speak.”
Del’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Niko said something?”
Niko grimaced. If not for the heavy baby in his arms, he might’ve gotten up to stop Carys from telling his sister—
“He memorized a speech,” Carys said, grinning. “He told Benny off for not letting me live my own life.” Her smile turned more tender. “It was very sweet.”
“Sweet?” Del jerked a thumb at Niko. “That guy? Are you sure? Are you sure it wasn’t Jamie? They’d pull that shit. Jamie would go in, do the right thing, and give this asshole all the credit.”
Offended, Niko thumped his chest with his free hand and then flipped his hand out wide in the distinctly Italian “hey!” gesture. He jutted his chin out.
“Oh, no. It was him. Benny likes Jamie. It kills him that Niko was right,” Carys said with a laugh, but then her smile fell. “He didn’t realize how much it cost me to turn down that job in France. I think he feels awful about it now that he knows. He said not to give up another job for him, to take it next time.”
“Hmm,” Del said, still looking over at Niko. “You should call them.”
Carys quirked an eyebrow. “Them who?”
“The museum. Whoever offered you the job. You should call them.”
“And tell them what?”
“Tell them your, uh, situation has been resolved, that you had looked forward to working with them, and you hope they’ll keep you in mind for future jobs.”
Now it was Niko who arched an eyebrow. For once, he agreed with his sister. “Yes,” he signed. “Can’t h-u-r-t.”
“Hurt,” Carys said, doing the sign. “Like taking two knives, stabbing them in your side, and twisting.”
Niko looked down at Luca and back up. How the hell was he supposed to sign anything that took both hands? He used his free hand to do one half the sign, and she nodded approvingly.
Watching them, Del huffed and then laughed. “I was just thinking how funny it would be if you two had kids and Niko couldn’t yell at them.”
Niko glared at his sister, but Del put on an innocent expression. “What?” She looked over to Carys. “Hey, you think you can teach me some of those signs?”
“Yeah?” Carys asked, looking pleased.
“Yeah.” She reached over and ruffled Niko’s hair, grinning at him when he pulled away. “Can’t have my baby brother talking behind my back and me not know what the hell he’s saying. It looks like he’s going to get there sooner than later.”
Narrowing his eyes at Del, Niko made a very deliberate sign, his face a mask of irritation. Carys covered her mouth to muffle her laughter.
Del frowned. “What? What’d he call me? How horrible was it?”
“He called you a sweet sister.”
Niko smiled at Del, mirroring the innocent expression she’d flashed just a minute before.
A couple of weeks later, the work Niko and Jamie set out to do was finished. They stood at the head of the driveway, looking at the house and their work, covered in a sheen of sweat from the early October heat. Jamie slung an arm around Niko’s shoulders and nodded. “We done good, kiddo.”
It was a whole new house, at least from the outside. The inside could use some work still, but that was another kettle of fish. Seeing as it was his girlfriend’s house, maybe Niko would have a chance to get around to it. His honey-do projects could be lined up for another year or two.
“What are you smiling about?” Jamie asked, nudging him.
Niko shrugged. “W-e-i-r-d,” he signed, spelling slowly for Jamie’s sake.
“Yeah.” Jamie looked back at the house. “I forget sometimes we grew up here, you know? But it was surreal, too. I’ve been spending weekends and time after work here for the past six months, just like old times, except we were rebuilding instead of destroying shit.”
Niko smirked and nodded his agreement. They’d grown up here together in a different life.
His old room was still his favorite, he mused, filled now with music and Carys, and he’d finally fulfilled his childhood dream of having sex on the floor. They’d almost destroyed one of her favorite violins in the process. He never could’ve predicted that in his childhood.
“What now?” he signed, and Jamie knew those two words well enough.
His friend grinned. “I get to go back to my own life. Christ, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been out on a proper date?”
Niko made a face in lieu of razzing him about his semi-attraction to Bennett. Niko still didn’t see the appeal.
Jamie clapped him on the back. “Nothing changes for you, though.
Less manual labor, more manual labor.” He waggled his eyebrows and made a crude gesture with his fingers.
Niko lunged at him, catching him in a headlock. Jamie wrapped his hands around his ankle and yanked, spilling both of them to the ground.
“Children!” Carys shouted from the porch, her hands on her hips. “Get inside before the neighbors call the cops on you. Jesus, you know you’re both over thirty, right? Not actually thirteen. And you can bet your butts that you can doctor your own scrapes. I hope it stings, too.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Jamie said, and Niko winked as they picked themselves up and went to go join her. Niko scooped up Maestro from where he sat grooming himself, settled the cat on his shoulder, kissed Carys, and followed Jamie inside.
It had been a weird week for Niko.
Without work on the house, he was back to the old question of what he was supposed to do with the rest of his life. The construction idea could work, but he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was what he wanted. Any way he sliced the cake, finding work when he couldn’t talk for himself was a pain in the ass. He was frustrated, as he had been since he found himself in this mess, but it wasn’t as bad as before.
That was how he found himself remembering the social worker who’d come to talk to him while he was still in the hospital after his botched surgery. There were resources, she’d said. A lot of freelance work didn’t require the ability to speak. They did, however, require some kind of skill like medical transcribing or web design, none of which he had.
He could always get one of those skills, but how much communication would that take? He’d slept through a lot of his college classes, but he seemed to remember having to talk every now and again.
But that night, Niko wasn’t trying to think about going back to school or talking with specialists and other people who might be able to help him. That night was about Carys.
He’d spent most of the day putting together a truly epic Italian meal. Everything was done by hand, even the ravioli shells and the tomato sauce. There was wine, salad, and soup, and there were candles on the table.
Carys was going to eat it up, or so he hoped. She dug the cheesy stuff, and she’d had a rough week. He hadn’t seen enough of her pretty smile in that time.
She knocked on the door just as he’d slathered the fresh bread with butter, garlic, and seasoning. He shoved the tray in the oven and went to let her in.
Her eyes were wide when he opened the door. “I could smell the garlic and deliciousness as soon as I got out of the car. What did you do?”
He lopped an arm around her waist and pulled her over the threshold. Rather than answer, he tilted his head down and kissed her. She made a contented noise as she melted against him, kissing him back.
“Mmm,” she said, pulling back to run the tip of her nose from his chin down to his neck. “You smell good, too.” She nipped at the skin of his neck, and he shivered as she licked him. “Maybe I’ll eat you for dinner.”
Niko pulled back and out of her reach. “Dessert.” He winked and took her hand, pulling her with him into the apartment.
Carys whistled. “How romantic,” she said, squeezing his fingers.
He kissed her once, a sweeter kiss this time, and pulled a chair out for her. Once she was seated, he hurried off to the kitchen to rescue the bread before it burned. He brought out the plates and poured the wine.
“So, did you get Del to make this for you?” Carys asked as they dug in.
Niko fixed her with a dark look, stood, and tried to take her plate away. Carys leapt up and grabbed it from him. “No, no. I’m kidding. Give it back. You’re good. You’re all that’s chefly and manly in the world.”
He eyed her but set her plate back down on the table. She got back to eating, making appreciative little noises that distracted the hell out of him. If she was going to keep doing that, they weren’t going to make it through dinner.
“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Carys said, staring down at her food as if it were a plate of gold.
“I-t-a-l-i-a-n.” Niko pointed to himself.
“Italian,” Carys said and made a complicated sign using the ASL letter “I.”
Niko frowned. “Again.”
“Italian,” she said, signing again. “I think it’s like doing the sign of the cross on your face except more fluid. Aren’t you Italians supposed to be Catholic?”
Niko smirked at the idea. “Mom is C-a-t-h-o-l-i-c. Me? Just Italian.”
“That’s good.” She picked up her fork again and cleared her throat. “So, have you ever been to Italy?”
Niko shook his head.
“You want to go?”
He raised his eyebrows. He’d been thinking about suggesting a weekend in Big Bear or maybe Vegas. Here Carys was thinking international. “A trip with me?”
Her glance was furtive, almost nervous. “Not a trip.” She took a long drink of her wine. “To live. For six to nine months.”
He stared at her. “What?”
“The museum called me. They have another job. It starts in a month in Milan.” She scoffed. “The first part of the job is repairing an organ in a cathedral. If you’re not afraid of bursting into flames upon entry, I think it could be great.”
It was a crazy idea, wasn’t it?
But Carys was already rambling on. “I could help you find someone to sublet this place so you wouldn’t have to worry about money at all, and our rent and utilities there would be paid. And you’ve already proved you’d be a good housewife,” she teased, indicating the spread of food on the table.
His lips turned up at the corners. “No work me?” He didn’t know if he liked the idea of that.
“There are distance classes, depending on what you want to learn, and training for all sorts of things is available online. And you’ve been doing so well with signing. I can keep helping you learn, so by the time we come back, you wouldn’t have to worry about talking.
“I know it’s quick, and it’s technically moving in together, but does that really count when it’s a foreign country?”
He and Carys alone in Italy. No Bennet. No Del and Micah. It had merit.
“Say yes,” she said, looking at him with big, pleading eyes.
It was crazy. Then again, what was the alternative? If he said no, that meant not only would Bennett be without her for half a year but he would, too.
Hell with that.
“Yes.” He’d been out of work this long, a few more months wouldn’t hurt him, especially if he used the time wisely.
And there was that gorgeous smile he’d been missing all week. Her whole face lit up, and she gave a squeak of pleasure as she stood and went to him. He scooted back just in time for her to sit down on his lap, her arms around his neck. She kissed him—happy, fervent kisses she dropped all over his face.
“You make me happy,” she said, cupping his face in her hands.
“Back at you, beautiful.”
After dinner, Niko led Carys to his bedroom, but he didn’t lay her down. No, there was time for that. He patted the center of the bed, urging her to sit. She sat cross-legged, watching as he took up his guitar, a birthday gift from her, from where it sat across the room. It was acoustic. She said he still had to earn an electric.
Well, acoustic was better for his purposes tonight, anyway. He sat across from her, with just a little distance between them, and started to play the song he’d been practicing.
It was a ballad and familiar to him. He’d sung it before, and that was a source of great frustration for him.
Before, he’d sung this song because he wanted to please a woman, but he hadn’t meant it, not the way he did now. Now, it was more important. He meant it in a way he never had before.
And he couldn’t sing the words, couldn’t put all of his voice into every line.
He let his fingers try to say what his voice couldn’t, because he knew she would like it but also because he meant it. People like Carys were the reason love songs existed. He mouthed
the words, watching as her eyes began to shine with unshed tears.
As the last note vibrated between them, she put her hands over his on the guitar. “I never needed you to say it, you know,” she said softly. “I could always hear what you didn’t say.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “I love you, too, Nikolai.”
I have the most magnificent book-support system known to man. These beautiful women tell me what I need to hear even when I don’t want to hear it. Chickadees, I will never be able to give you enough praise. Thank you for your time and for yourselves. Betsy, Eleanor, Jess, Julie, Mina, and Packy Pie. Your words help my words. Hell, your words inspire my words frequently.
Plus, Mina. Whoa. That cover, babe. Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.
A special thanks to Krystal. She was so patient with all my questions about Deaf culture. I try to be respectful of the real-life cultures and people I represent in my books, and she helped keep me on track.
To Femme, Shannon, and Tamara, without whose encouragement I'm sure I never would’ve finished this book.
To Iris for the hand holding when I needed it most. And for letting me freak out a bit. And for her kindness. And for her editing.
To Belynda and Judith.
To Michelle, Victoria, and Alanna.
And to Ani DiFranco for the inspiration and silence in the spaces between notes.
Kristina Sanchez is a lifelong insomniac whose creative career began when she used to make up stories about Bugs Bunny in her head while the rest of the house slept. She’s a Southern California native who can frequently be found at Disneyland because it’s easier to park there than go to the beach, sadly. Although writing is her first passion and only love, she finds fulfillment working in social services with the county of Orange. Currently, Kristina is the mother of a grumpy old man-cat named Mutt and a strange flight risk named Sirus Blackcat, who is, indeed, a black cat.
Spaces Between Notes Page 23
