Was language more important than music?
The implant helps to understand the world better, sure, but it can’t help you listen to the notes of a piano, the strums of a guitar. It doesn’t let you understand all the frequencies and intricacies of a great song.
It would all be gone.
As I rub my face, the scruff of my beard scrapes against my palms. My eyes are closed and I dive into the sense of touch, focusing on the feel of my whiskers against my skin, and hear the beeps, squeaks and static of the hospital while blind.
Is this how it’s gonna be? Losing one sense, demanding more focus from the remaining ones, feeling less and less like a person the more the normal world revolves around you?
And—fuck, could I play deaf? If I completely lost my hearing, which hasn’t happened yet and won’t, goddammit, would I still grasp music? Am I gonna lose it either way?
God. Hell.
I want Taryn back.
“Holy fucking shit, East.”
Ash bursts into the room with Ben and Locke quickly following behind.
“What the hell happened?” Ash asks.
“I …” Now is the time to tell them the truth. I don’t know how much longer my hearing will hold out. “I collapsed from dehydration. Doc said I’ll be fine.”
“Well, thank fuck for that,” Ash says, visibly relieved.
“Is that all?” Locke asks skeptically. “Why are they keeping you overnight, then?”
“You talking to my doctor now, Dad?” I say to him.
“Nurse.” Locke corrects. “She couldn’t resist imparting information.”
“I’m sure Carter’ll appreciate that,” I say.
“Hey.” Locke points at me. “I did not flirt back. Can’t help it if a lady old enough to be my mother falls for my innocent, non-sexy smile and wants to tell me everything, including that she’s single.”
I shake my head, enjoying the moment of normalcy. Of listening. “I believe you. You’re too gross and happy with your fiancé and daughter to do anything to jeopardize it.”
“Hear that,” Ben says. He reaches out his scarred forearm from an old burn and pats my leg. “Glad you’re okay, dude. You need a good publicist? Gonna be hard to explain your damsel moment to the press.”
I chuckle and push his hand away. “Fuck off.”
“Dehydration, huh? You sure that’s it?” Ash asks.
He, out of all of them, seems the most serious and studies me more carefully than the others. I’m wishing he’d go back to bro-speak and not read me so closely.
“That’s it,” I say, and cap it off with a shrug.
“You’ve been off lately, bro,” Ash says. “First the bridge thing, then this. Not to mention how quiet you’ve been lately, and all the cancellations for our family events.”
“I guess both my mom and dad are here,” I say more tightly than intended. “My tour’s been insane. We’re pulled in a ton of directions. I’m sorry I missed your kid’s birthday, but—”
“I’m not trying to lecture you. Only trying to figure this shit out,” Ash says. Both tatted hands rest on his hips. “You have me worried, bro. And I don’t worry about nuthin’ but my girl and my baby.”
“I can’t help that you have an easier time interrogating a one year old than you do me,” I say, then immediately regret it. Fighting Ash only makes him more suspicious.
“Give me time,” Ash says. He won’t even blink as he stares me down.
Ben taps my IV bag, jostling me out of the stare-match. “Drink up, buddy. We’ll let you rest. Right, Ash?”
Ash unlocks his jaw. “Fine. But I’m not done with you yet.”
“Give it a rest.” Ben claps a hand on Ash’s shoulder, directing him to the door. “Sometimes, people enjoy their privacy.”
“And those people don’t have me in their life, sucks for them,” Ash retorts.
“Your band is waiting outside,” Locke says before he follows. “Again. Try not to make hospital stays such a habit.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Locke winks. “I’ve turned over a new leaf. So should you.”
“Tell Rex and everyone I’ll talk to them later.”
Locke pauses on the threshold. “You sure? They’re worried about you. And they were right there on stage—”
“I’m sure.” I make a show of yawning and rubbing my jaw. “I’m tanked, Locke. I’ll call them first thing.”
Locke shrugs. “All right, but …”
“Thanks.”
He gets the hint and leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Rex storming in here would be almost as bad as going blank in the middle of a concert.
Piercing sound to piercing silence in an instant. Going from hitting notes and riding the wave of music with my band to feeling the sticks in my hand, the hollow vibrations when they hit drumskin, yet gaining nothing. Nothing. No beats hitting my ears. My vision went into hyper-focus, and I was suddenly dropped into my own horror movie with neon sights and blurred hands reaching, thousands of black mouths opening into a maw of demand that I can’t understand.
The lights. The audience. Wyn dancing around to my right. Rex’s torso curving back as he screams out the chorus—
… that I can’t hear.
In throat-clenching panic, I tip over one of my symbols when trying to retain stability. Wyn stumbles back, his annoyance and confusion evident in his expression and probably his words, but I have no idea what he’s saying.
I search for Taryn before I comprehend what I’m doing, and there she is. Standing out from the crowd like a blonde, angelic beacon, calling me home, centering me.
She mouths, Easton?
And I’m crashing out of center, where I have no noise, no clue, and I’ve forgotten to breathe.
Shit. This whole time, I forgot to fuckin’ breathe.
So, I tip over with another symbol.
I blink myself out of the memory, not ready to fall into it again, and if Rex gets into my hospital room, that’s exactly where I’ll go. It’s tough to keep lying to him, but the alternative is unthinkable.
He’ll replace me with that back-up drummer he hired. A malnourished, early-twenties asshole I could topple over with a drumstick who’s waiting in the wings for me to falter and fail.
I almost did tonight.
There’s no telling how much time I have left. And no point to reconsider the pros and cons of a cochlear implant.
We’re just reaching the pinnacle of success. I can’t be shut down now.
22
Taryn
My heart hit my stomach on the way home.
It wasn’t from Easton’s revelation, though that weighed heavily on my mind. It was because of a text from Harper. An innocuous notification at first. I thought it might be about Jamie and getting him to bed, or maybe she was wondering if she could use my GrubHub account to order a midnight snack.
It was none of those things.
I was so immersed in the new knowledge of Easton and that maybe I overreacted. I wasn’t thinking, or understanding, that my home situation was vastly approaching dangerous.
Harper: T, some strange man is here. He’s demanding to see J. I don’t know what to do and he’s scaring me.
Oh, God.
My fault. It’s all my fault. I didn’t answer his texts and now he’s figured out where I live and is using brute force to see Jamie.
I lean forward in the backseat, the seatbelt tightening against my neck. “Driver? Can you move faster, please?”
“Doin’ all I can, doll. FDR’s backed up.”
I flatten against the leather seat, shoulder blades pressing deep as I read the text again and decide how to respond.
Call the police.
Gripping my cell phone, I envision all the scenarios I could’ve created to prevent this moment. I could’ve been honest with my peers, for one, and asked Astor for assistance in drafting a scary, official, fuck off letter that my ex’s lawyers could read. Or, I could’ve sent a simple text
reply, telling him to never contact me again, our agreement is in full force, and if he wanted it changed, he had to take it to court, not to me.
I did none of those things.
Not because I’m an idiot. No, it’s because I know deep down, the instant I give him what he wants—a response—he’d manipulate and twist and make it so I’m trapped again, suffocating with no way out, and that’s what he’s good at. The only way to deal with him is to not respond, because then, the venomous snake won’t catch the field mouse.
I’m not a mouse. Not anymore.
I check my phone again, noting the trembling in my fingers and demanding they stop. Harper’s written back.
It’s all good now. He left.
Me: What did he say? Did he do anything? Get in the house?
Did he take Jamie? I want to also ask, but I control the urge. Better to wait to find out what actually happened first, before I tear through the roof of this car.
Harper: He was mean and obnoxious. Said he had every right to see HIS SON. But I held firm. Didn’t let him in. Said to contact J’s mom if he wanted entry. T, you have so much to tell me when you get home.
At last, the traffic breaks enough for the car to accelerate, and my car pulls up to my home within fifteen minutes of Harper’s last text. During that time, I went through all the versions of what I could say to her and how to explain Jamie’s father, but I come up empty.
How do you explain a monster to someone who’s never seen one?
When stepping out into the vehicle and onto the curb, I’m still hyper focused on my phone, not looking where I’m going, and when I stumble and someone catches me, I don’t think anything of it except that I’m a klutz—at first.
“Careful, Teddy.”
The low, throaty growl travels up my spin and leaves a spider’s trail well before I find my balance.
My reaction is visceral. I throw off his grip and spit, “Let go of me.”
Bryan O’Neil is unfazed. He stands there in the glow of a New York night, collared shirt unbuttoned at the nape, pressed slacks unwrinkled, new crow’s feet under his pale green eyes, his tanned face grim under a mop of thick, graying brown hair. Tousled in just the way Jamie’s does.
“Been a long time,” he says in his relaxed pose. Seeing my reaction, the corners of his mouth pull up. He tucks his hands in his pockets. “I’m not out here to hurt you, Teddy.”
I manage to find my voice through the raw rush of adrenaline. “You shouldn’t be out here at all.”
He shrugs. “You didn’t answer my texts. I had to come here, make sure you were safe. That my child was cared for.”
My upper lip curls. “You’re a fucking liar.”
“Such bite. Did you find some fangs while I was away?”
“You weren’t away. I left you. We had an agreement, and last time you signed your name, you wanted nothing to do with us. So why are you here? What do you want?”
“If you’d texted, I would’ve given you answers. Instead, here we are, confrontational as always.” Bryan shifts his weight, utterly calm, but I know a coil before a strike when I see one. I take a few steps back.
“Six years, Bryan. Six goddamned years. You gave up any rights you had long ago.”
“You have a tiny Chihuahua of a person guarding your home.” He lowers his chin. “I could’ve broken through her and gotten to my son. You know that. What did you tell her? Oh, yes.” He smiles. “Call the police.”
I swallow. Blink rapidly. I wish Harper had called the police. “Get out of here, Bryan.” I hold up my phone. “Or else I will call—”
His arm darts out in a blur, catching me before I can spin away. I yelp when he pulls me against him by twisting my wrist and holding my arm against his chest.
Bryan bares his teeth, pure and white and varnished. “I want my son, Teddy.”
I force my eyes to his. “You’re not getting anywhere near him.”
His eyes go dark, and I’m propelled into the past, cornered in a kitchen, with nothing but a rubber whisk to protect myself. His grip tightens. “You’ve had your fun, your pretense of independence, getting a degree, being a smart pussy in a man’s world. All of which you couldn’t have done without my help. My money. But time’s up, Teddy. Your cunt is mine. It’s always been mine. And if it weren’t for me, it wouldn’t have housed that boy up there, so you have a lot of thanking to do.” He leans closer, his breath hot on my cheeks. “Some apologizing to do, too. And I’ll let you do it. On your knees. Starting on the plane ride home.”
With hitched breaths, I say, “Your control over me is long erased. I got my degree. I raised my son. And I’m going to knee your balls into your throat.”
The split second before my words hit his brain is when I pounce, my knee driving hard where I promised. On a grunt, his grip loosens on my wrist and he stumbles back. I launch into my courtyard, the iron gate ringing behind me as I slam it shut, and sprint to the front door.
Harper’s already there, the screeching of the iron gate alerting her, and she throws the door open and ushers me in before locking all the deadbolts.
“This isn’t over!”
Bryan’s roar, though muffled by the brick of the building, is no less weakened with its meaning.
“Big mistake, Teddy.” The wood of the door shakes on its hinges as he punches it. His eyes rage behind the glass. “Big, big fucking mistake.”
“I’m calling the police now,” Harper says in a rushed voice. She pulls out her phone as we shake in the hallway. “He’s not—”
Bryan disappears. Part of me thinks he’s trying to find an open window. But, a car’s engine roars to life, and the thin, vertical windows bordering the front door glint with red as Bryan reverses, then throttles down the road.
“He left,” I say on a breath. “He’s gone.”
“T? What the hell is going on—”
But I’m grappling with the lock to my apartment door and stumbling in, blindly making my way down our short hallway to Jamie’s room.
Please be okay. Please be okay—
Opening the door, I find him outlined in the soft glow of his window, curled up on his side, asleep and hugging a teddy bear he swears he’s outgrown and no longer wants.
With the swell of relief comes an instant buckling, and I’m falling against the doorframe until Harper catches me and I turn into her, sobbing.
“T? Taryn? Oh, Jesus.” Harper’s arms come around and she ushers me out of Jamie’s view, shutting his door and guiding me to the couch.
“I’m sorry,” I say into my hands once I’m seated. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”
The couch dips as Harper sits beside me, rubbing my back. “In the half-decade I’ve known you, nothing like that has ever happened, so don’t apologize for it. Life smacks you in the face sometimes.”
I shake my head, still covering my face. “I should’ve expected this. I don’t know why I thought he’d actually never want to see us again.”
Harper says softly, “Maybe because you went half a decade without seeing his sorry ass.”
After a big inhale, I lower my hands. “I have to figure out what to do next. Before he does.”
“Hang on.” Harper shifts so she’s facing me. “Back up a little. It’s been a big night, and I’m kinda lost on the details. If you would be so kind as to …?”
“That was Jamie’s father,” I say.
Harper nods grimly. “Caught that much. I know a deadbeat dad when I see one.”
“He’s a deadbeat in the sense that he’s a jerk. But officially … to the public eye, he’s rich, good-looking, powerful, decent. A politician.”
“Ah.” Harper’s expression clears. “It all makes sense now.”
I spin in my seat, gripping Harper’s arms. “That’s it. That’s why he’s here.”
“Because he wants your vote?” Harper’s mouth screws up. “Sorry. Bad joke. I get awkward in tense situations … “
“Because he’s running for something,” I s
urmise. While I’m talking to Harper, I’m not actually talking to her. My mind’s cranking away. “We lived in Massachusetts for a while, when I was at Harvard. But, while he worked in finance, he always wanted to move back to Ohio. Run for office. When I refused him—I mean, when I left him, that was his goal. He went back to Cleveland, and I decided to stay in Massachusetts with Jamie and put myself through law school. God, maybe Bryan’s finally going for higher office, like the Senate. And he wants a complete family unit in order to do it. Nobody likes a broken family, or, more likely, Bryan doesn’t like the public’s horror of the idea that he’s ignored a ‘special needs’ son for years. Bryan has to clean up his mess before he ever has a shot at the White House.”
“Dear God, that man wants to be President?”
I physically feel my face lose all its color as I regard Harper. “He’s arrogant and impulsive, underneath his clean-cut demeanor. Going through with the separation six years ago made sense to him. I was young, annoying in that I wanted to go to law school and not stay home, and with a demanding child that couldn’t just go to preschool and be ignored for most of the day. Jamie and I … we were hurting his reputation. Now, though—oh, now, he needs us.”
“You don’t need him.”
I clench and unclench my jaw. “Never again. He’s arrogant, impulsive, and mean.”
“Taryn …” Harper finds my hand on my thigh and covers it with hers. “Did he hurt you? I mean, physically hurt you? Or Jamie?”
I squeeze her hand, then let go and rise. “I’m a very private person. I’m starting to understand that it may be my weakness. I’m going to need help to keep him away. Hardcore, heavy-hitting help.”
“That scary woman who works with you is a good bet.”
“Astor.” I nod. “Yes. Maybe I’ll bring her in. Bryan’s here now. There’s no more ignoring him, pretending to exist without him.”
“And don’t forget me. I’m small, but I’m spritely. Jamie’s safe with me, T. I promise.”
For the first time tonight, a genuine smile crosses my face. “I believe you, Harper. But I’m going to call Jamie’s school first thing tomorrow morning. Make sure they release him to no one but you or me.”
Playing You: Players to Lovers, Book 4 Page 14
