Page 26 of Kiss-Fist (Deaf Hearts #1)

It has to, because I have never felt like this before, and I’m not ready to give up on what this could be. I will eat as much crow as my friends want to serve me about falling for a hearing guy so long as he and I can talk first.

And my heart kicks up a notch because calling an interpreter during an intimate moment like this kind of sucks—there’s no other word for it—but it means I’ll get to communicate with him fully for the first time since we met.

By the time Thom comes out, I’ve got my laptop set up on my rolling standing desk. I have it lowered toward the bed because every muscle in my body is aching right now, and I just want to collapse against the pillows.

I don’t. But it’s a near thing.

Thom looks a little better now. His cheeks are less splotchy, and his hair is more ordered than the windswept mess the storm had created. He still looks a little unsure, and that only grows when he sees the laptop screen.

‘It’s okay,’ I assure him.

He points at the laptop. ‘What is that?’

‘I’m going to call an interpreter.’

I know he knows that sign. It’s one of the first vocabulary words Denver introduces to his class since there are so many on campus.

Thom blinks at me, then bites his lip. ‘For me?’

‘For us,’ I clarify. I pat the space beside me and sigh, cradling his face between my hands the moment he sits.

His cheeks are still cold, so I lean in and press my lips to the right side and just hold him for a moment.

God, I needed this. Pulling back, I roll my shoulders, then say, ‘We need to talk. ’

His eyes widen. ‘That’s bad.’

I shake my head, fighting off a small laugh. ‘Good talk. I promise. True-biz,’ I add, not sure if he knows that one yet.

He smiles, so I’m guessing he does. ‘Okay. Not dirty talk, right?’ He spells dirty talk, and it says something about what he’s been practicing that he doesn’t mess up any of those letters.

I roll my eyes. ‘Not now.’ I lean in and steal another quick kiss, lingering for a beat when I feel his moan, then force myself to lean back, log in, and start the request. It doesn’t take long for it to connect, being that it’s a weekday and it’s getting late.

The interpreter who takes my call is a woman with olive skin, a young face, and grey streaks in her dark hair. She’s got wide, brown eyes, and a friendly smile, and she’s in her standard black, long-sleeved shirt to make it easier to see her hands on the screen.

‘Hello, my name is Carol,’ she signs her employee number but I don’t pay attention. ‘How can I help you this evening?’ She has a slight East Coast accent to her signs, but I’m used to the geographical differences.

‘I’m Robbie,’ I spell, then give her my name sign.

‘This is Thom. My—’ I don’t know what to call him.

Shit. ‘Friend.’ I feel wrong for using that sign, but we haven’t established what we are and I don’t want to tell this stranger he’s the hot gym bro I’ve started fucking and accidentally fell for.

Though she’s probably going to get that in a minute.

‘He’s learning ASL but I need some help communicating with him tonight. ’

She nods. Luckily she doesn’t seem interested in asking questions or making a big deal out of it, which matters in this moment. I need her, but I want this moment to be between me and Thom. ‘Whenever you’re ready to get started,’ she tells me.

I nod, then turn back to Thom. ‘You okay?’ I mouth.

He takes a breath, then nods. He doesn’t look it, but he seems as close to okay as he can be in this situation, so I turn back to Carol. ‘Ready.’

She gives me the go-ahead gesture, so I put my attention back on Thom who has his head twisted back around to look at the screen. I catch his chin and pull his gaze back toward me, shaking my head. ‘She’s not here, understand? She is my voice right now.’

His eyes widen a fraction, and he nods. ‘I understand.’

I huff a soft laugh. ‘Use your voice so she can interpret for me.’

He doesn’t match my smile. He looks upset again, her expression and signs reflecting the worry in his voice as he speaks. “Did I really fuck up that bad? Oh god, should I not swear? Is swearing bad?”

I want to laugh. I also kind of want to kiss him. ‘Swearing is fine. This isn’t church.’

His mouth finally twitches up into the ghost of a smile. “Okay. Okay. So…this is a thing we’re doing right now. Because we need to talk? But not a bad talk, right?”

‘Right,’ I answer back. I can see Carol’s lips move a fraction before Thom’s body relaxes.

Although I need to look at the screen where the interpreter is signing, I really like watching Thom’s mouth.

His lips are so full, and his face is so expressive.

I fight the urge to reach out and touch him, but that’ll lead to other things, and this poor woman isn’t being paid to watch a softcore—or hardcore with the way I’m feeling—amateur porn.

And while interpreters have usually seen too much, I’m not going to traumatize this poor woman.

The moment is shattered with Thom’s next question.

“Are you breaking things off with me?” he asks bluntly.

That question must have been weighing on him since my office.

I shake my head. ‘No. I’m not breaking things off.

’ I want him to relax, to breathe easy so we can get through this.

‘I know you said earlier that you were not going to give up on learning ASL, and I believe you, but I need you to understand why it’s important. ’

He shakes his head. “No, I know. I do ,” he insists when I shoot him a skeptical look.

“We can’t meet in the middle when it comes to communication.

I get that. It’s like…” He wrings his hands in his lap like he wants to sign, and I kind of love that.

I want it to be his first instinct when it comes to me.

“It’s like if we needed to communicate through writing.

I’ve tried—my whole life, I’ve tried to get better.

My parents used to punish me.” He swallowed thickly, and I can see the pain behind his eyes.

“A lot,” he adds. “For years. When that didn’t work and I kept failing in school, they put me on medication, but it just made me feel like crap.

I was on a new prescription every few months, and nothing worked.

They wanted to fix me, but I was too broken. ”

My heart wrenches with sympathy. Sometimes I forget how lucky I am. Living Deaf in a hearing world will never be easy, but I have family, a community, support, and pride. I was given those at birth—I was taught to embrace that part of my identity without reservation .

It’s obvious Thom had nothing like that. Not even from the people who were supposed to love him without conditions.

‘You are not broken,’ I sign firmly, and I hope to god her tone conveys the depth of how much I mean that. ‘Just like I’m not broken.’

He says nothing for a beat, but I can tell someone’s given him this speech before. After a long, deep breath, he says, “If our relationship had to be through text only, it wouldn’t work. No matter what I do, I can’t really read. And you’ve seen how badly I spell.”

I’m unable to stop a small laugh, and I nod. ‘Yeah.’

He grins back, fragile but sweet. “So I get it. I promise I get it. I’m not going to stop, okay? I’m not good at a lot of things. I’m…you know…I’m kind of dumb.”

My hands dart out and grab his, squeezing hard before letting go. ‘You are not dumb.’

He shrugs. “I don’t have a big, important education like you.

Or even like Dex,” he adds. “I got an associate’s in business and passed, but my GPA was so bad.

I was on academic probation for a lot of it, and I think I got some pity Cs from teachers.

But I’m going to be good at this , okay?

I’m going to be so damn good at this. For you. ”

I take a moment to digest what he’s saying.

To feel it deep in my chest, the words settling behind my ribs like a heavy second heartbeat.

‘If your brother and his girlfriend learn ASL—even just a little, just some—we can do a date. But,’ I tell him before he can get too excited, ‘I expect the same from you. With my family and my friends,’ I add in case that’s not obvious.

‘I want you to meet them. To spend time with them. To try for them too.’

He looks like an overexcited golden retriever.

He wriggles his body from side to side a little, nodding almost frantically.

“ Yes . I want to meet them. I’m going to show them all how fucking good I’m going to be to you.

” He suddenly puts a hand to my jaw and leans in close.

My eyes are locked on his lips, though in my periphery, I can see the interpreter on the screen.

“ So good to you,” he repeats. I can feel the softness of his breath across my cheeks and smell the mint from the gum he’d been chewing.

My entire body shudders. I’m so obsessed with him and the way his touch feels against my skin.

Christ, this is almost too much. We’re not even officially dating, but somehow, I find myself wanting to drag him to Home Depot and pick out paint colors for my future home renovations.

I need to temper my excitement and keep us on track. ‘One day at a time. And I want to say sorry again. I didn’t mean to make you cry.’

He blinks, then quickly shakes his head. “No. No, Robbie. That wasn’t you. I was so fucking mad at myself. I knew I screwed up, and I didn’t know how to make it right, and I like you so much. I didn’t want this to stop. I promise I will never do this again?—”

I press a finger to his lips, stopping him before he can make any more promises. ‘Don’t.’

“I mean it,” he says.