Page 7 of Kiss-Fist (Deaf Hearts #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

THOM

“Yo! Tea-bag!”

I was in the middle of heading to a stack of weights that had fallen over, and the sound of Kyle’s voice makes me trip over my feet. I catch myself on the wall before I eat shit on the rough gym floor, and one person across the room applauds.

Most of the people here are regulars, and they know I’m clumsy as shit unless I’m hyperfocused. Which, today, I’m not. I’m too busy in my head thinking about hot Deaf guys with tiny biceps.

“Hello?” Kyle says, louder this time. “Earth to Thom. Need another dose of Adderall, man?”

I don’t turn around. Kyle is that douche bag wannabe jock who peaked in high school…

except he wasn’t cool in high school either.

He just thought he was, and now he’s regurgitating the same jokes that weren’t funny ten years ag o.

We shouldn’t have hired him, but Dex—my younger brother—had put in a good word, so who was I to disagree.

I mean, we co-own this place together. He has just as much right to make hiring decisions as I do. Even if I am older.

“Did you hear me?”

Yes, Kyle. I did hear you. But you’re annoying, so I’m ignoring you.

I shake my opaque blue bottle full of sweet, sweet protein goodness and arch my back to work out a few of the kinks I’ve gotten from getting older. I’m not a spring chicken anymore. I’m starting to get aches now. And pains. I may even have to start doing yoga.

“ Thom !”

I paste on my most friendly customer service smile as I spin slowly and raise a brow at Kyle, who looks irritated.

Beside him is a nervous guy who, in other circumstances, would be disgustingly good-looking, but right now, it seems like he just went six rounds with an angry baby elephant.

He’s got a bruise on his jaw, a swollen shiner covering his left eye, and a split lip.

There are also little cuts all over his arms and neck.

What the fuck did this guy get into? Does he do underground cage fighting in his free time?

“Client,” Kyle says.

Ah, so he’s one-wording me now as though that’s supposed to make me feel bad about ignoring him.

Sauntering to the counter, I turn my back on Kyle and prop my hip against it, swiping my hand over my mouth to make sure I don’t have a protein shake mustache.

It’s happened before, and I don’t embarrass that easily, but I don’t enjoy looking like a messy toddler either.

“I’m Thom.” I extend my free hand, and he takes it gingerly.

“Leaf. And yes, I know, the name is different. My parents are really into plants.”

Kyle snorts and makes the gesture for smoking weed.

I ignore him.

So does Leaf.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to ask. It’s nice to meet you.”

He nods and eyes Kyle for a second, his face very clearly sharing my irritation at him. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Depends,” I say with my most friendly wink. “I’m off in ten minutes, and I really can’t afford to stay late, so if you’re looking for a session today?—”

His grimace cuts me off. “Uh, nah, not tonight. But Kevin?—”

“Yo, the name is Kyle ,” the jackass in question interrupts over my shoulder.

I grin as Leaf looks like he’s fighting off an eye roll. “Sorry. Kyle said that you’re the one with openings, and I haven’t really gone to the gym in a while, so I could use a few training sessions before I go off on my own.”

I cock a brow at him.

“Okay, fine. I might not have gone ever ,” he amends.

I gently clap him on the shoulder, not bothering to hide a laugh.

“It’s all good, man. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere, right?

And I’m absolutely taking new clients.” New clients make me think of my latest guy—the hot-as-fuck professor who I thought was for sure going to quit on me with the way he limped out of here that first session.

Except he was back the next day.

Now, I don’t shit where I eat—that’s my hard and fast rule—but he made me want to break that silly decision the second he met my gaze with that chiseled jawline and the look on his face like he wanted to stick me in the corner and tell me I was a bad boy.

I might have kind of broken it already by giving him my number. Not that he’ll text me, but I did it anyway.

I fight back a shiver and clear my throat. “What are you looking to work on?”

“I have stress injuries in my wrists and shoulders,” he says, rolling them as if to demonstrate. “And I could be stronger. I’m semi-retired now, so I feel like I shouldn’t waste my time sitting around knitting or whatever, you know?”

I look at him and wonder how old he is. He can’t be more than his mid-thirties. But hey, what do I know? And it’s really not my business anyway.

Retirement sounds like a death sentence to me though. I’d be straight up raw-dogging wheatgrass and lifting until my knees shattered from osteoporosis or whatever the fuck old people got that gives them brittle bones.

But there’s something about Leaf that says it’s not just about being bored. There’s something a little…wild in his eyes. Almost frantic. I’ve seen it before—that sort of fear because something in his life is very wrong. It sends up all my alarm bells .

“Is this a self-defense thing?” I decide to ask.

He most definitely got the shit beat out of him, and the closer I look, the more I start to worry.

He’s got a pretty nasty bruise that goes from his collarbone all the way down into his shirt.

“If you need help, you know we can provide that for you, right?”

Domestic violence does not have a gender, and I will do everything in my power to protect anyone who comes through our doors.

He blinks at me for a beat, and then his entire face erupts into a pink sunset. “Ah. No, no. Nothing like that.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, okay?” I step closer and pay attention to any possible flinching as I put my hand on his shoulder. He stays steady. “We can help.”

He rolls his eyes up toward the ceiling and lets out a long sigh. “If I tell you the truth, you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

Swallowing thickly, his gaze darts to the side, so I urge him away from the desk and Kyle’s annoying-as-fuck eavesdropping. Leaf glances around us, then says, “I have a groundhog.”

I stare at him for a good thirty seconds. “Is that…a euphemism of some sort?”

He groans. “No. Literally. I mean, it’s not mine.

It’s on the fucking property I inherited.

I decided to try my hand at farming because, like, how hard can it be, right?

” He laughs manically before clearing his throat.

“I have this aunt who died, and…well. I won’t bore you with the details.

But she left me this house and these chickens, and about a week ago, my neighbor comes over with a rooster and tells me that I need him.

I believe her because I’m a fucking moron.

So now I’m be ing woken up at ass o’clock every single day, and I do not do well with sleep deprivation. ”

I can’t stop staring at his face as he trauma dumps all over me, and it’s very clear that he’s not making this up. The poor bastard has been through it.

“So, everything’s cool for a few days, right?

” He throws his hands into the air, then winces.

“Then I’m out trying to fix this fence because apparently dogs and foxes and shit will come eat all my chickens if there’s even the slightest—like, what the hell?

I didn’t even know we had foxes out here.

And suddenly, the rooster goes berserk, crashes into me, sends me flying over the fence and into a rain barrel.

The chickens start freaking out and pile on me and start pecking the shit out of me, and as I get up so they don’t peck out my damn eyes, I look over and see this groundhog smirking at me like fifty feet away. ”

“Smirking?” I blurt.

“I know it sounds insane, but I’m telling you the truth.

Its horrible little teeth were sticking out, and it looked so happy with itself.

” He rubs both hands down his face. “I told my other neighbor, and he goes, ‘Oh yeah, that’s Michael. He’s kind of a menace around here.

Never plant tomatoes because he will eat them all. ’”

I blink at him. “His name is Michael?”

Leaf’s eyes start to water, and he sniffles loudly. “Yeah. Anyway, so if I want to be strong enough to go to war with fucking Michael and also fix all the broken shit around this farm, I need to work out. That’s why I’m here. I realized I can’t do this alone.”

It’s a miracle I don’t laugh. I need to buy myself a sweet treat as a reward for holding myself together. I clear my throat and nod seriously at him, and I don’t ask if he’ll take me to meet Michael the groundhog, even though I desperately want to.

But I’m also probably going to make Leaf my new best friend. He sounds like fun.

“I can help you.”

His shoulders sag. “Seriously? After all that, you’re still willing to be in my presence?”

“Yep. We’ll get those biceps pumped as fuck, and I’ll get you on a really nice squats routine to help your core. Then you can start a TikTok account and go viral as the hot chicken farmer.”

His cheeks pink, and he glances away. “Yeah, no. I do not need internet fame. I’m happy to be left alone.”

Maybe he doesn’t need it, but the world probably needs a hot chicken farmer to look at when they’re sad. But that’s a future problem. For now, I need to get him on my schedule. “Come with me to my office. I have my appointment book there, and we can see where I can squeeze you in.”

He looks worried as he follows me past the long row of treadmills. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“You’re adorable,” I tell him, patting his bicep. “This is my literal job. I just got a new client, is all, and I want to make sure no one is getting shuffled around too much.” We swing around the corner, and I open the door to the little supply room.

Leaf stops in the doorway, giving the space a dubious look .

“It’s not a murder cave, I swear. My boss is kind of a dick, and he said if I wanted an office, I had to take this space.”