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His shoulders dropped and he looked away. “You’re right. Want to do your new presentation for me?”

I stood a little straighter. “You don’t want to read it first? I printed it so you could look and tell me what you think.”

“Nah, do the presentation. It’s good practice for you, and it’ll help me give appropriate feedback because I’ll see it the same way your teacher will.”

“Right, right.” He had a point, but now I was suddenly nervous.

And Knives, who’d been my emotional support kitten while talking to Dayton, now wriggled in my arms, as if she knew it was time for her to go.

As soon as I put her down, she walked right over to Dayton.

Two seconds later, she lay curled around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. Traitor.

I unfolded the printout—no way would I be able to do it without that—and wiped my non-sweaty hands on my pants, awkwardly standing as Dayton sat on the couch, leaning back expectantly.

Damn, I hadn’t been this nervous since my sixth-grade oral presentation on pickup trucks.

I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and took another breath.

Jesus, I felt like a man about to be executed.

I’d had military ops I’d been less nervous about than this.

To his credit, Dayton waited patiently, not once giving even the smallest sign of impatience. And somehow, his calm transferred to me and I was able to start. After the first paragraph, those strange nerves finally drifted away, and I got into it, signing with fluidity and ease.

After what Dayton had told me, I’d researched the history of ASL, and he’d been right about it being a source of cultural pride.

It had been Alexander Graham Bell—yes, the guy who invented the telephone—who had strongly favored oralism over sign language despite having a deaf mother and, later on, a deaf wife.

Hell, the dude had even suggested Deaf people should not be allowed to marry other Deaf people so as not to propagate deafness. That was a seriously fucked-up opinion right there, and he’d even tried to support it with some pseudo-science that had been quickly debunked.

Anyway, I’d put some of that research into my talk and spent some time discussing how important ASL was to the Deaf community before stating that oral language was still my preference. Hopefully, that would be enough to appease my teacher.

When I was done, the nerves came back in full force. What if Dayton hated it? But he didn’t leave me in suspense for long. “That was really, really good.”

The tension immediately seeped from my shoulders. “Yeah?”

“You offered a much more nuanced view of ASL and what it means both socially and culturally. And it would be hard for your teacher to fail you on this one.”

Pure joy exploded inside me. “Thank you. Man, that’s a relief. Any feedback on the signing? I know I still need to work on my non-manual markers, but other than that?”

He shook his head. “Other than that, I didn’t spot any mistakes. It’s clear you’ve practiced hard.”

I shuffled my feet. “I didn’t want to fail again.”

“You shouldn’t.” The warm hand on my shoulder did strange things to my stomach. “You’ll be fine.”

Dayton was right. This time, my teacher didn’t fail me. In fact, I passed the test with a ninety-two percent score, which made me stupidly happy. The results came in as I was waiting for the water to boil so I could put the pasta in.

The red sauce had already been simmering for a good hour—the recipe courtesy of one of Nash’s coworkers, whose grandmother had brought it with her from Sicily or some shit.

It could’ve been straight from some mob family or have been paid for in blood.

I didn’t care. I’d made it once before, and it tasted divine.

I screenshot the result and texted it to Dayton.

I passed!

I knew you would. Congrats! That’s an amazing score.

Thanks for your help.

You did all the work. I just sat there and listened.

Thanks for listening then.

My pleasure

Seconds later, my phone buzzed again. Dayton had sent me three pictures of Knives, all curled up on his lap. Had she gotten bigger, or was that my imagination? She still looked tiny on his thigh, but not as small as before, maybe?

Did she grow? She looks bigger.

I’m not sure. I’d have to weigh her.

I think she has.

Since three days ago, when you saw her last?

I rolled my eyes.

“What are you annoyed about?” Nash asked, walking into the kitchen.

I turned my phone around. “Doesn’t she look bigger to you?”

Nash leaned in. “Nah, she’s still tiny.”

“That’s because his thigh is so thick. I’m telling you she’s grown.”

“I take it Dayton didn’t agree with you?”

“He never does,” I grumbled. “He’s, like, the least agreeable person on the planet.”

Nash quirked an eyebrow. “Not with me, he’s not. Sounds like a you-problem.”

“Fuck you.”

Nash grinned. “Fuck you too.”

I dumped the pasta into the water as Creek entered the kitchen. “Is dinner ready yet?”

I gestured at the pasta I’d just put in. “If you prefer your pasta very al dente, sure. You may break a few teeth while eating it, but who cares, right?”

He flipped me the bird.

“What’s the rush?” Nash asked. “You know we eat at six-thirty, and Tameron is running right on time.”

Creek sat at the table, dragging a hand through his hair. “Forest wants to call after dinner. Says he has some news he wants to share.”

Forest was Creek’s little brother. Well, he wasn’t so little anymore as he was a grown-ass man, only a few years younger than Creek, but that didn’t matter. Younger brother meant little brother, even if they were adults.

I’d met Forest the year before when he’d spent a few days with Creek, and he was an utter delight—unlike his brother.

They were legit polar opposites, Forest’s sunshiny demeanor to Creek’s eternal grumpiness.

Funny how two brothers could be so different, but then again, my sister Kasha and I were nothing alike either.

Nash stood a little straighter. “Good news? Or bad news?”

“He didn’t specify.”

“But you think it’s good news?” Nash pressed, and Creek and I exchanged a look.

“I don’t know, but I will let you know as soon as I’ve talked to him…if I have his permission.”

My phone dinged again, and when I checked the text Dayton had sent, I almost dropped it in the boiling water.

You were right! She has grown.

It wasn’t that message that had me flummoxed.

It was the accompanying picture. Dayton had taken it while aiming the camera down at the scale he’d put Knives on in a shoebox, but he’d caught a good portion of himself as well…

and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I had a prime view of his absolutely ripped six-pack and a noticeable bulge in the tight shorts he wore.

Dayum. The man really was built, and not even for “his age.” I let out a deep sigh. Some people really had everything going for them, didn’t they?

I told you so.

Nice shot.

Isn’t she adorable in that shoebox?

Sure, we’d go with adorable. Because the kitten was the reason I’d almost dropped my phone into a pot of boiling pasta.

What the fuck was wrong with me?