Page 19 of Tone Deaf

At first, I thought he might be delusional, but the large bump on the back of his head says otherwise.

“How about this? I have a friend who has a private security agency here. I trust him. Let me call him and see what he can do.”

“I don’t have the money for that shit, Dominic. After they released me from the hospital, our asshole boss put me on fucking desk duty. I didn’t last a year man,” Rick cries, wiping his runny nose with the back of his hand.

But that was fourteen years ago.I keep that part to myself, though, because where would I be now without Dean?

“I’m on disability. I don’t make jack shit. After Noelle left me, I wasn’t able to get back to my normal. It’s that bitch’s fault. She won’t even let me see my own son. But you know what, I have my ways. Want to see what Joshy looks like now? He’s a freshman at Cornell.” He pulls out his phone, taps it a few times and then hands it to me. “See?”

The first thing I notice is the broken screen. Then I focus on the photo. The image is grainy at best, probably because it was taken from afar. But it’s enough to see the boy’s face. “I’m sure he’s happy to see you now.”

“No. Noelle took out a restraining order. No less than five hundred feet. That bitch. If you make a family, make sure your partner doesn’t take your fucking kid away man.”

I pass him back his phone and clear my throat. The weight of our past isn’t as heavy a burden to me as it is to Rick, which seals my commitment to help him. All this time, he’s been stuck in this perpetual cycle of near insanity, while I got out because Dean pulled me out.

If it wasn’t for my longtime friendship with Dean Harper—meeting him during my short stint in the military, I don’t know where I’d be right now.Maybe like Rick.

“I need your help, Dom,” Rick says as he stubs out the half-smoked cigarette, then grabs for another.

“I’m not sure what I can do, but…” I think for a second, remembering a friend of mine that moved back to Chicago. “I have a friend who might help. I’m going to call Leo and give him the details—you don’t mind if I give him your number?”

Rick shakes his head, puffing out a plume of smoke through his nose. “No, man. I’d appreciate it.”

“Leo owes me a favor. Just give him the details, and then we can go from there. Alright?” I ask, not sure what else to do for him. If anyone can get the answers, it’s Leo Richards.

“I don’t know what to say.” Rick stands and extends his hand. I glance down at it and for a second, I notice how clean his fingernails are. “Thanks, man,” he says graciously, which pulls my focus.

I grip his hand and shake it. Then releasing him, I slowly move to the door. “Rick.”

His watery, bloodshot eyes meet mine. “Yeah?”

“Watch your surroundings. And take care of yourself. I’ll be in touch.”

He drops down onto the sofa and blows out a long breath of smoke. “I will.”

Something about his response niggles at me as I close the door of his apartment and head to my rental car. The entire ride back to the airport, my mind keeps wondering—if Dean hadn’t pulled me out of the pit of hell and straightened my ass out, would I have turned out to be like Rick?

Chapter Nine

Callum

Since the head nurse told everyone to leave about an hour ago, I’ve been sitting here, eyes wide open, not able to sleep.

I pick up my cell phone and see that it’s nearly ten p.m. I send Pen a text, telling him I’m okay.

When the nurse kicked them out, Tobias insisted that Pen go too. I don’t like the idea of being left here without Pen or Dom, but I understand why Tobias commanded Pen to go. He wouldn’t do anyone—especially me, any good if he’s dead on his feet. Tobias assured me that Fig will be close by, while Pen gets some rest for a few hours.

Pen wasn’t happy about the order. Actually, he wasn’t happy the last few hours. Although, I was too tired from the pain meds to push to ask him why he was in a grouchy state. Especially after Danny and the guys explained that Dom abruptly left without a word to anyone.

So where’s Dom?

I asked Tobias, but he refused to answer me, and I didn’t push him either.

I unclip the oxygen sensor from my finger and then carefully lean over, working around the damn IV lines, and grab the neck of the acoustic guitar with my uninjured hand.

When Danny walked into my room earlier with it, I almost cried. In the middle of all the chaos, he had gone to the house and brought me my guitar and stand—one of my most prized possessions. It had belonged to my granddad, who used to call it hisbanjo, and I had always loved watching him play.

Before Tobias made everyone leave, he had Raef set it in the guitar stand he’d put beside my bed.