forged my heart to favor deaf culture in a hearing world, but it did both those things—
after all, after the light of honesty is shed, it was inevitable. But my craving to fit in still
lingered, that too was inevitable. When I was seven I sat in the school auditorium with
my class and the interpreter my parents hired to shadow me. There was a group of high
school students improvising on stage, a comedy—a tragedy if you ask me. One of them
came over to where I was sitting. He mimicked my interpreter and brought down the
house with laughter. I was devastated. I couldn’t understand why all of my friends, the
entire school, would think that was funny. There was only one person in that room that
wasn’t laughing, and it was me. It didn’t take long for my parents to move me to the
Quincy School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. I was filled with relief. Dorm life was
heavenly. Aside from our education, we played sports, board games, held book clubs, and
curled up in the common room to watch closed-captioned TV. I made great friendships
there, solid as iron. And having those people in my life is the sole reason I wouldn’t trade
how I was born for anything.

But I’m not seven anymore. I’m nineteen. I’m not at Quincy. I’m at Whitney Briggs

University. Life is different, but then I knew it would be—although not for reasons you
might think.

It’s different because I met Him.

W H I T N E Y B R I G G S

U N I V E R S I T Y

A N N IE

all is my favorite time of year. The riot of color that nature displays leaves me

breathless. Cool winds replace the scorching sun as the landscape transforms into a
spectrum of crimson and gold. It’s a visual feast that I wait three whole seasons to gorge
on.

Baya and Bryson are busy with a conversation of their own as they enthusiastically

walk me through campus like a kindergartner they’re escorting to the first day of school.
It’s technically not my first day at Whitney Briggs University. I moved into my dorm weeks
ago. I’ve spent the interim getting to know the grounds with my roommate, Marley, but
my brother and his new wife feel the need to walk me directly to the door of my sociology
class. Baya and Bryson recently married this past summer in a double wedding with their
best friends, Laney and Ryder. I love them with all my heart, but I can’t help but feel like
a child under their wings. It’s not like I wasn’t warned. When my friends heard I was
coming to Whitney Briggs, they frowned at the fact my brother and Baya were within
hovering distance. Usually living so close wouldn’t be a big deal, but everyone at the
Quincy School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing understands all too well how stifling
family can unwittingly be.

Bryson picks up my hand—case in point. I try to wriggle free, but he clasps on tight as

if saving me from falling into a bottomless pit. Crowds of girls waltz by, each one of them
tossing their slanted stares to my brother. I’m sure Baya is used to having strange girls
ogle her new husband. Both of my brothers are handsome and far too protective of their
little sister than they need to be.

The girls pause their animated gestures a moment as their heads swivel after Bryson.

Their sweet perfume mingles with the scent of new clothes—and I note that not one of
them is holding their brother’s hand. I pause, pulling him back and wait for Baya to
stumble over.

“What’s wrong?” The terror on her face says it all. Baya is beautiful, and bubbly, and

I’m thrilled to pieces that she’s my new sister-in-law but…

I shake my head to assure her nothing is off kilter.

There’s a literal fork in the cobbled road, and I’m pretty sure this is as good a place as

any to break it to them.

I’ve got it from here, I sign. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I think there’s

something symbolic about me getting to class on my own. I’ve looked forward to this
moment for as long as I can remember, and—well, I want to do this myself.

The hurt look on my brother’s face says more than I can stand. A cool breeze whips by

and ices my bare ankles.

Bryson sags into me while a dull grin breaks loose on his face. He signs back, I know

you’ve got this, kid. “She wants to head out on her own,” he says to Baya before pulling
me into a tight embrace.

I can read pretty much anyone’s lips. It takes some getting used to at first, but, after

a while, it can be just as efficient as signing. There are a few people with whom I can’t
quite catch every word. But, with the exception of the occasional mumbler, I get by pretty
well.

Baya pulls me in, and I can feel her throat vibrating against my shoulder. It’s easy for

people to forget that if I can’t see their lips, I don’t know what they’re saying. I pull back
and dot my mouth with my finger.

“Sorry!” She grimaces. “Are you coming to the bar tonight?” Baya has a tendency to

over annunciate, and that’s fine by me. In reality it makes things easier, but I’d rather she
didn’t. I don’t want to be treated any different than she treats Laney or Izzy, or anyone
else for that matter.

I nod and give a thumbs up. Apparently the first day of school is a pretty big deal at

the Black Bear. There’s a local band performing tonight, plus the student body gets half
off all drinks. My brothers and I bought out my father’s three bars last summer, the Black
Bear being one of them. Despite the fact I’ve just turned nineteen and don’t make a habit
of downing alcohol-laden libations, it’s pretty amazing to be business partners with my
brothers.

Bryson and Baya each offer an insecure wave as they take off. They both hold the

same coloring, and from here they look as if they can be brother and sister as easy as
they can be husband and wife. It’s a weird thought, but oddly enough I specialize in weird
thoughts. I suppose that’s a side effect of years of living in my own bubble. That was the
nice thing about Quincy, while I was at school I was never alone in that bubble.

Bryson signs for me to text him as I head on my way.
The wind picks up, and a maple rattles its already yellowing leaves. The earth lets go

of its raw, wet scent from last night’s rain, and I take in the robustness of nature at its
ripest. For the last eight years of my life, I’ve been a fulltime resident at the Quincy
school for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing, nothing but a saturation of deaf culture and a

shared sense of self with every single person that surrounded me there. And, here, at
Whitney Briggs I’m pretty much alone with everyday people who have never known a
world without sound, a world with hard borders much like that of a picture.

An overgrown oak sits stoically in front of the English building with its fat, hand-

shaped leaves dripping magenta and ruby. My fingers dip into my purse as I feel for my
camera. I’m certain my favorite course of the day will be my final class, Digital Studios.
I’ve loved photography ever since I was seven, and my parents, a.k.a. Santa, gifted me a
hot pink Barbie camera.

A skateboard whizzes in my direction, and I carefully maneuver into the center of the

walkway. A group of girls hurry by, and one of them knocks into my shoulder. She gives a
polite wave, and I can see her lips curving into an apology before turning away.

Kaya, my best friend at Quincy, warned me that life is very different (I believe the

word she used was scary) out in what she’s dubbed the real world. She’s at Texas A & M,
apparently having her fair share of scary experiences. I fish my phone out to send her a
quick text. Life is beautiful. Nothing scary at Whitney Briggs! It’s not too late to
apply for spring semester. Before I can hit send, a body lunges at me and whisks me
into an overgrown dogwood. My phone flies right out of my hand, and, just as I’m about
to dive after it, a squared off delivery truck whizzes by, missing me by inches.

My heart pounds wild in my chest. My head throbs and pulsates, threatening to

explode as I take in what just happened.

I glance at the person who pulled me to safety—a boy, older by a few years,

handsome to the point of nausea. He’s saying something, his face filled with concern. His
dark hair lies over his head like a shadow, his brown eyes are marbled with shades of
emerald, and a part of me wants to freeze time and stay here all day. At least that way I
won’t have to face the fact I almost found myself pinned under a tire.

A mean shudder ripples through me at the thought.
Oh, God. I have to get out of here. I pull my book bag off the ground and scramble for

my phone nearly getting my hand run over by a bicycle. Wow, I’m really on fire today. I’ll
have to do a roll call of my limbs if I ever get back to my dorm in one piece. My body
spikes with heat. I can practically feel my mother panicking when I fill her in on my first
day of misadventures, not that I plan on sharing this tidbit with her. All I need is another
lecture on how beneficial the Excel Implant will be. I understand the fact that hearing is
valuable, but all I see is red (as in blood) whenever I envision myself on that operating
table. It’s enough to make me want to pass out on the spot and inadvertently feed myself
to the tire gods.

The handsome boy appears to be having a lively conversation with me as I wave a

quick goodbye. This is usually the part when I pull out my phone and let them see my

standby note I’ve shown at least fifty people since arriving two weeks ago—the one that
more or less reads, I’m sorry—I’m deaf, and I can’t hear whatever the hell you’re saying.
In reality, it starts with an apology and ends with an explanation of what it means to be
deaf. People are generally stymied by the fact I can’t hear because to them I look
average in every other way. The thing about being deaf is no one really wants to believe
you for the first few minutes. Some days I’d rather not believe it myself.

He pulls me back gently as I try to make my way past him, and the soft scent of his

spiced cologne washes over me in a warm heated wave, orange and mint. His eyes
squint out a smile all their own as his bowed lips expand for me with kindness. My
stomach gives a hard pinch followed by a detonation of heat I’ve yet to feel before.
Whoever this boy—man—man-boy is, he’s got my full anatomical attention. Funny
because that’s never really happened before.

“What’s your name?” His lips are full, the bottom more so than the top. They look

softer than that of most men’s, and, oddly, I’d like to lose myself staring at them all day.

The bodies have all but cleared off campus, a good sign that I’m already late to class.

I shake my head and point to the English building before bolting out of his grasp. My
heart pounds so fast it pulsates right through my skull. Adrenaline shoots through me as
if I’ve just conducted a prison escape—more like a Grim Reaper escape. That truck could
have killed me. Correction, it would have—should have.

I’m starting to think Kaya was right—life is different and scary. That boy’s face comes

back like a photograph I’ve unwittingly pinned to my mind, and my lips curve into a smile.

Despite Kaya’s worldly cynicism, I still believe life is beautiful.

In Sociology I meet my interpreter, the one the university graciously furnished me with,
an undergrad like myself. He’s tall and lanky and wears an easy grin.

My name is Jean-Paul, but don’t call me that. He winks as he signs. It’s too French. I’m

going by Tristan. John-Paul—Tristan—is a French foreign exchange student who knows
American Sign Language (very well might I add). He goes on about how he’s studying to
become a professor at a school similar to Quincy in Provence, and how (according to
himself) he ironically speaks impeccable English. His mother is profoundly deaf, like me,
so he’s been proficient in signing since he was a young boy. He works with the
university’s DSP department, Disabilities Services and Programs. Tristan is taking all four
of my classes this semester.

I can sign three different languages. He seems stoically proud about this.
That’s nice. I can only sign the one. My face heats when I smile.

I think we should coordinate our schedules as much as we can for the next four years.

He signs while the professor takes roll.

Tristan has a calming spirit and boy next door likability to him, and already I want to

be his friend. He also plays for the basketball team, which he’s mentioned about a dozen
times in the last five minutes. He’s cute in a Muppet sort of way. He has clear blue eyes
much like my own and a nice, although thin-lipped and exaggeratingly long smile—thus
the Muppet reference.

My thoughts revert to the boy who snatched me from a waiting casket just a few

minutes ago, and I envision what it would be like if he were my interpreter for the next
four years. A pulsating heat shoots through my stomach. I think I’d have a cardiac
episode before lunch. Pretty boys and I have never mixed well. Not that he was a pretty
boy, more like a beautiful man. And judging by that tattoo creeping up the side of his
neck, a little rugged around the edges.

Tristan gently taps my arm, and I come to.
Four years. I sign back. That’s quite a commitment. I smile. Yes, I guess that would

make it easy. I’m a Fine Arts major, though.

That’s perfect. I plan on get my masters in English. You’re welcome to tag along. He

gives a little wink, and my chest rattles with a laugh.

Silent laughter is something I had to learn to perfect. Speaking isn’t something I

prefer to do. Most of my profoundly deaf friends have broken out of their lingual shells
and speak freely, but, despite years of speech therapy, I haven’t had the best
experiences with my vocal cords, so I prefer to mute them whenever possible—which is
pretty much always. When I was little I would ask my brothers to describe the sound
things would make, the slam of a door, the babble of a brook, and soon they made a
game of trying to describe any and every sound on the planet to me. Of course, the
descriptions were rife with emotion because that’s about as close as I could relate them.
There was angry thunder, happy trees as the wind rustled through their branches,
surprised doorbells, and the trash trucks that drove down our streets at early hours were
always described as tired. Ironic since those were the very things that would wake my
brothers an hour earlier than necessary on Thursdays, leaving my mother with a very
tired Bryson and Holt. I, on the other hand, slept like a log. Still do. It’s my only talent,
really.

Class moves all too fast for me. Tristan decides to take copious notes before shooting

them to my laptop immediately. Whenever the professor says something he deems witty,
Tristan is kind enough to sign it for me.

By the end of the class, I’m taxed from both the novel experience and Tristan’s

incessant self-monologue. In one short hour I’ve become proficient in all things Tristan,

his birth name being just the tip of the French iceberg. I now know he has three sisters,
all of which are enrolled in fashion school. I know he’s bred hamsters for the last three
years as a part of his horticulture and animals club which sounds a lot like 4-H.

By the time our final class of the day rolls around, Digital Studios, I’m exhausted both

emotionally and physically.

I think my brain actually hurts, I sign as we take seats near the front. It’s a small class

with only about twenty students, something far more my style compared to the stadium
seating lecture halls we’ve endured. English 101 already has me cagey because I’m
terrified of writing papers.

You’re just overwhelmed. Tristan pats me on the knee, and instinctively I pull my legs

in. Sorry.

No, it’s fine. I’m just jumpy today. I sort of got off to a rocky start when I narrowly

escaped my true destiny as road kill, but I leave that part out. That boy with the calming
marble eyes comes back to me. I lean into my seat and sigh into the memory. His orange
scented cologne still clings faintly to my sweater as I push my nose into my shoulder.

A tall girl wearing an expensive leather jacket and buttery boots that creep up her

inky denim jeans saunters in. She’s beautiful, like cover model perfection with bouncy
blonde curls, patriotic red lips that glide over her paper-white smile. Instinctively my
stomach turns. That’s the kind of girl the boy with the marbled eyes would go for—the
kind he most likely belongs with. Kaya once broke dating down into leagues, and, plain
and simple, I’m not even on his playing field—but Ms. Red, White, and Blue Jeans is by a
landslide. The girl next to her looks equally gorgeous with darker hair and eyes—the
same I’ve-got-the-world-by-my-father’s-Master Card smile. I’ve noticed girls like that
travel in packs around campus. Back at Quincy there weren’t really any social cliques or
barriers besides the obvious, and when we were together we hardly noticed that one.

Ms. America One and Ms. America Two scoot into our row and both Tristan and I pull

our legs in to accommodate them. One of them holds the scent of an overbearing
perfume about as subtle as frankincense and myrrh. I make a face at Tristan, but he
seems momentarily entranced by the volleyballs expanding from their sweaters. Figures.
It’s a man’s world until a D cup shows up and debilitates the masses.

He doesn’t hesitate starting up a conversation with the tall one.
“She’s deaf.” I see his lips form the words, and my face floods with heat. I am deaf,

but I’m also allergic to labels. Kaya wears her hearing loss like a badge, but I’m not so
eager to flaunt the stones God placed in my ears to the rest of the world.

The girls take their seats before he leans in and signs. They asked how we were

enjoying our first day.

How very nice of them. I gesticulate a little to get my sarcastic edge across. Next time

just tap me on the arm, and I’ll know to pay better attention. It’s not like I want to keep
the fact I can’t hear a secret, but I like to be a part of things. Sorry if I’m coming across
snippy. I’m tired and hungry and all too ready to crash on that squeaky twin mattress
back at the dorm.

Tristan breaks out with a relaxed smile. I apologize. I promise I’ll be more

considerate. He examines me with a bit more scrutiny than I’m used to. You don’t have to
be embarrassed about anything, Annie. You’re a sweet soul. Everyone will pick up on
that. Plus you’re beautiful. Life always gives a pass to girls like you. He gives a quiet
smile and turns to the front.

A pass, huh? Then why does today feel like one giant hurdle?
Professor O’Leary strides in. A tired looking man that has hands the size of baseball

mitts. He tries his best to speak a little slower than usual and makes it a point to stand
directly in front of me when delivering the lecture. It’s both embarrassing and
unnecessary, but I appreciate his effort.

Tristan signs as he speaks.
“I want each of you to put together a portfolio on campus life through your unique

eyes. The final will consist of a montage of photos that you feel best express your
Whitney Briggs experience along with an oral report in which you relay what the
photographs mean to you and how your view of life may or may not be altered through
photography. I’m looking for artistry, impeccable imagery, and creativity. Pull at my
heartstrings. Make me see you as a soul, not just a body that occupies a chair twice a
week. Although a photograph captures a world trapped in silence—nothing conveys
emotion louder than stunning imagery.”

It’s true. And as cliché as it sounds, a picture can convey something more meaningful

than a thousand well-spoken words. It’s why I love to shoot the landscape, animals—
people.

The class draws to a close as the professor examines our equipment. He gives my

camera a brief nod of approval, but it’s hard to miss the fact that other students have far
more impressive technology at their disposal.

Tristan and I stand to leave just as the beauty contestants make a spectacle of

themselves to him—each struggling to thrust their chest a little closer to the poor guy’s
face. We get it. You’re big, beautiful, and breasty. I sneer at them, but no one is paying
any particular attention to me.

The tall one picks up Tristan’s hand with her freshly manicured fingers, speaking a

mile a minute, flipping her blonde hair around like she’s trying to swat a fly. Her buddy
scowls my way before pressing her chest toward Tristan, lest she forget the task at hand.
It begs the question is chest-bumping some new mating ritual I’ve been in the dark about

all these years? Either that or they don’t take kindly to other women hovering near their
prey.

Tristan watches mesmerized as they swing their hips right out the door. His mouth

drops open. Clearly he runs the risk of drooling all over his shoes.

They said to tell you hi. He stares vacantly in their wake while signing.
I’m right here, Tristan. They could have told me that to my face.
They’re not used to you yet.
Used to me? That’s okay, I laugh softly to myself. It’s pretty clear you’re all they want

to get used to. Tristan is a good-looking Muppet if I don’t say so myself. I’m sure there
will be a lot of beautiful girls vying for his attention over the next few years. I gauge him
for a moment, studying the contours of his face, daring my stomach to clench the way it
did this morning, but it declines the offer.

His cheeks stain a blotchy purple. The tall one is Johanna. The shorter girl has a hard

Jersey accent. Her name is Courtney. They’re rushing for Alpha Chi. They wanted to know
if you’re interested.

I roll my eyes. That’s classic—but nice of them. Next time they’re around, I’ll let you

decline the offer for me. I’m not particularly annoyed with them. I realize it takes a little
more effort for people to have a conversation with me. I don’t really blame those girls for
asking him to relay a message.

We head out to go our separate ways.
See you tomorrow, I sign, ready to speed to my dorm. There’s nothing more I want

than a nice, hot shower—my pillow has managed to seduce me sight unseen. I think I’ll
blow off the bar tonight. God knows I’ve had enough action for one day. Any more
stimulation and my head might actually pop off, that is if I don’t manage to get myself
flattened by an errant semi in the meantime.

Tristan stuffs his hands in his pockets and sways back on his heels, examining me with

an uncomfortable gaze.

“Hey, Annie?” I read his lips easily, and I’m thankful he’s speaking at a normal speed

—that he’s speaking to me in general. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“

So what did you say?” Marley spins into her reflection and runs her fingers through her

flaxen curls one last time. She’s spent the last half hour wielding a gold-barreled curling
iron with a hairstyling vengeance. She’s sprucing herself up at a manic pace, getting
ready to head out to the Black Bear in just a few minutes. She’s begging me to go, but I
keep refusing. The way my day is headed, I think it’s best to shut my eyes and mercifully

put this twenty-four hour interval to an end.

I cringe at what came next. Well… I show her my phone. Marley doesn’t sign, but I

can read her lips just as good as she can read the notes from my phone most of the time.
I may have said yes.

Her pouty pink mouth falls open. “You lied?” Marley is your typical beautiful blonde

with big ocean blue eyes that rival my own. And, unlike Johanna and Courtney, Marley
has treated me just like anybody else right from the beginning. Maybe that’s why I felt so
close to her from the get go. Marley has been a life raft to me ever since move-in day.
She’s acclimated well to life at Whitney, so much so that she already has her own section
in the school newspaper both the online version and the tree-slaughtering one. Her
column, Sex and the Coed, has raised a few brows on campus, but, for the most part,
she’s engrossed the masses. She said she needed a catchy title to get everyone’s
attention. Her articles are mostly about fashion with the odd sex tips thrown in for good
measure. Pairing the perfect jeans with a blowjob seems strange to me, but I grew up
under a rock compared to everyone else, so I just go with it.

I type as fast as I can. I guess I did lie. But, I swear, I didn’t mean to. My head

was just all over the place today. Something happened this morning that sort
of spooked me, and it was all downhill from there. I show her my phone.

“What happened?” Her concern grows as she leans in. The light catches her sticky

gloss, and her lips shimmer like a tiny galaxy of stars.

I may have got in the way of a moving vehicle. I cringe.
“Annie!” Her hand flattens over her chest. “I’m sorry, I should have been there for

you.” She pulls me into a hug and rambles out a warm stream of words right into my
shoulder before pulling back. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out that door alone this
morning.”

It’s fine, really. Baya and Bryson tried to walk me to class. I close my eyes a

moment envisioning what my brothers would do if they knew about my brush with a
chrome fender followed by my brush with all out lust for the boy who saved me. Please
don’t say anything. I thought my biggest challenge would be bikes and
skateboards. I had no clue a freeway ran through campus.

She plucks the phone from my hand and pounds out a note.
It’s rare, but I’ve seen cars and trucks. Be careful. Her lips twist. I won’t tell

but only under one circumstance.

I shrug in lieu of a written response. Marley and I are working out the kinks in our

communication barrier quicker than I thought possible. In a few short weeks, Marley has
managed to feel like the Whitney Briggs version of Kaya—not that Kaya could ever be
replaced, just multiplied in a very sweet manner.

“Come to the Black Bear.” She bites down on her lower lip, a devious smile hedges up

the sides. “Or when your brothers ask why you didn’t show, I might just have to spill
everything.”

The Black Bear Saloon vibrates with an energy all of its own. I’ve been to a couple of
parties with Marley, mostly on “the row” where the sororities and fraternities line the
streets. The party scene seemed like a fun idea in theory, but it’s near impossible to read
anybody’s lips in dim lighting, and I felt bad for Marley every time she tries to transcribe a
conversation for me. I agreed to come to the Black Bear but only if she agreed to hang
out with some of her other friends while I took pictures. I figure what better time to start
cataloging my collegiate experience than tonight. Besides, I’ve been meaning to take a
few cute couple shots of Baya and Bryson, and of my brother, Holt, and his fiancé, Izzy.
Holt is Bryson’s fraternal twin, but only the discerning eye can tell them apart.

I spot Izzy by the bar tying back her long, dark hair. She and Holt are newly engaged.

She’s the one who introduced me to Marley. Izzy and Marley’s sister Jemma, have been
best friends for years. Izzy actually used to teach my dance class when I was a kid. She
always made sure that I never missed a beat. She taught me to count my way through
the numbers and put me in the middle of the action so that no matter where I turned I
could pick up on visual cues from the other girls. I couldn’t have chosen a nicer person for
my brother. He let the family know last summer that the reason he never went to college
was because he felt like he caused my parents’ divorce. It was a huge mess. Obviously
my father’s infidelity with a girl who had hardly turned eighteen at the time had more to
do with it than he did. And by the time Holt realized he wasn’t the bomb that detonated
over my parents’ marriage bed, he had already paid an emotional debt he never really
owed. He and Izzy help run the bars in addition to her newly acquired dance studio,
Electric Lights. Bryson is busy working on his masters and does most of the behind the
desk stuff that the business requires. Ironically, I’m sort of a silent partner in both the
business and in life.

The lights dim a bit, and a swarm of bodies move toward the stage as one of the

bartenders, Cole, introduces the lineup for the night. I’ve known Cole for as long as I can
remember. He and Bryson were roommates for years. The sign above his head reads 12
Deadly Sins, and judging by the anxious looks on the droves of girls lining the edge of the
stage, these sinners have quite the female following. I take a seat near the wall and pull
out my camera, taking pictures of the sea of platinum curls, the short skirts that seem far
too impractical for the arctic drop in temperature we’re experiencing outside. Gawking at

their long, bare legs through my lens has me feeling a bit pervish, so I sneak in a picture
of Cole heading off stage, kissing his girlfriend, Roxy. I love Roxy. She’s as straight to the
chase as one can get. It’s hard to get her to smile, but she’s pretty nice to me overall.
She’s been known to bring cupcakes to the bar at least once a week during staff
meetings, and they’re fabulous in a zillion calories sort of way. Once I gain my freshman
fifteen, I’ll know who to point the finger at.

The band takes the stage, and the bodies jump up and down—boobs are jostled right

out of their safety nets as the girls in front go wild, thrashing their fists in the air,
swinging their hips to the non-existent music. I know it hasn’t started yet because at a
venue like this the vibrations tend to ride through my body. The energy in the bar
skyrockets as the girls work themselves in a head thrashing frenzy. I take a seat up on
the table to get a better look as the music gets under way. The baritone of the bass
pulsates through my chest. I lean straight against the wall and feel the rhythm of the
music jump up and down my vertebrae like a xylophone. This is one of the things I know
for a fact I’m missing out on in life—music. I close my eyes a moment and try to imagine
what it must sound like. My parents outfitted me with heavy duty hearing aids when I
was a kid, and I still have them, but they made the world scary like what I’d imagine
demons sound like, heavy, tired moans that I’m positive I want no part in, so I never
wear them. Instead I feel the vibration that life has to offer. And on occasions like this, I
ache to know what it must feel like to hear something so fierce and majestic. Back at
Quincy we used to turn the speakers up as loud as possible and feel the top ten iTunes
hits vibrate through the room. I guess that was our way of experiencing what seems to
have everyone else our age so mesmerized all the time.

A light tap emits over my leg, and I open my eyes to find Laney and Baya smiling at

me.

Laney waves. “Can I get you anything?” She over annunciates the words.
I shake my head and point to the stage. My eyes connect with the lead singer, and my

mouth opens as if I’m about to say something, but really it’s from sheer surprise.

It’s him. It’s the gorgeous boy with marbled eyes who saved me from acting out a

very real piece of performance art today—the red asphalt rendition.

He elongates a note and smiles right at me. My stomach fills with a fire that expands

right up my chest. There it is again, that physiological response that makes every cell in
my body sit up and pay attention.

Baya and Laney don’t let the moment go unnoticed.
Baya jots something down on her notepad. Cute isn’t he?
I brush her off with a shy smile, but I can feel my cheeks burning right through my

denial—sirening out a, hell yes! without my approval.

“Let me get you a soda,” Laney offers. “You want some food?” She looks as if she

might be mouthing the words. I can usually tell, but I never mind.

I shake my head again, but she’s saying something and nodding, and I’m afraid she’ll

be back with a steak before I know it. Sometimes people go out of their way for me, and
Laney has always been like that.

Baya flashes her notepad at me again, Maybe after his set you can talk to him.

She bounces on her heels at the thought.

“No way,” I mouth. I type out a quick text. I’ve got enough on my plate this

semester. I don’t need to add desperate to the equation. I went on a few dates
back at Quincy—all with boys in my class, mostly dances, but there wasn’t a
real spark. Dating just seems like a waste of time unless you feel that spark.

Baya makes a face as she glances back at the lead singer. “I don’t know…” She

wrinkles her nose as she scribbles out another note. Something tells me that boy
knows how to start a lot more than a spark. Maybe you’re right, you’d better
stay away. He looks capable of burning down the whole damn building if you
know what I mean. She gives a quick wink before disappearing into the crowd.

I lean and press my back hard to the cold wall as the music, the vibration of that

beautiful man’s voice, streams through my veins like a long anticipated breeze on a
sweltering midnight. The cords in his neck distend as he belts out the lyrics, and in my
heart the silence is exchanged for a rhythmic code to the universe. He’s wearing a dull
green T-shirt with a faded image of a flag on it, but it’s his muscles, the hard contours of
his body, that beg my eyes to stay. He’s muscular but not overly so. He has an overt
charisma and charm about him that explains the estrogen bomb going off at his feet as
the girls clamor to touch the hem of his jeans like he’s Jesus.

The night goes on with my brothers taking turns checking in on me. Laney brings me a

steady order of nachos even though I’ve hardly touched the first. Cheese from a can just
isn’t my thing, but I don’t have the heart to tell her. Marley and a few of the girls from our
dorm have migrated over, and I’ve gladly shared the mother load with anyone who wants
it.

“Can you believe this band!” Marley beams practically shaking me by the shoulders

before her expression drops. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” I mouth. “I love them.” Well, the idea of them. They gave me good

vibrations, I want to say, but I’m sure the idea sounds a bit too esoteric at the moment—
or sexual. Marley has a way of turning even the most innocent thought into a vision of X-
rated delight. Before I can say another word, I spot Tristan making his way over. The
band cuts out, and the normal vibratory sounds emit from the speakers. I know for a fact
that Holt has music streaming from the moment this place opens right up until the crew

closes for the night.

I make a face at Marley. It’s too late to text her about Tristan. We’ll have to work out

a code for get me out of this predicament.

Tristan gives a quick wave, and I motion for him to introduce himself to Marley. She

nods toward him politely and smiles, but I can tell by the look on her face she’s sizing up
the situation.

“Oh, you’re that Tristan!” Her eyes grow wide as she realizes it’s the poor boy I

expended my very first lie to. I couldn’t feel like a bigger ass if I tried.

“So is your boyfriend here?” Tristan glances around fully expecting to see a living,

breathing, male who might actually be in a commitment of some sort with me. I eye Cole
for a moment, but that would be weird, and I’d hate to be cut off from my cupcake
supplier so soon.

A gaggle of blondes head in this direction, and then I see him. It’s the boy with the

eyes, the boy with the band, the boy whose mouth moves like a poem come to life as he
leans into the mike, the one whose large and in charge of the 12 Deadly Sins. My
stomach does a hard flop reminiscent of the stomach flu. I’m pretty sure hot boys are not
supposed to remind you of a twenty-four hour puking session.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I can read his lips clearly. I’ve already committed

them to memory. His eyes are lined with black kohl, and it only makes him that much
more absurdly handsome. This is definitely a look that he should pull off often if not daily.
My mind drifts a moment as I envision him dipping into my makeup bag before I notice
that he’s still waiting for me to answer his question. I go to shake my head, but Tristan
opens his mouth instead.

“Are you the boyfriend?” He offers him a hand before he can refute it.
Marley’s mouth drops as she glances from the singer to me.
My palms grow sweaty, and the camera nearly slips from my grasp. I knew I shouldn’t

have come tonight. On top of everything else poor Tristan here will discover that the girl
he’s committed to assisting for the next four years is a barefaced liar. I can’t help it,
though—a part of me doesn’t want him ogling me for the next half decade. At the
moment, it did seem the only logical way out.

The boy with the marbled eyes looks from me to Tristan then back to me with an

extended pause. His eyes singe into mine like flames, and I have to blink just to keep
from fainting. What the hell has gotten into me today?

He nods into Tristan. “I am the boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

B L A K E

ere she is, the mystery girl who threw my entire day for a loop. I tried to chase her

down, but she zigged and zagged so fast I lost sight of what building she flew into. And
here I was afraid I had imagined her, I thought for sure all that adrenaline pumping
through me was making me see what I wanted, skewing my perspective of reality.
Reality hasn’t been so great as of late. But she’s here, every bit as beautiful as I
remember and then some.

The dude I met a second ago, Tristan, turns his attention to a couple of girls I’ve been

trying to shake. I’ve seen them here before—all tits and heels—curling their finger at me
with one hand and a condom in the next. After each set I get a few invites, hell, who am
I kidding, a few dozen invites for whatever my hard-up soul desires, but I’ve been laying
off the rock candy ever since Benji died. He always did tell me I screwed around too
much. He was the voice of reason for most of my life. Who knew it would take his death
to turn me into some poster boy for celibacy. And as much as the girl standing before me
seems like the cure, there’s a sweetness to her I can’t quite put my finger on. Something
tells me she won’t be laying out any triple X offers tonight. But after years of jockeying
bitter, easy women, God knows I’m craving a little sugar—someone down home and
sweet.

I lead her to the entry away from the bustle, away from Tristan and the blowjob posse

that’s surrounded him. He can thank me later. He seems like a nice guy, and if he plays
his cards right those two blondes will be equally as nice to him.

“What’s your name?” I can’t help but grin like a fool at the gorgeous girl in front of me.

She’s a foot shorter. Her lips are still in kissing range of mine, and I’m not above testing
the theory. Her glossy light brown waves trickle down her back, and I fight not to dig my
fingers through them. Her eyes practically glow in the dark like blue electric pools. I can’t
seem to cut my gaze loose. And, judging by the way her lips are sealed tight, I’m
guessing she’s shy as hell. Lucky for me I have nothing against a little social discomfort.
I’m all about helping people loosen up. Not to mention, I’m boisterous enough for the
both of us.

Her chest expands as she swallows. She gives a nervous glance past my shoulder as if

she’s laying low. Her lips pinch into a restrained smile before she shakes her head and
bolts out the door.

“Whoa, where you going?” I follow her out into the biting night air. I can’t remember

the last time I was shut out like that. She just dented my ego and took off in a hit and
run rejection that I hadn’t experienced in years, if ever. A quiet laugh strums through me.
I’m okay with the chase. It’s a game I’m not too familiar with, but for her I’m willing to
rewrite a couple of rules.

It’s clear out, cold as shit. You can smell the storm coming in. We’ll be drenched by

midnight.

She plucks her phone out and starts texting—an extension of giving me the cold

shoulder I presume. Oddly, it doesn’t feel rude. She’s as gorgeous as she is sweet, and I
think I just might be getting the nicest kiss off known to man. Still doesn’t make that
grinding feeling in my balls any better.

“Hey”—I pant, keeping stride with her—“did I do something wrong?” She doesn’t look

up, just keeps clicking into her phone a mile a minute. “I mean, I did sort of save your life
today. I would think that would at least warrant a thank you.” A sheepish smile takes
over my face. I don’t really want or need a thank you. And if that’s the best I’ve got, I’m
fucked. Half the girls in there were throwing their underwear at me, and this one won’t
acknowledge my existence—ironic since she’s the only one I’d gladly take a pair of
panties from. If playing hard to get is her game, it’s working. Hell, I’m up for any game
she wants to play.

She flashes her phone at me. Her face glows from the light, perfect and beautiful like

an angel, and I don’t want to take my eyes off hers. Reluctantly I glance down.

Thank you for helping me out this morning. I’m sorry if I seemed rude. I

was a little thrown off. My name is Annie, and I’m deaf.

The smile glides off my face without meaning to. She swallows hard with a slight look

of hurt as she tries to head back into the bar.

“No, no.” I block her path. “Please. It’s nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand, and she

takes it hesitantly. “My name is Blake.” For a second I feel foolish saying anything, but, in
truth, I’m not sure what to do, and the last thing I want is to shut her out. I search her
features as a thousand emotions run through my mind. How can this beautiful girl not
hear a word I’m saying, not hear a sound the world has to offer?

I hold up a finger and pluck out my phone. My name is Blake. It’s very nice to

meet you. I stop from adding I’m sorry, even though I am sorry, and heartbroken, and
gutted by the fact she can’t hear. I want that for her, and my heart breaks knowing she
can’t have it. Would you like to get some coffee? I point to the Starbucks across the

street. My treat.

Her head tips in the slightest hint of a nod, and I carefully pick up her hand. But it

feels natural, and I don’t want to stop.

“Is this okay?” I mouth.
She offers a silent laugh and clasps her fingers over mine as we cross the street and

head inside. Her hand slips from mine as we place our orders. We get our drinks and find
a table near the window. I don’t think I’ve had this much silence with a girl unless our
tongues were tied together. I give a pained smile as we stare at one another a moment.

My fingers fumble for my phone, and she places her hand over it and shakes her head.

She pumps out a quick note on her phone.

I want to try and read your lips. At least in the beginning.
“Okay, then.” I take a deep breath, that silly grin finds a home on my face again. “Are

you sure?”

Annie nods as a slight dimple lights up her left cheek making her that much more

gorgeous than she already is. She’s more than beautiful—not to mention her beauty
radiates organically from the inside. It’s clear she’s not the kind of girl I’m usually paired
with. I’m used to barracudas ready and willing to tie me to the bedpost. Not that I would
protest the idea if she proposed it.

“Tell me something about yourself.” I can’t help but speak slower, quieter given the

circumstances.

I’m boring. She bites down on a smile as she flashes her phone my way.
“Not true.” I hold up my phone and twist my lips until she nods for me to use it. I saw

you with a camera tonight. Are you into photography?

My brother Benji was into photography. It was his life’s passion. He wanted to sell his

pictures to National Geographic and any other news-worthy entity that would take them.
My gut cinches thinking about him. I try to shake him out of my head if only for a
moment. Benji hasn’t left my head in weeks, and, strangely enough, there seems to be
something about Annie that has the ability to make the agony more bearable. How do I
explain to this sweet girl I’m going to need her around for the next few decades just to
quell the excruciating pain in my life? I give a bleak smile.

I love photography. In fact, I think I got a few great shots of you and the

band. If you like I can send them. Is that your passion? Music?

My brows knit tight. “Music is right.” I grimace. “Up until about six weeks ago it was

bikes, too. Motorcycles.” She squints as if not catching all the words, so I type it out for
her. I grimace as I show her the phone because a part of me knows I just opened up a
can of worms that I wish I could jam back in because I know what’s coming next.

Why are motorcycles suddenly out? Did daddy repossess your Harley? ;)

I belt out a laugh. Whitney Briggs—Hollow Brook in general, is populated with over

privileged kids that skate by drunk off their trust funds. So I can appreciate the humor—
especially since I’m out of the demographic.

My eyes trace out her perfect bow-shaped lips and wonder if I’ll ever get to kiss them.

I’ve become ravenous for those lips. There’s something about Annie that sets her in a
league of her own, and it has nothing to do with her inability to hear.

“My brother.” The words jag out of my mouth like a rusted knife. I pump into my

phone. He died a few weeks back—crashed into a truck. It was pretty bad, and
now he’s gone. I slide it over to her, and for the first time in weeks it feels as if a
weight has been lifted. How is that possible? I’ve talked about the accident until I was
blue in the face with Olivia, and all it brought was compounded grief.

Her features morph into horror. I’m so sorry. She’s quick to flash the response.

Please accept my condolences. I can see why you would feel that way about
motorcycles. That’s very tragic.

“It is, and I’m sorry I brought it up. Please, tell me something about yourself. You’re a

student at Whitney Briggs?” It feels strange mouthing the words to her like this, but to
keep her seated across from me, I’d mouth the entire phone book if she wanted me to.

She nods and points to me as if deflecting the question back.
Crap. How do I explain that I was on campus because I was dropping my classes?

Ratifying my new dropout status. Impressive. I know.

I take a breath and relax into a smile, something about Annie calms me all the way

around. “I’m taking a semester off.” Who knows, I might be back one day. I might be a
senior citizen, but it could happen.

That’s understandable. This is my first day, and I already feel like taking a

semester off.

I wince. My heart wrenches at the thought of her toughing it out at Briggs. You sort

of had a rough start, huh? I should know, I witnessed it. That service truck was laying
on its horn. I don’t know what the hell the driver was thinking not slowing down. I guess
in this world everyone expects the right of way—and for everyone to hear that they have
it. Thank God I was there to help. It would have destroyed me to see her hurt. Hell, it
would have destroyed her.

More than you know. She shrugs. My friends told me it would be different. I

graduated from Quincy last June. It’s a school for the deaf and hard of hearing.
I lived in the dorms during the week, so I guess you can say I was sheltered a
bit. It’s a different world at Whitney.

I nod, fighting the urge to reach over and take up her hand again. Instead, I grab my

phone. I know what you mean. It feels like a different world without my

brother. I shake my head. So what do you like to do for fun?

Her face brightens a cute shade of pink. For a second I wonder if she thinks I’m

propositioning her, not that I would mind. But a warning in my gut says don’t you dare.

Annie wriggles her phone in my direction. I read. A. Lot. BTW, I won’t let you

shame me out of loving a good literary bad boy.

“A bad boy, huh?” I type into my phone. Okay, you’re smart. I like that. What do

you like to do? What’s the greatest adventure you’ve read about that you’d like
to experience?

Her forehead wrinkles as she bites over that luscious lip again, and my boxers stir to

life. I shift in my seat trying to get out of the hard situation blooming in my jeans. Not
cool. Clearly I’m going to need a strategy to prevent unwarranted hard-ons from ruining
my good time with Annie. I shake my head at the strange idea. Annie has turned my
entire thought process upside down.

I hardly ever go to the beach, but I tend to gravitate toward books set

there. As far as adventures go I’d say hot air balloons.

I whip out a response. As soon as it warms up consider us at the beach. As for

Hot air balloons—that sounds perfect, there’s a place near my brother’s ranch.
Wyatt—my older brother. Benji, the one who passed away was older, too, but
just by eleven months. My grandma used to say my parents didn’t let the sheets cool,
a disgusting visual for me at any age. But my grandma, my mother, my brother, they’re
all gone now.

She gives a pained smile.
He liked to lord it over me, I flash her the phone once again. “My parents didn’t

exactly cool the sheets.” Stupid. I cringe. I’m sure my grandmother is cringing somewhere
as well. “Sorry, TMI.”

Her chest trembles with a quiet laugh, and it makes the whole experience feel as if

she just stepped out of a silent movie. My heart breaks for her ten times harder at the
thought of never hearing her laugh.

She holds her phone my way. No, that’s okay. I don’t mind. In fact, I’d love to

hear more about your brother. And as for the hot air balloon, that sounds like
fun. I’m afraid of heights though. She twists her lips as I read it.

I open my mouth to say something just as the phone buzzes in her hand. Annie holds

up a svelte long finger as she reads the incoming text. Her hair falls over her shoulder,
shiny, healthy looking compared to the over-processed shit I’m used to. Before Benji died
I bedded everything that moved. He hated that about me. He was the one wanting
something better for me. It was his death that knocked me off my game once and for all.
A dull smile rides up my cheek at the thought. Benji always was the voice of reason.

Annie pulls her shoulders to her ears. That was my brother. I have two. They can

be a bit overprotective.

“Sounds like a fair warning.” Brothers. Now that’s unchartered territory for me.
I told them I was having coffee with a perfect stranger. Emphasis on the

perfect. She averts her eyes in a playful manner. I’m just playing. I really do think
you’re nice, but I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.

“Oh? I was sort of hoping you were.” I push the words from my lips nice and slow,

putting in an extra effort to seduce her.

Her mouth opens as she blushes ten shades deeper.
Annie shakes her head as she types something out. I’m just not into boys right

now.

“I get it.” I rest my chin on my hand. “You’re going through a girl phase,” I tease. I

really do get what she’s saying, but I’m not buying the brushoff she’s trying to sell. I very
much want Annie to be into boys. This boy specifically would be a nice start. And who
knows? Maybe even a nice stop.

Annie shakes her head frantically. Her lips quiver from a smile to a look of fright as

she spastically writes out a response.

I take that back. I am totally into boys. But right now I prefer them

between the covers of a book. She takes back her phone and types something else
out. Actually, on my Kindle. I’m sort of an e-book hoarder.

“Boys in books, huh?” I don’t bother hiding my amusement. That’s okay. I prefer

my girls between the covers, too. I hold back a smile as I flash my response.

Annie averts her eyes at my feeble attempt at humor.
What do you like to read? I flash my phone before taking it back. Let me guess,

you’re a little heavy on romance right now?

Annie holds back a laugh and gives a single nod.
“That’s cool.” I type away. It just means I have a lot to live up to. I think I’m

up for the challenge.

Her eyes widen a moment, a vibrant shade of blue with just enough lavender to make

her seem unreal. I don’t think I’ve seen such beautiful eyes before. I could write a song
about them. In fact, I know I will. I reach across the table and pick up her hand again
wondering why we have two feet of lacquered wood between us. I hope to God my tried-
as-hell brain hasn’t manufactured her. I’ve felt madness skirting around the edges of my
psyche since Benji died and with Annie being so perfect I have to wonder if it’s finally
settled in.

Maybe it’s time to give the romance novels a rest and live one. I show her my

screen.

A pair of beefed up dudes speed in our direction, and it’s not until they’re upon us do I

realize it’s just Bryson and Holt.

“What’s up?” Shit. “Was I supposed to do another set?” The last thing I need is to fuck

up the gig at the bar. The guys and I all need it right now. It doesn’t pay much, but it’s
bolstered the sales of our indie album one hundred percent from zero so that’s
something.

“You tell us what’s up.” Holt plucks me out of my seat by the jacket, and I push him

off as gently as I can without knocking him out the window. “Dude, that’s our sister. We
don’t want to see your fucking hands on her, got it?”

“What?” I glance to Annie who’s standing by my side. She’s pissed, and I can tell

slightly afraid of where things might go from here. I hold my hands up in surrender. “I get
it. Look, we were just having coffee. I swear that’s all it was.” And by the looks of things,
that’s all it’ll ever be.

Bryson’s chest expands twice the size of a refrigerator. “Look, we get it. You can have

who you want when you want—just know Annie is off your hit list.” He pulls her in, and
she’s quick to sign to the two them, angry and stiff words that I can only guess spell out
I’m pissed.

Holt shakes his head at her. “We’re leaving together, and that’s that.” He turns toward

the door. “Stay away from Annie if you know what’s good for both you and your band.”

They shuttle her out the door so quick there’s no time for goodbye.
That’s okay. I don’t plan on saying goodbye to Annie anytime soon. It’s funny how

Holt had the balls to threaten both me and my band, but he had to turn his head away
from Annie to do it.

I can take her brothers. For Annie, I’d take on an entire football team. Nothing is

going to stand between us and that hot air balloon ride I owe her.

Annie glances back at me through the window as they cross the street. It looks like

her day ended on a crap note just the way it started, only this was one collision I couldn’t
pull her out of. I hate to break it to Bryson and Holt, but they can’t hold onto her forever.

I have a feeling she doesn’t want them to.

The undercarriage of a 57 Chevy Impala is a thing of beauty. It’s a powerhouse like no
other, and, if I had my way, this right here would be my one and only ride. As it stands
I’ve got a truck, newer, raised just a touch too high by the previous douche of an owner.
The impossible-to-remove dent in the fender was also an added bonus I acquired at
purchase. It was Danny’s clunker. Danny has been the Sin’s drummer for the last three

years. Benji slapped the skins before that, then we argued, and that was the end of his
run with the band. Benji and I didn’t argue much, but, when we did, it always ended with
a dramatic shift in the course of our lives. The last one ended his.

I roll from under the car and pull out my phone. It’s quarter after five, practice is at

eight, so I’ve got time to shower, grab a bite and figure out how I’m going to find Annie
again. I can’t shake that girl out of my head, and, believe me, I’ve tried. I think maybe
this self-imposed female drought has caused me to unnaturally latch onto her, but, the
truth is, she seems like the only bright spot I’ve had in my life in months. Just one hit,
just a few minutes with Annie was enough to pump me with the desire to open my eyes
this morning. I hop to my feet and clean up my work area. I’ve been at the garage now
going on seven months.

Joe, the manager, heads over and I can feel my stomach twisting like bungee cords.
“You got it?” He’s big and burly, always with a beer in one hand and his palm out with

the other. By it he means the rent. Benji and I split the rent, but, now that he’s gone,
there’s no way I can swing it.

“Nope, I don’t have it man.” I glance across the street at the junkyard. Tiger, the

Doberman Pincher barks up a storm at a passerby, and I wonder which old car carcass I’ll
have to crawl into just to store my shit.

“All right.” He flicks his fingers. “I told you three weeks ago I’d give you time, but now

I see you’re just taking advantage of me. Gimme the keys tonight before the sheriff gets
dragged into this.”

“Done.” I dig into my pocket and take the rusted out key off my chain as a show of

good will.

“Dude, I didn’t want to do it. I had a brother that died. I understand the shit you’re

going through.” He wipes his forehead down with his arm. “Get your stuff out by
tomorrow. I’m changing the locks come morning.” He picks up his tool bag and heads to
the back of the shop. “Times are tough for everybody. I know you’re a good guy. Your
brother was a good guy, but good guys don’t always pay the rent, and I’ve got a
mortgage, five kids—two in college. I can’t go on being Mr. Nice Guy. My wife’s got my
balls in a vise. She’s got gallbladder surgery in two weeks. The beat goes on. I need
someone who pays the piper.”

“I hear you.” I wipe the grime off my face with my shoulder. “You’re still gonna let me

hang out at the garage, right?” I give him a mock fist bump. “I don’t have classes, so you
can up my hours if you want.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you pick up Saturdays, half the crew bitches they need the day

off. No overtime, though. I have to hang onto what little of my balls that I have left.”

“Got it,” I say walking out of the grease pit where I’ll be spending the rest of my days.

“Appreciate it.”

Appreciate it. I shake my head at the lie. I’d give anything to have turned in my

monkey wrench. How did I go from a business major to college dropout groveling to work
on weekends? A patch of dark clouds moves overhead unnaturally quick, and I can’t help
think that the world—all of time—is speeding by too fast for me to feel safe anymore. I’d
work seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day just to have five more minutes with
Benji. First thing I’d tell him is to stay off that damn bike.

I kick the tire on a Harley on my way out.
“Watch it!” Joe shouts from behind, but this time I don’t apologize. I head upstairs and

throw all of my crap, and that of my dead brother’s, into six oversized trash bags and toss
them in the back of my truck just as the rain lets go of all of its pent-up grief. By the time
I make it to downtown Jepson, the back of my truck looks like a swimming pool. There’s a
metaphor in there somewhere that I’m too lazy to pick through.

Jepson is one of the fastest growing metropolitan cities around, and, like any

metropolitan city, if you make enough left turns, you’ll end up in the hood, AKA the crap
neighborhood I honed most of my life skills in.

There it is, the clapboard bungalow I once called home. The lights are on in the tiny

two bedroom stacked house that’s more vertical than it is horizontal. The houses on the
street are so narrow it’s become a haunt for modern day hippies, the artsy fartsy type
that sit out front getting stoned all day, looking to the sky for inspiration. Pops is sort of
old school around here in that he bought the house with his first wife. She died of ovarian
cancer, and he’s stuck his head in a bottle ever since. Enter AA and that’s where poor
unfortunate soul number two comes in—my mother. She was his AA leader and,
apparently, not a very good one. She hooked up with Ronald Daniels, dreamer
extraordinaire, until death chased her down two years ago through an untimely stroke. It
was a freak thing, much like her marriage to my father. And now she and Benji are
together in the hereafter. I’m not sure why I find so much comfort in that other than the
fact they don’t have to worry about things like rent anymore or whether or not to risk the
band’s only big break by taking a sweet girl out in a hot air balloon.

I make a face at the tired looking house with its chipped paint and broken screen as I

head on in. Not locked, no big surprise there.

“Pops,” I shout. A cigarette burns in the ashtray on the coffee table. That seems to be

a decorating staple around here. It’s a wonder he hasn’t long since burned the damn
place down. The living room is stifled with smoke, and I fan the air trying to catch a
decent breath.

“In here,” he grumbles from the hall as the toilet flushes. “What the hell you doing?”

He sputters and coughs as he stumbles out of the bathroom. He’s thinner than he was

just a few weeks ago, granted we don’t see each other but a few times a year. He’s aged
decades the last few years alone. His hair is all but gone, long and gray on the sides. He’s
shirtless, his chest sunken and sickly looking. His eyes are ringed with dark circles, his lips
purple and bloated. He’s a walking corpse, looking as shitty as I feel.

“Just dropping a few things off if you don’t mind.”
“Try again. I don’t need any more of your mess. I’ve got a boarder. A man named Jeff.

Decent guy. Pays rent, too.”

“Relax. I’m not looking for a place to stay.”
“Good”—he barks as he passes me by. His body odor smothers me, ripe as an onion

with the welcome hint of vodka begging to sanitize the air. “Because you’re not going to
get it. I’ve got enough trouble without having you on my back.”

I head over to my old room and crack open the door. Bunks are still intact. Both

made. A pile of dirty clothes sit in one corner. An older laptop sits on the desk, and it
draws a frown from me.

“Out!” He picks up a broom with half the bristles missing and jabs me in the ribs. “I

know what you’re up to, and it ain’t happening. Once you turned eighteen you weren’t my
problem anymore. You got that? You see that crack you just crawled in from? You’re
welcome to crawl right back out.”

I pause a moment looking right at his glassy eyes. “You’re wasted. I can smell the

booze from here. Don’t bother calling to apologize tomorrow. It’s already forgiven.” I
head for the door. “So about the shed.”

“No!” he roars, slamming the door behind me.
The rain presses down around me, but I don’t bother moving for a good five minutes.
After all, I’ve got no place to go.

P E R F E C T

S T R A N G E R

A N N IE

igital Studios is quickly becoming my favorite and least favorite class. Tristan stands

by my side as we dissect a camera from yesteryear while the professor explains the
marvels of technological advances.

So you weren’t telling the truth? Tristan signs in lieu of what the professor is saying. I

guess that’s the advantage of signing. We can have a conversation regarding just about
anything right here in the open. That was just some random dude?

I smile up at him. It took Tristan a few good hours to work up the nerve to go there,

the least I can do is give him the truth. I wonder what my brothers would think if I dated
someone like Tristan? Not that I’m dating Blake. I hardly know the guy. I can, however,
attest to the fact he’s got a chest made of steel and a grip of iron when it comes to
saving a damsel in distress. A wry smile creeps up my lips. I happen to have an aversion
to weak heroines—at least when I read. And here I’ve inadvertently become one in my
own story. The thought makes me want to vomit. I’m not weak. In no way am I a damsel
in distress. Yesterday was just a fluke. Blake just so happened to be there when I needed
him. My stomach explodes with heat as if letting me in on some deep, dark secret. I
glance down. I get it. I’m hungry for Blake on a psychological—correction, sexual level.
Well, too bad. That’s not what I signed up for this semester. I’m at Whitney Briggs to get
an education, not a broken heart.

He’s not my anything, I sign. He’s more like a stalker. I wince because, for one, I’m

totally joking. I met him yesterday morning, and it’s just a fluke that he’s the lead singer
of the 12 Deadly Sins. My brothers and I own the Black Bear, so I sort of had to be there.

Sort of had to be there? My lips twitch at how defensive I came across. So what if

Tristan knows I’ve got the hots for the guy? My body flares with heat. God. I try to get my
bearings. I do not have the hots for anybody. That’s Kaya’s territory. I’m calm and
rational, and the first to point out that lust is the hotbed in which STDs breed.

Oh, so that little get together afterwards was just a business meeting, huh? He

teases.

Sort of. My brothers and their Hulk-like aggression floods back to the forefront. I don’t

know. I don’t think I’m quite ready for a relationship just yet. How about you? I glance to
the curvy, toothy Johanna and her glittery friend Courtney who haven’t stopped their lips
from moving since they set foot into the classroom. I’ve seen the way Johanna has been
sending open invites to Tristan and to just about every other guy in the class including
the professor. I think there are a few people in this very room that might be ready to
have a relationship with you. I glance back at Johanna, and she turns quickly pretending
not to see. It’s fine. I’m used to it. For some reason being deaf has effectively been a
cloak of invisibility. When the world doesn’t know how to classify you, it renders you
invisible. It’s not just like that for me, so I try not to take it personally.

Tristan waves his hand over my face. “I’m not interested in those girls,” he says the

words extra slow, so I know he’s mouthing them. “They’re too easy.” His eyes lock onto
mine as he gives a depleted smile. “I like a little more of a challenge.”

My face floods with heat. Trust me, I’m not the challenge you’re looking for.
He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
Blake comes to mind. I wasn’t really planning to be a challenge for him. Too bad my

brothers are panning out to be just that.

For the next two days, I avoid Bryson and Holt and all of the apologetic messages they’ve
inundated my phone with.

The thick and heavenly scent of coffee lights up my senses as I collect my cup from

the barista at Hallowed Grounds. Baya and Izzy have cornered me at the student café, so
I don’t really see a way around this conversation.

Why are we doing this again?
I type into my phone. You’re both very sweet, but remember I’m a girl just

like you. Did you let anyone stand in the way of seeing my brothers? Not that I
plan on seeing Blake, but it’s the principle involved. Soon I’ll be sleeping with him just to
prove a point.

Baya’s lips take on all sorts of interesting shapes. “They want you to be happy. But

they also just want the best for you.”

Izzy types into her phone with frustration. She’s not as open to me reading her lips as

Baya. I think she’s afraid I’ll miss something. It’s hard for them to imagine their
sweet little sister dating anyone. And, in their defense, he had on guyliner. Izzy
is quick to add.

“And tattoos.” Baya nods. “Of a skull on his bicep.” She points to her arm as if the

location itself had horrible implications.

Geez, you’d think he were a serial killer in training the way they’re going on about

him.

I’ve yet to see it. You do realize that both Bry and Holt are covered in tats.

I’m thinking about getting one myself. Not really but they’re pushing me in that
direction. Right after I sleep with the guyliner, tat sporting person in question.

“Annie, no!” Baya smacks herself over the forehead as if I just threated to let a rat

gnaw off my arm. On second thought, Bryson and Holt might prefer it. “You realize you’re
going to kill your brothers.”

I let out a silent laugh before typing into my phone. Trust me, that’s not the plan.

Anyway, I really appreciate the two of you going to bat for my big bro’s. I get
it. They love me. Don’t worry, I haven’t seen the tattooed, guyliner wearing
bad boy since the big shakedown, so you can tell them they did their job. He’s
steering clear, and so am I. Graduation will come and go with my virginity still
intact. No worries here.

Izzy bites down over her lips so hard I’m afraid she’s going splatter me with blood.

“He’ll be at the Black Bear tonight.”

Baya smacks her before softening toward me. “He’s already come by asking about you

—twice.” She holds up two fingers and gives a meek shrug. “And he didn’t have any
guyliner on either time. He has very nice eyes, by the way.”

My entire body heats at the thought of those marbled eyes that look like a maple in

the spring.

Are you really into this guy? Izzy looks almost sorry for me. I think we all know I’m

doomed on some level when it comes to Blake and those gorgeous eyes.

I shake my head. I guess I wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better.

He seems pretty nice. Guyliner and all.

“What about that tutor of yours?” Baya wags her straw at me. “Frenchie? Ooh la la.”
I roll my eyes at the thought. Tristan is very nice but definitely not for me.
“How do you know he’s not for you?” she teases. Baya has enough bubbly personality

to outfit an entire sorority house.

Because I just don’t feel anything. You know—that special spark just isn’t

there. Like ever. And God knows I’ve tested the waters. I had to. How else would
I know that Blake is the only one capable of delivering that electrifying bodily response?

They both sag, nodding in unison.
“And with Mr. Guyliner?” Baya is probing for the exact answer my brothers dread to

hear. “Are you feeling that spark with him?” She says that last part extra slow.

A familiar leather jacket catches my attention near the door, and I can’t take my eyes

off it. He’s here! I shrink a little in my seat, but his wide grin finds me and warms me

from head to toe.

Baya gently kicks my foot to get my attention. “Guess who’s got a spark in her eyes?”

She’s giggling, and I’m hoping it’s low key because, quite frankly, she’s embarrassing me
to the point of bursting into flames. My entire body is ready to go up like a parched
hillside.

Blake comes up, breathless, his chest expanding and retracting at a quickened rate,

but it’s his eyes that command my undivided attention. This is usually the part where I’d
write out something witty or sarcastic, but all I can manage is a little wave.

Izzy and Baya stand simultaneously. He says something to them, but I only catch half.

Both Izzy and Baya wave as they head toward the door. Baya motions for me to call her.

God, my brothers are going to die when they hear of this. Never mind that. They’ll

appear like apparitions and Blake will die at their not-so ghostly hands.

He flashes his phone at me. Do you want to go for a drive?
“I’d love to.” I mouth the words with glee.

Blake Daniels drives a truck much like both of my brothers, so already I feel at home with
him, but, despite that, there’s something about him in general that makes me feel
comfortable. With Tristan I want to erect a wall between us, and with Blake I want to
tear it down, entomb him inside our own private city.

We drive through long stretches of Hollow Brook in all its fall glory with leaves already

steeped in shades of gold and fiery auburns. I dip my hand in my purse and sag dejected
a moment. It’s so rare that I leave the dorm without my camera, but I was in such a
hurry to get out the door this afternoon. Marley had her longtime boyfriend, William, stop
by. He’s attending school in Virginia and drove down for the long weekend. They didn’t
seem to have any problem giving an expressive display of affection while I was in the
room with them. Prior to his arrival, Marley shared an entire sexual list of demands she
plans on giving Will this weekend. She claims it’s all in the name of research for her
upcoming articles—wink, wink. She also showed me a pair of velvet handcuffs she plans
on gifting him—utilizing, both. I have a feeling I’ll need to sanitize the room with a hot
mop and bleach once he leaves. The thought of someone having sex in what amounts to
my bedroom weirds me out a bit. But I’ll admit it made me feel like I was missing
something in my life. The way Marley continually speaks of him makes it feel as if I’ve
known William for ages. William is tall, on the basketball team for good reason, sinewy
like a biker, and has a squared-off face and wire rimmed glasses. He’s undeniably
handsome with his sharp almond eyes, but something about the way his gaze lingers on

the girls in the common room doesn’t sit well with me.

Blake drives us up a narrow path that extends past the Witch’s Cauldron, past the

narrow river that Baya almost drowned in last year, and a mean shiver runs through me
when I see it. I can’t imagine how scary that must have been for her. Being submerged in
icy waters, floating downstream like a twig. The girl who pushed her in, some idiot
named Aubree, is sitting in Danbury prison right now. Laney keeps referring to it as camp
cupcake.

Blake drives up what feels like a sheer cliff side until we hit a clearing, and he finds a

bare spot to park the truck. He hops out and helps me down, taking my hand and not
letting go. It’s freezing out—like North Pole freezing—like the Ice Bar freezing, but I
suppose that’s to be expected when you’re at the highest peak in a fifty-mile radius. The
Ice Bar is one of the three bars my brothers and I took over from my father. It’s my least
favorite for the very reason I hate being cold, but somehow being cold with Blake doesn’t
seem so bad. His fingers fold over mine, warm and assuring, but mostly strong, and I
marvel at their girth. I have to admit it took my breath away that first night he took me
by the hand when we crossed the street. I’m plenty used to people treating me like a
child, but somehow that made me feel anything but childlike. In a strange way, it felt like
he was treating me like a woman.

I pull out my phone. You don’t have to hold my hand. I promise I won’t run

away. After I show him the text it occurs to me that sarcasm doesn’t translate so well in
the written form. Great. Now he’s going to think I’m repulsed by him. Good going.

His head inches back as he holds in a laugh. “You’re funny.” He pulls the stray hairs

from my eyes. “And beautiful.” The moment grows all too serious. Blake carefully lays my
hand by my side again as he taps something into his phone. But I wasn’t holding onto
you because I thought you might run away. He licks his lips looking past me a
moment unable to finish his thought.

I’ve never had a boy tell me how they feel before, not that I expect any feelings from

someone I’ve known less than a week.

The phone shakes as I hold it to him. I don’t know why I said that. I like it. I

like holding your hand. His brows furrow as if this confused him on some level. I
fumble with my phone. I’m guessing you usually bypass the handholding phase.
My lips curve to the side. I get it. And, for the record, I am not on that playing
field. Sorry to disappoint you. Holding hands is about as racy as this girl gets.

He lets out a laugh so loud it vibrates over me like a ray of sunlight in this icy terrain.

Blake has perfect teeth, a clean smile with no flaws. He could be in a dental ad with that
radiant grin, those stunning green eyes. He’s going to make some girl very happy
someday, and my heart sinks to my feet because I very much doubt it will be me.

So you’ve never been kissed? He slings his arm around my shoulders as we walk

over to the lookout.

I shake my head. That’s about as far as I go with that answer. There’s no way I’m

committing that to an electronic device. Deleting it just wouldn’t be enough.

We walk to the edge, and the breath is knocked right out of me. I press my hand to

my chest at the majesty of what lies beneath us. All of Hollow Brook, all of Jepson,
sprawls out before us like a miniature Dickens village at Christmas. Blake points to the
left at the endless fields of birch and maples, the oaks in all their yellow and orange fury.
The earth is crowned with their glory. It’s beautiful. I couldn’t have asked for a more
spectacular view.

This is amazing. Thank you for sharing this with me.
His eyes smile first. His lips are slow to follow. “You’re welcome.” The warmth of his

body against mine enlivens the entire left side of me as his subtle cologne tingles my
senses.

I type into my phone hoping he won’t notice the fact I’m shaking from his touch. I

feel like a fool for leaving my camera behind today. This would have made for
some amazing shots.

“We’ll come back.” Blake steps in front of me as his arms find a home around my

waist, and every last cell in my body begs to detonate. “A lot.”

A fire rips through me when he says the word we. I’m sure it means very little but

something about there being a “we” makes me giddy and frightened all at the same time.

My heart pulsates like a jackrabbit about to have its ears lopped off, and I sway on my

feet at the thought of Blake coming in for a kiss. I wouldn’t fight it. Bryson and Holt blink
through my mind, and I bat them away like rabid dogs. Down brothers. This one is mine.

Blake picks up a stray evergreen branch and dusts off the bench behind us. We take a

seat facing one another as the icy breeze slices through our clothes. The wind sweeps
back his thick, dark hair, and his open face smiles wide at me. He is unmistakably
gorgeous. Blake Daniels is a god among men, and he’s all but hauled me to his
mountaintop to ravage me with those amber eyes, his devil-is-in-the-details grin. Okay,
so there’s a slim chance of ravishing, but a girl can dream.

Blake penetrates me with his gaze. He’s seeing me, really seeing me. I glance down,

embarrassed by the moment. I’m not sure how he feels about all this silence. To me it’s
normal, comforting on some level, but to someone like him, someone surrounded by girls,
by loud music, and who knows what else, I’m sure it’s heavy as the forest behind him. As
soothing as silence can be, it can be deafeningly loud, and the irony isn’t lost on me.

Blake tucks his finger under my chin and gently lifts my face until I’m looking right at

him again.

“What are you thinking?”
A small moan vibrates in my throat, and I secretly hate he got that out of me. Just

watching his mouth move, the way his lips curve over every letter makes me fall that
much deeper into this strange abyss.

“It’s silly,” I mouth.
“I promise not to laugh.”
I click into my phone. I was just wondering if all this awkward silence was

strange to you. You know, uncomfortable. I swallow hard waiting for his reply. I
don’t ever remember having a conversation like this with anyone before, except maybe
Marley after we moved in together, and that ended in a laugh fest. But nothing about this
feels funny. It feels deathly serious, and it scares me in a new way. It’s as if so much
more rode on his answer than simply his discomfort.

“Not at all.” He leans in, his eyes still seared over mine. Blake scoots in until I can feel

the warmth of his body, and his head edges ever so close to mine. “Tell me about those
books you read.”

I swallow hard, my heart knocking against my chest as if it wants to be let out.
Shit. I thought that was it. That the big one was coming, and I was finally going to

test out exactly how soft Blake’s lips were at last.

“The books?” I mouth. Okay, I’ll admit he threw me for a loop. What do you want to

know?

I went to the library and looked into a few romance novels. His smile defuses

as he holds out his phone. They weren’t as sweet and innocent as I thought they
would be.

My chest bucks with a laugh as I bury my face in my hands. I come up for air, and he

tweaks his brows seductively. They’re dark and broad, and I want nothing more than to
trace them out with my finger. As wild as some of the novels I’ve read are, I’m sure Blake
has lived out ten times that much and more. Just the thought makes me uneasy.

He makes a face into his phone before showing me. For a girl who’s never been

kissed, that’s some pretty serious stuff.

Maybe, but a girl has to start somewhere. I reply as quick as my fingers will let

me. In all reality I’m off to a pretty slow start. Even Kaya, my lifelong, tied to the hip,
best friend has done the deed with her longtime boyfriend. But in Kaya’s defense they
were in love, and he was tired of waiting. They broke up three months later. And that,
right there, is my worst nightmare in a nutshell—giving it away to someone who is willing
to forget you just three months later.

“You might want to pace yourself when it comes to reality.” He motions to his lips and

shrugs as if asking if I understood. I offer a quick thumbs up before responding.

Why do you care if I pace myself? I offer a challenging smile. Do you pace

yourself?

Blake gives a long blink because we both know I’ve caught him red handed. Blake

Daniels isn’t the pacing type, and he all but admitted it. The wind settles a moment, and
the trees stop swaying in the breeze long enough to create a dark, emerald backdrop to
Blake’s errant good looks. It’s safe to say Blake doesn’t need to pace himself when it
comes to girls. He can travel as fast as he wants—he most likely does.

“I’m not you. I’m not good at pacing myself. And, trust me, you don’t want to be me.”

He blows out a breath as he looks to the horizon. Blake pulls out his phone again. After
my brother died I sort of slowed down. The guys in the band like to call the
girls who flock the stage ‘rock candy.’ Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of
rock candy.

Rock candy? As in groupies? Sounds tasty. And slightly sexist but that doesn’t

seem to bother me.

“Yes, groupies.” He reaches over and wraps his fingers through my hair a moment

before letting it fall to my shoulder. My knees go weak at the simple action, and my heart
starts to hammer in my chest again. A part of me wants to tell him he’s already got those
romance novels beat, but I don’t dare boost his ego. Yet. “And I promise it’s nothing to be
intrigued about.”

Yeah? What if I wanted to be one of those rock candy girls?
His smile digs in deep and devious, a hint of lust in his eyes that makes me want to

figure out how to turn it up like the heat of a dangerous fire.

“I think you’re better off being you.” His features dim to pitch like a candle the wind

just blew out.

What’s wrong? I scoot in close, and now it’s me running my fingers through his hair.

It’s softer than I imagined, thicker, and slick enough to make me glide right through it.

Blake leans back with a perplexed expression that lets me know he doesn’t quite

know how to put it into words. I guess I’m not rock candy material. Not that I find this
revelation shocking, but it does make me wonder what he’s doing with me.

“Sorry.” I mouth as I pull my fingers from his neck.
“No, it isn’t that.” He covers my hand with his and warms it against his chest before

hitting his phone. It’s just—it makes me sad that you weren’t able to hear the
music.

I sag into him with a tired grin before jotting down a note. Is that how you cast

your spell on all those unsuspecting girls? The truth is, I didn’t need to hear
anything last night. I was already under his spell from the moment he pinned me to that
bush. It would figure. I’m probably the only girl on the planet who could find herself in the

bushes with a gorgeous boy and have it be totally chaste. My brothers should be proud.
I’m the hero of virgins everywhere.

He belts out a laugh, and I can feel his body shaking with joy.
“No, I promise that’s not it.” He lets go to type into his cellphone. But if I told you

my secrets, things might get dicey up here, and for sure your brothers would
want to kill me.

Fair enough. Maybe you can lend me the lyric sheets to some of your songs?

I would love to know what you’re singing up there.

He smiles into the phone. Done.
The sun starts to dip into the horizon, and he motions for us to head to the overlook

one more time. Blake puts his arm around my shoulder once again, and it feels natural,
not at all intrusive. If Tristan were bold enough to try it, I might be moved to fling him
over the side of the mountain myself. But, with Blake, I find myself leaning in closer,
yearning for the heat from his body to keep me warm. I want to take it all in—all of him.
My face turns toward his as I inhale his fresh, soapy scent, the mint streaming from his
breath. Blake turns just enough, and our noses almost touch. My stomach stings in a wild
pang of heat. A chill runs through me from head to toe, and I feel light headed and
euphoric all at the same time. His gorgeous eyes bear into mine, and no matter how
much my stomach demands to drop to middle earth, I can’t look away. My heart rattles
out a threat, and, right about now, I don’t care if it leaps from my throat.

“Are you going to let me kiss you?” he says the words slowly, and I have to laugh

because I realize he desperately wanted me to understand them.

I shake my head.
“Why not?” He winces, genuinely perplexed. I’m pretty sure Blake Daniels isn’t too

familiar with the word no.

I pull back and dive into my phone just trying to get my bearings. Because I hardly

know you. You’re a perfect stranger, remember? I try to ignore the fact this perfect
stranger has his arm wrapped around my shoulder.

He motions for my phone, and I slip it into his hand. You drove here with me—

alone. Blake holds back the grin blooming on his face. If anything I’ve amused him.

I take my phone. I never said I was smart.
“You’re smart.” Blake runs his hand through my hair before typing again. You want it

to be special—with the right person—memorable.

Which romance novel taught you that? I ask, trying desperately not to flirt. But

I’m flirting, and I don’t care how desperate it comes across.

“This one.” He tucks his fingers to his heart. “I want that for you, too.”
A breath hitches in my throat. Blake wants that for me, too. I float in his words as we

watch the sun set in a show of pink and gold until the sky bursts to life in a rich shade of
amber.

We drive back to campus in a comfortable silence.
If he asked for that kiss a second time, I would have given it to him.

B L A K E

he couch at Danny’s fraternity holds the comfort of granite and smells like piss and

vomit. I’m pretty sure it has an extensive sexual history and more than likely has
transmitted a few exciting diseases all on its own. It’s disgusting as ass crack—not that
I’m complaining. The frat boys were nice enough to let me store my crap in their attic, so,
at least for now, the Hefty bags that hold what’s left of my brother and me are warm and
dry. I’ve used their laundry room, their showers, and raided their fridge a time too many,
so any minute now I expect to get the big heave ho.

The band and I played at the Black Bear twice this week, and both times Annie has

showed up with her trusty camera. She sits at the same table with her back against the
wall, and I’ve grown accustomed to turning toward her when I pour my soul out in song.
Turning toward Annie is like turning toward the light. It’s natural. Every inclination in me
is to turn my being toward her. She’s pulling something out of me, demons, angels.
They’re all in there fighting for dominance over my weary soul, and only Annie can get
me where I need to be. Funny, I’ve never gifted a girl that much power before but then
again it isn’t really a gift, she just had it. She has me.

My phone rings pulling me out of my momentary trance, and I pluck it out. It’s Wyatt.

Him I’ve been avoiding. Not sure why. Hell, I know why. He’s going to ask how I’m doing,
and I’ve never been a good liar. I’ve never been good at talking through my feelings or
any other shit like that, so I let it go to voicemail. I’ll try to deal with him this weekend.

I shoot a text to Olivia and tell her I’ll be over in an hour. She texts right back.
I’m in town. Meet me at the donut shop on Central. I want a dozen in my

stomach yesterday. I’m having a serious craving for something glazed. You
have anything you want me to dip in sugar and lick?

I’d laugh if it I knew she weren’t serious. Just a dozen? Pace yourself. See you in

a few.

I take a quick shower before examining my arm and back in the fogged mirror. The

day we put Benji in the ground is the same day I went over to Sam at Tenacious Tats and
had him do me up. I wanted an exact replica of what my brother had—skull and cross

bones, ivy dotted with roses running down my body. It was the only way I could think to
remember him outside of looking at my own reflection. I wanted more than his face. I
wanted a piece of him, something tangible.

It’s cold out, bitter, icy to the bone kind of weather that threatens to turn your limbs

into icicles before snapping them in half. I never was good at dressing for the weather
with all those layers and jackets. I’d feel like a scarecrow that’s just been stuffed when
my mother shoved Ben and me out the door. God, I miss her. I can trace every shit thing
that’s happened in my life back to the day they put her in that casket.

Olivia is already seated inside when I arrive. Her fingers dip happily into a pink box,

and, judging by the size, she went for more than a dozen. She’s dressed in a black and
white polka dot coat with a giant red bow pressed into her dark cherry died hair. For as
long as I’ve known her, Olivia has been perfecting that rockabilly look—winged eyeliner,
bright red lips, the victory roll in her hair when she can nail it.

“Hey—you look beautiful,” I say as she stands to greet me. Olivia is pretty, not

stunning like Annie, but she can make just about anyone look twice despite her growing
belly. “Look at you. God, it’s been two weeks, and you’re out like a torpedo.”

“First one—they say you show later. I’m just glad it’s still in there for the ride, you

know what I mean?” She growls out the words like maybe she’s kidding. We’ve been
down this road before, so I don’t say anything. Olivia has had her fair share of scares. She
pulls me into a tight embrace. After the funeral, Olivia and I clung to one another for far
too long, and I was worried we might fall back into old habits. It would have been easy,
me with Olivia again, but, thankfully, Annie showed up, and the fleeting thought left me. I
was never into Olivia like I should have been. We were using one another, trying to see
who could hurt each other the most, and, now, there’s a baby who will be here by
Christmas. The list of tragedies in our story seems never ending.

I take a seat across from her. “So what’s the news? Baby doing good?”
“Too good.” She moves a little slower adjusting herself with a look of general

discomfort. “Everything’s on track. I’m over halfway through, and it still feels like I’ve
been pregnant for two years. And before you ask, no I haven’t smoked one damn
cigarette.” She shoves a donut into her face as retribution.

“Good. I don’t want those cancer sticks near you or your baby.”
Her eyes narrow in on mine as she slows her chewing. She washes down her bite with

the opened carton of milk in front of her.

“This is your kid, buddy.” Olivia doesn’t blink. This is poker. Me against Olivia, and we

both know the hands we’ve been dealt. “That’s the deal, remember?”

A dull laugh huffs through me. “That’s the deal.” I promised to raise this child on my

own, and I intend to. Olivia isn’t exactly gunning for mother of the year even in this early

stage of the game. “When the time comes, I’m there for the both of you.” I pull out a wad
of bills from my pocket—what would have been my rent. “Just like I’m here for the two of
you now.”

“If our track record persists, given enough time, you’ll end up breaking both our

hearts.” She flicks a finger in the air. “We both know you’re the heart breaking type.” Her
lips invert, and for the first time since the funeral, I see a modicum of pain in her eyes.
“You ever think about you and me?”

“Yeah, I have.” I reach over and take up her hands in mine. “Look—um, there isn’t

going to be a you and me.” I try to dish the words out as tenderly as possible. Olivia has
been known for her mood swings, but her hormones have transformed her into a nuclear
missile ready and willing to detonate on command. It happens regularly, but I’m never
ready for it.

“What do you mean, sweet pea?” She spits the words out laced with venom. There’s a

look of vengeance brewing in her eyes. “I need you, babe. You loved me once, you can
do it again.” She leaves out the part about loving me, and a tiny smile cinches up my
cheek. That’s Olivia all over.

Despite her cold, black heart, I was hoping she might find it in her to love this baby.

Every child needs a mother, and, deep down, I was hoping Olivia could rise to the
occasion. As much as she’s professed this child as a curse, I’m pretty sure once it arrives
and she sees it for the angel it is, the curse of pain in her life will be broken.

“Olivia, look at me.” Her eyes sail from one corner of the room to the other as they

swell with tears. “I’m not the one for you. I can never be who you want me to be. I
wouldn’t even want to try.”

She runs her fingers over my left arm. “That’s not what your body says.”
Olivia was with me after the funeral when I got my body mapped out to match my

brother’s. She held my hand for five hours straight as I gritted through the pain, and I
very much intend on returning the favor when she goes into labor.

“My body is a tribute to Benji. You and me together would be a lie.”
“You made promises, Blake.”
“And I intend to keep them.”
Olivia sets her gaze dead ahead as tears slide down her face. “I want your name on

all the legal documents once the baby is born.”

“What?”
“You heard me. If you intend to keep your word, you’ll step up in the exact way you

said you would. I don’t see why you shouldn’t do that.” Her gaze drifts to mine with the
dare.

“All right. I’ll do it. You realize that you’ll be surrendering that child to me legally.” Not

that I object. In fact, in a strange way, I feel a sense of comfort. In the back of my mind,
I was half afraid she’d pick up one day and disappear with a piece of my beating heart.

“Oh, honey”—she gets up and dusts the crumbs off her lap—“consider yourself lucky

that I’m not taking you down much more colorful legal avenues.” She scoops up her pink
box and flicks the empty carton of milk with her finger. “Who knows? You might get more
than you ever dreamed of in your Christmas stocking this year.” She stalks off in her
shockingly high heels, her pantyhose with the sharp black line up the back.

Holy crap. She’s batshit. I dig my palm into my eye a moment. I can really pick ‘em. I

get up and take a breath before heading back out into the cold, bleak world. Annie is an
improvement in my taste in women by miles.

Annie—just the thought of her puts that goofy grin right back on my face. I wonder

what she would think of Olivia. It’s probably best the two don’t mix. Olivia would eat
Annie for breakfast, quite literally at this point. But if I want Annie in my life, she’ll have
to know eventually. I suppose the truth is always inevitable in the end. Unfortunately, for
me, this truth ties me to Olivia for the rest of my days.

Sometimes the truth is a bitch in red heels.

Three days go by without seeing Annie. It’s painful, and the world slowly reverts to its
tortured state without her. As it stands we’re only seeing one another after the shows,
and, since the band performs just a couple of nights a week, that limits it to less time
than my body demands. No performance at the Black Bear equals no Annie, so I head
over to campus and straight for the Student Union. One of the guys from the frat I’ve
inadvertently taken residence with is working behind the desk. He’s got his funhouse
glasses on, the ones that look as if they’re pixilated. His hair is dyed black with a blue tint
right along with his eyebrows.

“What’s up?” I nod trying to seem inconspicuous. “A friend of mine left her lens cap

behind, and I sort of need to get it to her. I don’t have her number. You mind telling me
her schedule? I think she mentioned a photography class.” It’s true, Annie left her lens
cap behind at the bar last Tuesday, and I know for a fact she’s losing her mind trying to
find it. If it were anyone else, I would have simply given it to the bartender—one of her
brothers. But it’s not anyone else, it’s Annie, the girl who occupies my mind 24/7 and
brought a well-needed balm to my heart these past few weeks. It doesn’t change the fact
that losing Benji still hurts like shit, but she sure numbs the sting.

“Lens cap, huh?” He takes it from me a second. “I know that one. It’s a pricey

camera.” He starts hacking away at the keyboard. “What’s her name? I’ll tell you where

to find her.”

“Annie Edwards,” it rolls off my tongue, and I want to laugh or smile like a fucking

loon for the hundredth time today. Annie is like a drug I haven’t taken a hit off of for a
good long while, hell, ever. I slap my hand to the back of my neck and wait as he tracks
her down. My body heats up because I can feel time closing in the gap between our last
meeting and the next.

“Looks like she’s just wrapping up with Digital Studios. If you miss her there you can

catch her at Prescott Hall. That’s her dorm.” He frowns. “You’re not a stalker or anything
are you?”

“Nope, but if I were, you’d be fired.” I mock shoot him as I head out the door.

“Where’s that Digital Design class at?”

“Digital Studios. Two buildings to your left—Doris Hall first floor, room B14.”
“B14, got it.” I fly outside, hell, float at the prospect of seeing her again, sans her big

bros watching over us with their bloated frames, their menacing growls. Then there’s
Baya and Izzy hovering like a pair of old aunts. A wry smile floats to my lips. I like that
Annie is well looked after, cared for. God knows if anyone deserves to be treated that
way it’s her. I make a beeline for her classroom just as a stream of bodies pour out the
door. A pair of familiar sorority girls giggle at one another and pause once they spot me.
I’ve seen them at the bar, front row, lots of cleavage, lots of leg—hot pink thongs if I’m
not mistaken—always ready and willing for a one-night stand.

“Hey, you’re that guy from 12 Deadly Sins!” The tall one with an elongated neck and

chunky mascara squeals. “You think I can get you to sign something for me?”

“Sure.” I glance past her in search of Annie. I’d hate to miss her because I needed to

get my ego stroked. The truth is I don’t mind doing stuff like this. One day I’m going to
hang up the mike, and all these ego-stroking moments will come to an end. “I don’t have
a pen.”

She pulls one out of her bag like a rabbit out of a hat and proceeds to unbutton her

blouse.

“Right here, big boy.” She dips her finger into her cushioned flesh.
I glance past her, still no sign of Annie. What the hell. I’ll make it quick. It’s not the

first tit I’ve scrawled my name over. Signed a few more interesting places, too.

A flash goes off in the distance.
I glance over as I’m finishing up, and Annie waves with the camera in her hand.
“Sorry,” I whisper, and she brushes it off like it’s no big deal.
“I’m Johanna Woodley.” The blonde shoves her hand in my face.
“And I’m Courtney Sage.” The shorter one thrusts her arm at me, and, I happily sign

the appendage because, thankful, it’s rather G-rated in nature.

“Nice to meet you both.” I try to make my way to Annie and the tall one, Johanna,

blocks my path. “There’s a get together tonight at Regency House if you want to hang
out.”

Regency. Isn’t that the Frat I’m staying at?
“Thanks for the offer, but I might have plans.” I smile at Annie as I make my way past

them. “There’s a very big problem—a tragedy.”

“What?” She whispers it low, and I hear just the hint of her sweet voice and savor it. I

love it. I’ll take any sound she wants to give me.

“I don’t have your number.”
“Smooth, Romeo.” The preppy I met in the bar a few weeks back pops up behind her.
I don’t bother answering him since he didn’t have the balls to say it in front of Annie.
She motions for me to hand her my phone, and I happily comply.
“So, like, you’re seeing her, huh?” He asks from over her shoulder. Annie must have

caught a whiff of him because she turns and gives him a look before signing something in
his direction.

He rolls his eyes and signs back before taking off.
“See you later, sweetheart!” I call after him.
The hall clears, and it’s just Annie and me, the way I like it.
She hands my phone back with the message, Now you have my number. Tragedy

averted.

“Thank you.” I pluck the lens cap out of my pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.”
Her mouth rounds into a perfect O before she lunges at me with a quick hug.
“Whoa,” I say with my hands still pleasantly touching her waist. I pull back so she can

see my lips. “I might need to steal that again.”

Her lashes flutter, and I die a little. Her cheeks deepen with color. Annie is a master

tease whether or not she’s aware of it.

“Um,” she mouths as she slips my hands off her hips. She pulls my phone back out of

my pocket and starts typing. I like this in charge, touchy feely version of her. Maybe all
she needed was a little space between her and her brothers—some freaking breathing
room.

I saw that Johanna mentioned Regency House. Are you going tonight? She

looks up expectantly.

“Are you?” I don’t tell her that it’s technically where I’ll end up no matter where the

day takes me.

She nods, pausing to gaze at me, and my insides melt like a schoolgirl’s. Annie has

breathtaking sky blue eyes. Aquamarine, that’s the exact shade. My mother used to have
a ring with an aquamarine in it. And if I knew my father hadn’t hawked it, I would have

gifted it to her. Although I think we’re miles from the ring-bearing phase of our
relationship. Relationship. That goofy grin curves back up my lips. I haven’t fallen this
hard since—ever.

Her chest is just a hair from mine, and I can feel the warmth of her body. That easy

sweet perfume of hers coils itself around me, and I take in a deep lungful, already as high
off Annie as I can get.

Her lips twitch. That perfect mouth of hers has me mesmerized. I’ve never seen such

defined lips. Annie is a natural beauty, not a hint of chunky mascara or a painted-on
smile. She’s the real deal. A far cry from any of the girls I’m used to. A far cry from Olivia,
that’s for sure.

That mouth. I lean in an inch and she does the same. Holy shit, this is happening.

We’re going to kiss in the halls like a pair of high school teenagers, and I’ll take it. I’ll
take anything Annie wants to give me, anywhere anytime.

I close my eyes and lean in hard, hitting air only to find she’s backed away a good

foot.

Her teeth graze her bottom lip as she looks up playfully.
“I guess I’ll see you tonight.”
She takes my phone one last time.
You will.

Regency House on any normal night is a pigsty. For whatever reason every frat boy in the
house turned into a Merry Maid, and you would never know that just last night a drunk
coed took a piss in the corner. By evening the entire frat house is spotless,
unrecognizable. It looks staged, a simple sofa, a bare table. Everything in the house looks
like a theater prop. By ten the party is going strong, and I keep Danny and the guys from
the band company at the beer pong table. No use in getting shitfaced when I’d rather
spend time with Annie. Since Ben died, I haven’t really drowned in my sorrows like I used
to. Ironic since before he passed away I thought I had problems, and, now that he’s
gone, his death is the only real problem that matters. It sucks that there’s no solution,
just a lifetime of separation. I would have rather he moved out of state, went to China,
went to prison—at least that way I could have visited him—brought him a cake with a
knife in it. I loved him even if he didn’t believe it was true half the time. Wyatt blinks
through my mind. I do have one living brother. Maybe I should treat him with a little
more respect.

Danny lets out a riotous whoop as one of the girls chugs down a pint. Danny’s hair is

dyed blood red and spiked out in all directions as he sports the chains and leather
tonight. I’ve opted for a flannel and blue jeans. I don’t think a person in this room would
peg us for being in the same band. But I’ve never been showy like the rest of the guys.
The way they express themselves day in and day out, they’ve got a budding career in
Vegas if this whole band thing doesn’t pan out. For me, I’ll probably close out my
business degree and dive into marketing—anything to get away from the shop. Another
Harley rolled in this afternoon. I almost puked when I saw the front end bent in. Same
thing that happened to Benji happened to that poor fool, but he was lucky enough to
survive.

I spot Gunner and Eddie, the bass player and guitarist we hired last winter, and head

on over.

“What’s up?” I need something to get my mind off Ben, and there isn’t a sign of Annie

yet.

“Just shooting the shit.” Gunner nods at a group of sorority girls. I recognize the girls

from earlier today and hold back a groan. They were a little too friendly without booze.
Who knows what parts they’ll be willing to thrust my way after a few beers. “Which one
you taking home?”

“None of the above,” I say. “I’ll leave that to you two.” Gunner and Eddie are brothers

— I won’t lie, it hurts a little to be around them. They look like twins even though they’re
a year apart just like Ben and I were. “See those two?” I point over at the girls from
earlier just as the tall one, Johanna, turns around and flashes her tits at me. Something
glistens on the left one. Nipple ring? That might have interested me last week, but,
thankfully, I’ve moved on. She waves and bops on over before I can stop this runaway
train. Crap. Here we go.

“Look who showed up!” She throws her arms around me, and, before I know it, she’s

climbing me like a beanpole.

“Whoa.” I glance to the door because I know what’s coming next.
Sure enough Annie walks in and holy, holy… Annie looks fierce in her fitted jeans, tan

cowboy boots that beg for a horse to ride, and a tight sweater that annihilates me in the
very best way. She looks over with a laugh caught in her throat, and I give a stupid wave.
That ridiculous grin comes to my face. I can’t help but lose myself in her for a moment.

A hard bite sinks over my ear, and I let out a groan. Shit. I forgot all about the blonde

dangling from my body like a Christmas ornament.

“Down girl.” I carefully plant her in front of Gunner. “You’re welcome.” I turn to Eddie,

“Don’t worry, buddy. She’s got a friend.”

I thread through the crowd, but Annie isn’t anywhere to be seen. Shit. She probably

took off. I head for the door and spot her in the corner with a blonde by her side and two

guys I recognize from parties past chatting it up with them. I hold back a smile. It looks
like they can use another person in their circle. Annie spots me and steps toward the guy
to her left. He’s tall and GQ with a freaking suit on. A suit. Who the hell wears a suit to a
frat house? I get a little closer, and Annie glances my way before putting her hand on his
shoulder.

I pause a moment trying to figure this out. It’s not that Tristan douche. In fact, I’ve

never seen her with this guy before. A thought occurs to me. Is she trying to make me
jealous? I’d be amused if I wasn’t annoyed or—for the lack of a better word—jealous.
Wait, this doesn’t have to do with pole climbing Jo-the-ho back there does it? Holy heck.
A smile digs into the side of my cheek. Maybe I’m not the only jealous one around here.
The music spikes up ten octaves, and the smile glides off my face because Annie can’t
hear it. No music, no favorite song, she hasn’t heard a note of what comes from my
mouth, and yet she’s always faithful with a smile on her face each time we’re at the Black
Bear.

“What’s going on?” I dig my gaze into hers and step in front of the preppy who’s trying

to rope her in with his smooth tie, his smooth talk.

“Dude”—he pulls me back by the shoulder a little too rough for my liking—“we’re

having a conversation.”

“She’s with me.” I don’t take my eyes off Annie. I can’t. Her lips are a luscious juicy

red tonight, and I’m dying to take a bite. She’s beautiful with her eyes glowing in this dim
light, her frosted eye shadow sparkles just enough to give her that angel effect. But Annie
doesn’t need it. Annie is an angel, my injured soul can testify to that.

“What part of we’re having a conversation don’t you understand?” The dude barks in

my ear, and my jaw clenches because I know his type. He’s not able to leave well enough
alone until things get physical.

I turn to get a better look at the guy I’m about to assault—clean cut, hair parted

neatly down the side, glasses. I’ll try not to bend the frame.

“See those chicks over there?” I nod to where Gunner and Eddie are about to close a

deal. “They’re aching for some action. You want to get lucky? I’d hurry if I were you.” I
turn my full attention to Annie. That beaming smile of hers goes off, and it makes me
wonder what the hell we’re still doing in a room full of people.

My shoulder gets yanked from behind as the idiot shoves me into the wall. A slight

gasp emits from the immediate crowd around us. He’s teasing out my anger like a rock
against flint.

“I’m glad you started it.” I draw back my arm. “Because I’d love to finish it.” My fist

connects with his jaw, and his glasses go flying. Sorry sport. He lands on top of me and
offers a knee to the balls.

Holy shit! Who does that? I roll over, dying in pain, and, before I know it, the entire

frat house has turned into a brawling match.

Ah, fuck. I get on all fours trying to get the hell up. I try to recompose myself enough

to find Annie but can’t see straight for the life of me. The dull ache sears right through to
my belly, and I fight the urge to puke. A surge rises through me. I kick the legs out from
beneath him before we go at it again.

Idiots—both him and me.
After the melee dies down, Barkley, the house “sitter” AKA house brother, kicks

everyone the hell out. The place is trashed. There’s a questionable pool of liquid in the
middle of the room leading right up over the sofa where I lay my head at night. And
something tells me that good time is over.

I pull my phone out and shoot a text to Annie right from where I’m lying on the floor.

Sorry about that.

Don’t apologize. Are you ok???
I’m fine. Just want to make sure you’re safe.
She texts right back. My roommate and I went home.
I’m glad. You free tomorrow afternoon? 3:30?
Sure! I imagine the excitement on her face, and my heart thumps at the idea of

making her happy—making anyone happy.

Great. I’ll pick you up at Prescott.
And how do you know where I live?
A smile comes and goes. I can practically see her flirting.
I’m a proficient stalker. Goodnight, Annie.
Goodnight, Blake.
Perfect. I’ll pick her up right after work. I know just the place to take her—that is if the

weather behaves.

“Daniels!” A swift kick to my thigh rouses my attention as I get up off the floor.

Barkley helps me up the rest of the way. “Sorry about your balls, dude.” He shakes his
head. “But you gotta go. It’s university policy, no squatters allowed. I would have let you
stay if you didn’t start shit.”

I’d let him know I didn’t technically start shit, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a fight I’m

going to win, so I raise my hands in surrender and give.

“I’ll be gone come morning.”
“No can do. I need you gone right now.”
“Where am I supposed to go?” It’s dropping down to the thirties tonight. I hate

sleeping in the truck. I’ve done it a time or two, and I’m not in the mood to assume the
neck cricking position.

“Not my problem.” He heads for the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble finding

some girl to share a bed with. Alpha Chi is fucking generous this time of year.”

“Alpha Chi.” I groan as I think of hauling all my crap down from the attic. I don’t want

to share a bed with anyone from Alpha Chi tonight or any other night. Annie blinks
through my mind, those ruby lips, that wild hair, those lucent eyes that I wish I could
stare into all night long. I think I know who I want to share a bed with, and I’m pretty
sure she deserves someone way better than me. Maybe that preppy. I’m betting he’s not
a homeless dropout with a kid on the way.

I collect my things and start the long drive over to Jepson.
The light is on in Wyatt’s ranch house. Those cowboy boots Annie wore tonight come

to mind and hit me like another kick in the balls. Wyatt has more than a few horses I can
teach her to ride.

I head up the porch and give a brisk knock to the door. It takes a good five minutes

for it to swing open. Wyatt appears in nothing but his sweats. A girl stands behind him
with his dress shirt wrapped around her body like a robe.

Great.
“What’s going on?” He squints past me into the night. He’s my spitting image minus

the rough edge and tats—same dark hair, same God-breathed eyes our mother used to
say.

“You said you wanted to talk.” I plunk my duffle bag onto the porch. “Here I am.”

S I L E N T

K I S S E S

A N N IE

aturday morning I wake up with the sun—reeling off the excitement of seeing Blake

later on today. Marley and I head to Hallowed Grounds for breakfast before Holt picks me
up for a lunch date with my mother. I’ve been heading home almost every Friday night
and staying through the weekend, but as soon as I learned that Blake would be at
Regency House last night, I knew I wanted to stay.

So how are things with William? I tap the screen on my phone playfully. Marley

has her hair up in a messy bun. Her eye makeup is slightly smudged, and she’s still
unreasonably gorgeous.

“Great.” Her brows rise, but she doesn’t smile like she usually does when she gushes

about him. She types into her phone. I miss him more than I thought I would. I’m
beginning to wonder if I made a mistake by coming to Whitney.

Now I feel bad. Don’t say that. Things happen for a reason. I’m sure

everything will work out. You just need to get used to everything. How did
things work out with the velvet handcuffs? I bet he was thrilled to do a little
research with you.

She makes a face. Never did use them. His stomach was upset, and he ended

up leaving early. I don’t know why, but I got the feeling it was just an excuse.

I’m not sure what to say now. Is he coming down again soon?
She lets out an exasperated breath. He was supposed to come down today, but

he has a big paper due on Monday. He’ll be down next weekend for sure. I
think I’m going to surprise him and drive up. It’s only fair if we take turns. She
strums her nails, getting lost in thought for a moment. “And what about you? Where do
you think Blake is taking you later today?” She mouths the words carefully to me.

I have no idea. Maybe the lookout again? He’s picking me up at 3:30, and

I’m worried my brother won’t bring me back by then. I really want to go out
with him.

Marley darts her gaze to the ceiling a moment. “How old are you again? I’m sorry, but

I’d tell my brother a thing or two if he was trying to stand in the way of me and my

boyfriend—not that I have a brother. And the boyfriend feels questionable right about
now, too.”

I touch my hand to hers a moment before replying. Well, I have two brothers who

both happen to feel very protective of me. And Blake isn’t my boyfriend. We’re
just sort of friends. Not that I haven’t imagined him as my boyfriend. I’m sure my
brothers would freak out on a daily basis if that were the case. I can see their torches and
pitchforks now.

Marley stares down at my phone a moment too long before typing into it. Annie, you

do realize that he’s interested in more than a friendship with you. She tilts her
head awaiting an answer.

She’s right. I can feel it in my bones. My teeth graze over my bottom lip. Heck, I want

more than a friendship with him.

I know. I think I want the same. I’ve never done this before. I’m not quite

sure what to expect. But I’m excited for it. I’ll take whatever he’s willing to
give me. My cheeks flush with heat as I show her my response.

Marley gives an open mouth laugh. “How does he make you feel?”
How does he make me feel? I blush from head to toe as I glance around afraid she’s

shouted the question.

I stare into my phone a good long time trying to formulate the words. Blake makes

me feel like I’m falling—like I’m laughing and crying all at once. I can’t really
describe it, but it’s an insane, happy feeling. The other day when he wrapped
his arms around me, it felt like my body was on fire. My heart raced so fast I
thought I’d pass out if he let go.

I carefully slide the phone across the table as if it were my heart.
Marley takes it from me and studies it a good long while before placing it down with

tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Annie.” She covers my hand with hers. “I think you’re really falling for this guy.”

Holt drives us over to Mom’s house with the radio turned up a little too loud. I know this
because I can feel the bass vibrating through my skull as I lean my head against the
window. Holt always drives with the radio turned all the way up, his window down and
his fingers strumming against the dash. I can see his mouth moving along with the
rhythm as we enter the suburban housing track that leads towards Mom’s sprawling
home. Dad left her with a nice piece of land and my childhood home in the backcountry
just past Hollow Brook. I love it here with the evergreens lining the road, the open sky

above, the pale pastures that stretch from one property to the next.

When we get there we find Mom downstairs with Nitro, my black lab, hopping around

like mad happy to see us.

Baby, Mom signs. I’ve missed you like crazy. Tell me everything and start from the

beginning. Baya and Bryson are coming, so you might want to skip to the juicy parts
before they get here. She gives a little wink. Mom is beautiful with her sensible chic style,
her modern rectangular cut glasses. Her shoulder length hair has grown out a bit, and,
thankfully, she’s growing out her bangs as well. Last fall she colored it a shade too dark,
and she’s finally starting to sprout her chestnut highlights at the roots again.

“There are no juicy parts.” Holt winks at me.
Nice. I glance to Mom with a look that says see what I’m up against? But honestly I

don’t expect her to understand.

“What’s going on?” she asks. It’s rare she doesn’t sign around me, although that was

clearly meant for Holt.

“There’s some guy that’s got it bad for Annie. Don’t worry. I’ve got my eye on him.

He’s not getting anywhere.”

I bend down to scratch Nitro’s belly until his hind legs kick out of control. I want no

part of this conversation. If Holt wants to think he has it all under control, I’ll gladly let
him believe it. At least Izzy seems to be understanding. Sometimes I think neither of my
brothers will ever accept me having someone in my life. I’m sure they’ll want to supervise
on my wedding night just to make sure the whole evening ends on a chaste note. I think
they’d dance a jig if I announced I was heading into a convent. In fact, it wouldn’t
surprise me if they already signed me up for one. I’ve already got the vow of silence
down pat. I make a face at Nitro. I used to envy him for so long. The way my mother
spoils him—the way the world expects nothing out of him but a wag of the tail, he really
does have it made.

Baya and Bryson show up, and Mom serves us a huge brunch on the back terrace. The

apple trees lining the property are dotted with bright red fruit that hang like Christmas
ornaments, and their fragrance fans all the way over to where we’re sitting.

“So when do I get my grandchildren?” Mom directs the question to Baya and Bryson,

and they both nearly choke on their next bite.

“Not for a while.” Baya smiles sweetly at my brother. “I want to graduate first and

settle down. No hurry over here.” She looks to Holt.

Izzy had to work at the dance studio this afternoon, or she would have joined us for

my mother’s maternity shakedown.

“We’ve got cats.” Holt is quick to jump out of the baby fire, both signing and speaking.

“For now,” he teases.

Mom rides her shoulders to her ears with a content look on her face. “I’m just so glad

you’ve all found your special someone.” She glances to me, and her eyes widen. “And
don’t you worry, sweetie, your special someone is out there just waiting to find you. And
when the time is right, he will.”

I glance down at my phone. The time will be right in approximately two hours, and

the place he’ll find me will be right in front of Prescott Hall. I try to hide the blooming grin
on my face. I can’t help it. Blake makes me want to laugh out loud with joy. Something I
haven’t felt, since, well, ever.

“Annie?” Mom waves to garner my attention. “I got those pamphlets from the Hoover

Ear Clinic in Los Angeles. They have an extensive website. There are tons of video
testimonials that I’d love to go over with you tonight. We can get Chinese and maybe
dabble in some cyber shopping. We’ll paint the Internet red.” She raises her fork to me
before taking another bite of her omelet.

Oh—I can’t stay over. Study group tonight. I sign so fast I’m not sure if I actually have

a study group or if I’ve just lied to my mother for the very first time. My breathing grows
erratic, and I feel light headed like I might pass out. Ironic since that’s exactly how I feel
around Blake. I’m not sure what it means that both lying to my mother and my feelings
for my new boyfriend are one in the same. Wait—did I just call him my boyfriend? I shake
the thought out of my head.

“Annie?” Mom waves, and I freeze with a grimace glued to my face. All eyes are on

me, and oh, wow, this has become uncomfortable far too quick. Is it too late to fake a
stomach ache? It’s as if the lies are ready to shoot out of me like a geyser.

“Are you okay?” Mom’s eyes enlarge with concern as if I’ve malfunctioned once and for

all. “You seem a little distracted.”

Baya’s mouth drops open as if she’s just had an epiphany. I’m sure she’s onto me.
Distracted is a good word, I sign back. School is a bit tougher than I anticipated. God’s

honest truth, right there. I have an eight-page essay due on Monday. It’s just a first draft,
but the professor likes for the class to critique each other’s work.

Bryson does a quick translation for his new wife.
That’s why I have to get back tonight—actually, this afternoon. I need to be back by

three thirty. Some of the other girls—people in the group—want to have their evening
free. God, this just keeps getting worse. Forget faking a stomach ache. I have one.

“Are you sure it’s not a boy who has you distracted?” Mom gives a knowing look, and

my face heats up like hell fire. “Holt mentioned that someone had their eye on you. I can
imagine a whole lot of boys have their eyes on you.” Her face lights up with glee as if she
lives to torment me over a boy. I know she means well, and I’m pretty sure she’d be
singing a different tune if she knew this boy were the reason I wanted to head back to

campus. It’s all fun and games until there’s a real penis involved. If I didn’t feel like
crying, I’d laugh at the thought.

What if there was a boy? I force a smile, but it comes out more of a scowl. A part of

me wants to probe just to see if she’s all right with the idea.

Bryson whispers to Baya, and her chest hiccups with a gasp.
Mom’s amusement is quick to melt away. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to bring him

around.” She nods to Holt and Bryson. “I’m sure your brothers will want to approve. I’ve
never envied you on that front. But I’m sure if you find him interesting, that’s enough for
me.” She does a quick sweep of all the secretive faces. “Well, who’s going to tell me
about this mystery boy?”

Holt leans his head back a moment. “He’s the lead singer in a band that performs at

the Black Bear—the 12 Deadly Sins.” He looks to me. “In the event you haven’t noticed,
they added about five extra transgressions.”

Good God. I roll my eyes.
“His name is Blake.” Baya nods at my mother. “He’s amazingly sweet, and he has a

voice that makes ovaries cry for a ten mile radius.”

My heart thumps at the idea. She nailed it all right.
Bryson shoots her a look before pulling her in close, and she giggles. It’s nice seeing

him so happy. He was so depressed, and rightfully so, after his friend Stephanie died. He
thought she killed herself over him, but she was pushed off a cliff by that evil witch,
Aubree. Baya is lucky she survived Aubree’s clutches. My thoughts drift to Blake, how
horrible he must feel to have lost his brother just this past summer, and now I can’t wait
to see him in just a few short hours. He hasn’t talked much about his brother, but I want
him to. I want him to tell me everything there is to know about him. I want to be that
person for Blake—someone he can share his intimate thoughts with.

Bryson lifts a finger. “Don’t worry, Mom. Holt and I already talked to this clown. He

and Annie are just friends—less than friends, acquaintances.” He lifts his brows as if
demanding that’s all Blake and I will ever be.

Acquaintances, huh?
Mom holds out her hands a moment. “So much is changing, and I have no doubt Annie

will have someone special in her life soon enough.” She looks to me heavy with concern.
“Don’t rush into things. They say women are complicated, but, believe me, men are
complicated, too, if not more so. I wouldn’t get too attached to this Blake person. You’re
young. You have your whole life ahead of you. Men are like shoes, you want to try on a
few good pairs before committing to just the right one.”

Holt and Bryson slouch in a manner that lets me know they’re less than pleased with

her analogy. I’m positive she didn’t mean for it to be sexual in nature, but Baya is

practically crying she’s laughing so hard.

“Anyway”—Mom is as desperate to change the subject, as I am—“back to your

hearing. I booked an initial consult with an associate clinic in Jepson. They can send their
findings to the Los Angeles branch, and if you qualify, we can schedule the surgery as
early as November.”

Surgery. I can practically feel the scalpel as she signs the word.
I want to say no thanks, but offer a bleak smile instead.
I know two things for sure. I’m about to make Blake Daniels more than an

acquaintance in just under an hour—and I won’t be anywhere near Los Angeles come
November.

The idea of Blake and his ovary exploding voice comes back to me.
Why does it feel as if I’m running in all sorts of scary directions at once?

It takes many text messages and stare downs with Baya to convince her to drive me back
to the dorm. Who knew a football game was on, and my brothers had plans to sit glued
to the set for the next four hours? Thank God for Baya, or I would have been stranded.
Another reason to get my license ASAP. Last year both Kaya and I took our driver’s
education courses. As soon as she could, she went down to the DMV and got her license.
Kaya is a great driver—correction, Kaya is one of the safest drivers I’ve ever been in a car
with. No offense to Baya, of course. Although it does feel sort of like a roller coaster at
times, but I attribute it to the fact she’s probably not used to my brother’s truck. Maybe
this winter break I’ll get my brothers to help me log a few hours behind the wheel, and,
after the New Year, I can finally get my license. I’ll admit the idea makes me nervous, but
Kaya assured me that everyone feels that way at first, hearing or not.

Baya pulls in front of Prescott, and I do a quick sweep for any signs of Blake, but

thankfully there aren’t any. I think if I saw his big truck I’d keel over. My heart is still
racing from trying to break out of my mother’s house, but now it’s picking up speed at the
thought of being alone with Blake for the first time in a week. It’s still ten to three, so I
have a few minutes to run up and change.

Baya leans back in her seat and inspects me.
“So what time is he picking you up?”
I open my mouth to refute the idea then wisely close it again. I’ve met my quota on

lies for the week.

A wry smile drifts to my lips instead as I pull out my phone. 3:30 Please don’t tell.
“I won’t.” She laughs. “But you’re an adult, Annie. You’re allowed to see whoever,

whenever you like. And if you like Blake”—she shrugs—“then that’s the way it goes.”

Do you think he’s a good guy?
“Are you kidding?” She talks extra slow, so I don’t miss a word. “For all that bad boy

persona he puts on, he sure is a sweetheart. But don’t tell your brother I said that. I’d
hate for him to think I was looking in another direction.” She gives a full-bellied laugh,
and her hair and shoulders jump in turn. “Just be careful. Everyone’s a good guy until
they’re not. Don’t you even think of letting him touch you. You deserve an epic romance,
not some one-night stand by someone who doesn’t care enough to get to know you. Your
brothers just want the best for you. They want you to fall in love.”

I wrinkle my nose. No they don’t. They want me to be single with ten cats for

the rest of my life.

Baya bounces as she giggles. “Leave the cats to Izzy. You do you.” She holds up a

finger and types something into her phone. Go have fun on your date. Do me a
favor, though, don’t give your heart away until you’re absolutely sure he’s the
one. And please don’t give your body away. You only get one first time, and
you deserve both magic and romance—and, according to your brother, a
wedding ring, so be careful.

“I will,” I mouth before leaning in giving her a nice, tight hug. Baya is like the big

sister I never had. I give her a quick wave before speeding upstairs.

“Where have you been?” Marley has three outfits ready for me on the bed. I choose

the one with a blush-colored sweater and tight well-worn blue jeans.

What are you doing here? I thought you were headed up to surprise your

man? I spot those navy velvet cuffs she’s been dying to test out sitting unused on her
desk.

“I sort of called and asked first.” She shrugs before picking up her phone. He couldn’t

get out of a study group he’s leading. I guess we’re out of luck until next
weekend. I had a feeling he wouldn’t want me around.

I text back. Sorry to hear it.
Don’t be. She answers. I’m headed to the local sex shop to get some

inspiration for my next article. I’m not a pervert. I’m simply taking one for the
team.

I give a wry smile. How noble of you.
She lends me her cowboy boots once again and shoves a packet of breath strips into

my hand. “Put these in your pocket. You can sneak them into your mouth whenever, and
the evidence melts away leaving you with fresh breath.” She shuttles me to the door
before spinning me around to see her face again. “Oh, and don’t kiss after coffee.” She
wrinkles her nose. “And, whatever you do, don’t eat fish or garlic or anything remotely

disgusting.” She jumps with excitement. “I can’t believe you’re going to have your first
kiss!”

I’d shake my head or refute the idea, but a part of me wants to believe it’s true.

There’s only one goal I have for the rest of the day and that’s to land Blake Daniels’ lips
over mine.

I type into my phone. I’m going on a date not a kissing marathon. There is no

actual plan to fuse our mouths together. I show her the phone and can’t help but
think I’ve espoused yet another lie.

Marley tilts toward me. There’s a practicality about her that overrides her sweetness

just enough, and I admire that. She whips out her phone. You do realize he’s into you.
And don’t even try to deny the fact you’re into him. She gives my arm a quick rub
before finishing her thoughts. If things happen naturally and you’re feeling it—go
for it. Just enjoy the ride. What could a little kissing hurt?

My stomach pinches with heat at the thought of his lips touching mine.
I just hope I don’t pass out.
She bites her lip as she jots down a reply You won’t. And, if you do, odds are

he’ll be holding you so you won’t hit the ground. Now get out of here!

And I do.

By the time I step outside the building, Blake is already there, front and center, with his
window rolled down, his head leaned back, his eyes half closed in that sexy bedroom eye
kind of way. He hops out as soon as he sees me and breaks into a giant grin. Tiny
comma-like dimples dig in on either side of his cheeks, and my stomach squeezes tight at
the sight of them. I have a feeling today is going to be filled with autonomic responses I
have no control over. Like Marley said, just enjoy the ride.

Blake steps toward me in his blue-gray flannel, his inky dark jeans, those speckled

burning eyes, and I melt. Blake Daniels is perfection. Just the sight of him makes all
those butterflies that have been making me insane instantly fly away. Something about
his presence calms me. I feel more relaxed and at home with him than I do with my
entire family. There’s something special about Blake Daniels, that’s for sure.

“You look”—he points to me before covering his face with his palm and circling his

hand over it. That’s the ASL sign for beautiful.

I’m breathless that he learned to do that for me.
“Thank you,” I mouth with a heartfelt sincerity. “You look”—I make the letter H then

touch my hand around my face in a circular fashion—“handsome,” I mouth.

He holds his hands out a moment and looks to the sky, and I laugh, touching my hand

to my lips to catch myself. I’m pretty good at silent chuckles, but every now and again,
one will escape, and my voice box will get its monthly workout.

He gently takes my hand from my mouth his eyes penetrating intensely in mine.

“That’s okay. You have a beautiful voice.”

My face burns with a fire all its own as he helps me into the truck, and we head out.

We pass the Black Bear, and I feel a sense of relief. I know that what Baya said was true.
I am an adult, and I can see and do whatever I want, but a part of me very much wants
my brothers’ approval. They’ve always been my heroes, and if I ever hurt them or let
them down it’ll kill me.

We drive through Jepson then out into the countryside where crowded city streets and

skyscrapers are traded for acres of colorful maples and wide-open sky. It occurs to me I
have no idea where he’s taking us, and if I weren’t so caught off guard by the fact he
learned to sign the sweetest thing possible, I would have asked.

Blake points up ahead, and a breath gets caught in my throat. An entire row of tiny

blips in the sky come into focus—hot air balloons.

Oh, God. I force a smile. I completely forgot. Something tells me today is going to test

my fear of heights in a whole new way. Why—why did I ever mention hot air balloons?
Crap! I’m going to pass out on this date all right. Let’s just hope I don’t fall to my death in
the process. Is it even legal to put human beings in a basket attached to an oversized
balloon? Maybe he just wants to watch—safely from the ground with our feet firmly
planted on God’s green earth.

He pulls into a parking space that reads departing passengers only. And, there’s that.
Blake helps me out and nods to the sky. “You up for an adventure today?”
Will you be joining me on this adventure? I coyly point my phone at him.
“Yes.” His brows dip, and his smile is lustful and sexy and a thousand things I’m pretty

sure my brothers would never ever approve of.

I’m in.
Blake and I head inside the tiny office and purchase tickets before we watch a brief

instructional video. Our pilot leads us out and helps me over the basket. No door. No
bathroom. Two things that distinguish us from the animals I want to say but don’t. I give
a brief smile to the sky because this is one nightmare I’ve dragged myself into.

“Are you okay?” Blake leans into me with that dark hair, those demanding eyes, and

all of my fears melt like butter. Well, almost. The very real fear of breaking my neck in an
accidental fall is still holding ground.

I give a slight nod, and, without thinking, my arms slip around his waist. The balloon

starts to wobble, and, before we know it, we’re levitating off the ground. The rush of wind

blows my hair wild, and I turn slightly to get it off my face. Blake slowly wraps his arms
around me, and I lean into his warm chest as all of Jepson, the colorful patches of maples
and oaks blur beneath us like a watercolor. Blake points to the north where the entire
hillside is alive with autumn splendor—a breathless rainbow of fire—a world whose
beauty you truly need a bird’s eye view to fully appreciate.

I pull out my phone. I can’t believe how beautiful this is. Thank you. I would

never have been brave enough to do this without you.

His face inches back a bit as if he didn’t believe it. “You make me brave.” An

incredible sadness pulls down his features as he says it. He glances over at the pilot who
kindly mans the ship from the other side of the basket. I suppose he’s used to giving
couples their share of privacy although I hardly think Blake and I qualify as an official
couple.

His grip around me tightens, and it’s only then I truly grasp the fact that Blake and I

are holding one another—granted it might have started out as holding on for dear life,
but his hands warm over my back, his legs sit tight against mine. It feels different now,
like something more.

Blake leans back, examining me with a serious look of intent as if he’s seeing me for

the very first time.

A burst of fire explodes over his shoulder as the balloon rises even higher.
Blake’s forehead creases, and his brows dip into a perfect V formation. My insides

quiver at how disarmingly handsome he is. Blake could be in this hot air balloon with any
girl of his choosing, and it’s almost impossible to believe I’m the girl he chose.

“Can I kiss you?” He says the words extra slow, determined that I understand.
My heart stops. I swallow hard, mustering just enough strength to nod yes.
Blake presses out a brief smile before leaning in with short staccato moves, and my

body pulses with a heartbeat all its own. My stomach threatens to shoot out of my skull.
My knees grow weak—my breathing picks up until I’m panting right into him.

Blake comes to me and brushes his lips ever so softly over mine, light as air, and my

lids flutter open wondering if it happened at all.

I twist my lips holding back a smile as he tweaks his brows in a devious manner.
“How about another?” Blake leans in, and I close my eyes. His lips glide over mine,

harder this time, and he lingers.

My insides burn bright with a blaze all their own, and I can feel a moan creeping up

my throat. I want this. I’ve wanted this since the moment I looked into his beautiful eyes
that first day.

The wind whips around us. The basket vibrates from the burner blasting in the

background.

Blake lightens up as if he might pull away, and I press my hand to the back of his

neck, holding him there right where he belongs. A vibrating tingle comes from his lips to
mine, and I hope it’s an approving moan. He’s taking it slow, very slow, and as much as I
appreciate it, I want him to know that I won’t break. He can kiss me how he really wants,
as fast and furious as his body demands. My mouth falls open just enough to throw out
the invitation, and Blake dives in slowly. His tongue mingles softly with mine, and it takes
all of my self-control not to vocalize a thousand heartfelt groans. Blake moves in me with
slow meandering strokes, then in a quick burst of passion that makes it feel as if this kiss
alone has the power to float the ship. I make my way into his mouth, and his fingers dig
hard into my hips. His chest rises and falls over mine, and it feels like more than I ever
thought it could. I’m pretty sure every first kiss doesn’t hold this magic. It can’t. This is
different. This is something special just for Blake and me.

We pull apart, and I look up at him from under my lashes. Blake smiles wide and

lands a gentle peck over the apple of my check. He holds me tight, and I lay my head
over his chest just watching the kaleidoscope of colors below as the world lies silent
beneath our feet. This is a golden moment—far more romantic than any romance novel
I’ve ever read.

This is real.
Blake and I are real.

B L A K E

he sky warms a brilliant shade of burgundy as the hot air balloon touches the

ground. It took a hell of a lot of self-control not to keep my mouth planted over hers the
entire time. That kiss was everything I knew it would be and more. I wanted Annie’s first
kiss to be special, to be memorable, and I knew that I’d have to cap it after one, so the
hot air balloon seemed the logical answer.

We head to the truck, and the last thing I want is to drive Annie back to the dorm.
“You up for dinner?”
Annie leans against the open door looking up at me with those long lashes I’ve been

dreaming about, those curves in her skin-hugging jeans, the cowboy boots that can drive
me wild all on their own.

She licks her lips slowly, running her tongue in a smooth, quick circle.
Shit. A huff of a laugh escapes me. If it were anyone else, I would have thought it was

an invitation, but with Annie I wouldn’t dare assume. She steps into me and pulls me
down by the back of the neck.

“Can I have another kiss?” she whispers, and it’s the most beautiful sound in the

world.

“Come here.” I pull Annie in close and land my mouth over hers. Annie comes at me

with a vengeance, her tongue bursting over mine with a passion she’s dying to unleash.
Cars drive past us. The balloon ride company shuts down for the night, and Annie and I
linger in that freezing parking lot with our mouths locked over one another as if it were
our last few moments on earth.

We finally pull apart to a darkened sky. The two of us with matching goofy grins. We

opt out of going to a restaurant and pick up take out and head to the carriage house
where Wyatt is graciously letting me stay. After I crashed his fuck-fest last night, he
gladly tossed the keys at me to the one bedroom refurbished cottage behind his property.
The Golden Oaks Horse Ranch is a boarding facility he runs on the side. It once belonged
to his father, who, as far as fathers go, isn’t nearly the disaster mine happens to be.
Nope. My father won’t be gifting me a horse ranch anytime soon—maybe a pile of shit to

step in.

I start a fire and settle us on the couch.
“Are you hungry?” I start taking the Chinese food out of the bag, and Annie shakes her

head.

She shows me her phone. But please, eat. I don’t want you to starve.
“Nope, I’m fine.” I move the bags to the table and scoot in close, twisting my body

just enough for her to read my lips. “Tell me something about you I don’t know.”

I saw my mom today. She’s pretty adamant I get this high-tech implant. It

would require surgery. It’s been heavy on my heart all afternoon, but you
managed to take my mind off it. Thank you for that.

“Will this implant help you hear?”
“I think so,” she mouths before typing into her phone. I’m a candidate, so my

mother is pretty rabid about it. It stimulates the inner ear, making sounds
richer than other implants. It’s basically a sound processor and a couple of
transducers. It blows doors off old-school implants.

A swell of relief fills me. “Annie, you have to do this.” I rub her shoulder, trying to coax

her into the idea. Hell, I’d take her there now to have this done if I could.

She frowns before typing into her phone. You would get along great with my

mother. She looks to the ceiling a moment. But, seriously, I know it would be a
good thing. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for it. I’m a big chicken when it
comes to hospitals. I feel sick just thinking about it.

“I get it.” I pull out my phone. When my brother died—I started to black out as

soon as I hit the ER. I’m not a fan of blood or gore, and, unfortunately, with
Ben I got both.

“I’m so sorry,” she says in the faintest whisper. Her fingers move lightning fast over

her phone. What you went through is unimaginable. I couldn’t handle losing
either one of my brothers. I feel bad when they act like jerks around you.

“No. They don’t.” My chest rumbles with a laugh. “Maybe a little.” I squeeze my finger

and thumb together and wince. I’m teasing. I’m glad they’re protective of you. I
wouldn’t want it any other way.

She lifts a shoulder at the thought. Tell me about your family.
My family. I swallow hard, trying to figure out which angle to take on this.
“My dad is—” I clasp my hand to the back of my neck before reaching for my phone.

He’s a character. That’s putting it mildly. My mother was divorced, a single mom
when she met him. My older brother, Wyatt, this is his ranch. He’s a great guy.
I can’t wait for you to meet him. I nod toward the main house. He’s a lady’s man.
That’s why he’s opted to let me stay in the guesthouse. My brother, Benji—we

were close. We fought sometimes. Nothing was ever perfect in our lives, but
we had each other.

That about sums up my existence in a nutshell with the exception of Olivia. Just the

thought of her makes my stomach sour.

Annie holds out her phone. You mentioned that he passed away this last

summer, that was just a few weeks ago. I can imagine how raw your emotions
must be. Do you want to talk about him? Her eyes glitter as tears threaten to fall.

Just seeing Annie trying to absorb my pain makes it all a little easier to handle.
“He was a nut.” True as God. We loved the same things, fishing, hiking. He

wasn’t in the band toward the end. When we were little, he’d tell everyone I
was his sister just to piss me off. A laugh bucks through my chest. He was my
buddy. I can’t imagine how I’m going to get through life without him.

Annie sighs as she writes out a reply. Blake—I want you to know that you can

talk to me about Benji anytime you want. I’m here for you. I don’t want you to
ever feel like you can’t talk about him.

I nod. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that. I appreciate it.”
Annie slips over and sits in my lap. A devilish smile rides over her lips as she taps into

her phone. Tell me about the girls in your life. Every time I turn around, there’s
a girl trying to climb you.

“Sort of like this?” I give the bottom of her thigh a light tap. And a genuine laugh

trickles from the both of us. Hers still has the volume turned down. Girls, huh? I don’t
kiss and tell.

She takes my phone. Can I ask how many there have been?
I take it back. Why do I get the feeling you’re not asking about kisses

anymore.

Annie bites down seductively on her lower lip and shakes her head. She wants

answers. I consider it for a moment. I know for a fact I’m knee-deep in double digits.

“Too many.” The need to apologize bubbles to the surface. “I’m sorry.”
Why? Her brows knit. She looks genuinely perplexed by this.
“Because I wish I waited.” I press my lips tight. “I wish I waited for you.”
Her mouth opens, and she glances at the door like she might be using it.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” I pull up my phone. It’s just—what

happened today, that was something that I’ve never experienced before. It
was amazing. It felt right. Like I’ve waited for it my entire life.

The fire snaps a series of aggressive pops, and the room heats up ten times hotter

than before.

Annie doesn’t move. Her eyes stay fixed on mine. She blinks at her phone a moment

before writing back. Sometimes there are no words.

I pull her chin up with my finger ever so gently. This time I don’t ask, I simply lower

my lips to hers and kiss her, slow and easy, like she were mine. And I’m hoping to God
she is.

Annie matches my pace, my passion, my desire for more, with a momentum that

continues to build between us. She rides her hands up my shirt, gliding her cool fingers
over my chest, and it feels like paradise. A breath escapes me as I pause a moment to
smile right over her mouth. Her hands glide down, landing over the button on my jeans.

“Whoa.” I pull back and clasp my hand over hers. “Not sure we should move so fast.”

Words that have never left my mouth before.

“Why?” she whispers. Her forehead creases, her eyes still glazed over with a fresh

layer of lust.

“Because”—I cup her face and brush my thumb over her cheek—“if that’s going to

happen for us, I want it to be just right. Perfect.” I mouth the words laboriously slow.

Her lips crimp in frustration as she pulls out her phone. It can be perfect tonight.
A laugh rumbles from me. “I don’t think it would be perfect tonight.”
She gives an incredulous huff. Did I do something wrong?
“What? No.” I tap into my phone. You’re doing everything right. That’s why I

think we should continue in that trajectory. I swallow hard as I show it to her. I
want to make sure your first time is special.

Her brows dig into her forehead with amusement. Do you always make sure your

first time with a girl is special?

She’s got me there. “No. But you are special.” I slow it down so she doesn’t miss a

beat. My hands wrap tight around her tiny waist as I pull her closer to me. “And I want
our first time to be just as memorable as that kiss.”

Her gaze falls to the floor. Are you treating me different because of my

hearing?

“No.” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I swear to you it’s not that.” My hands fumble

with my phone again. You’re special to me, Annie. I think what’s happening
between us is special. You asked about other girls— I close my eyes a moment.
“You’re in a class all by yourself. “ I annunciate each word carefully. “I wouldn’t even
compare you to them.”

She shifts her body until she’s straddling me on either side with her knees. Annie sinks

down over my lap, and my boxers come to life trying to salute her.

“Annie,” her name hisses out of me slow as death. There’s nothing I would like more

than to make love to her right now. That event alone could turn this entire crap year on
its head. “This”—I touch her chest then mine—“is going to happen. But I want to get it

right.”

Annie gives a slow spreading grin as she bows over my lips with a kiss.
Her mouth opens to mine, and it’s like falling in a warm pool of wonder.
It’s like falling in love.

The Black Bear is brimming with bodies tonight, most of them female and half of those
are gunning for my crotch. As soon as the band and I finish our set, I jump off stage to
find Annie, but she seems to have vanished, so I head to the bar to get something wet.

“Nice job, baby bro.” Wyatt offers up a fist bump.
“Thanks. Glad you could make it. Where’s the lucky lady? You bring a date?” Wyatt

has never been short on girls. In fact it’s odd not to see him with one chewing on his ear.

“Nope.” He flags down the bartender for me. “Two beers.”
“Just a Pepsi for me.” I nod to Cole. He’s been pretty decent, most everyone has with

the exception of Holt and Bryson, who themselves were okay up until I started to show
interest in Annie. It’s been two weeks since our hot air balloon ride, and we’ve logged
miles with our tongues. I know she’s hoping to take it to the next level soon, and so am I.

“The funny thing is”—Wyatt glances around like he’s expecting someone—“I actually

got dumped in this place a few months back. Real nice girl. Tall, dark hair, I think her
name was Izzy.”

“Izzy?” I nod past him at a table in the corner where Izzy and Cole’s girlfriend, Roxy,

are chatting it up. “Is that her?”

“Fuck me—that is her.” He looks slightly confused. “She dumped me right here, dude.

She was sweet about it, though. Nice girl.”

“Her fiancé, Holt, owns the place.” Cole passes us our drinks, and we thank him. “Holt

also happens to be Annie’s brother.”

Wyatt puts the beer to his mouth and smiles. “Small world. So where’s the infamous

Annie? Are you sure you’re not getting dumped right now?”

“She’s here.”
“Excuse me?” A light voice comes from behind, and we turn to find Izzy beaming a big

ole glad-to-see-you smile at my brother. “I thought that was you!” She laughs while
stepping in close. “I have to say, you were the nicest, and, might I add, sanest blind date
I’ve ever been on.”

“Thank you. I think. I suppose sane is rated on a sliding scale.”
Izzy laughs so loud it pierces over the music pumping through the speakers, and my

heart sinks because I’d give anything to hear Annie laugh like that.

“What’s going on?” Holt pops up, glaring at both my brother and me.
Perfect.
Izzy does the introductions, and I add, “Wyatt is my brother.”
She beams, tapping him on the back. “I knew I liked you.”
Holt catches my eye and nods to the bar. “Where’s Cole? Register’s open, would you

shut it?”

“No problem.” I walk over, the long way, and shut the drawer. I’m not a fan of

shooting the shit with either Holt or Bryson these days.

Annie makes her way toward me, grinning from ear to ear. I speed over and meet her

halfway.

I loved your set. She wiggles her phone at me. You were perfect.
I frown at her a moment, and she takes the phone back.
You did look perfect. And Baya says you always sound perfect. She gives a

little wink. But I don’t need her to tell me that, I can tell by the vibrations. Why
do you think I lean against the wall all night?

My mouth opens to say something, and an idea comes to me. But first, “There’s

someone I’d love for you to meet.”

We make our way over and inadvertently break up Holt and Wyatt’s conversation. I’m

sure it was mind boggling much like Holt.

“Wyatt, I’d love for you to meet Annie. Annie, this is my brother, Wyatt.”
“Annie?” He hops to his feet and takes up her hand. “It’s very nice to finally meet you.

Blake says you’ve been logging some time at the carriage house, and I feel bad that it’s
taken this long for us to say hello.”

Holt nods to Annie. “What’s the carriage house?”
Shit. Here we go. It sounds innocent enough, and, believe me, it has been. We

haven’t stepped one inch off first base, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say we were thoroughly
exploring our options. I think both of us are feeling the urge to hit a homer soon.

Annie looks to me in a panic.
Wyatt lands his beer back on the bar. “Just a one bedroom I’m leasing out to this

knucklehead.” He raises a brow in my direction as if I should admire the way he made me
sound gainfully employed and living off my own means even if he did pepper it with an
insult. Little does he know he just signed my death warrant.

Holt turns his shoulder enough to block his view of Annie.
“One bedroom, huh?” The smile glides off his face. “I gotta run. I’ve got an issue in

the back.” He looks to my brother. “I’m really glad we met.” He reverts his cold, hard
gaze to me. “See me before you leave. I’ve got a bonus for you and the band.”

Shit.

Izzy winces as Holt takes off. “I’d better go see if I can help.” She mouths the word

sorry to Annie as she melts into the crowd.

“I’d better run, too.” Wyatt pans the crowd for potential bedmates. “Who’s the

blonde?” He nods past me. His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning just waiting
to tear into the wrapping paper.

Annie points her phone at him, and he leans in to read it.
“Your roommate?” He looks slightly confused. “Do you have a sore throat?”
I may have forgotten to mention the fact that Annie is deaf. In truth, I forget half the

time.

Annie looks to me a moment before typing out another quick note explaining the fact

she can’t hear.

Wyatt looks from her to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—” He looks to me in horror.

“You never mentioned it.”

“It was never on my mind.” I pull her in and circle my arms around her waist. I don’t

see why not, I’m already going to hell by way of the Edwards’ brothers.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Annie.” He extends his hand, and they exchange a quick

shake. “I’ll see you both soon. Maybe we can do dinner? Feel free to bring your
roommate,” he teases as he heads for the door.

He’s sweet. Marley will be very flattered.
“Is she taken?”
She’s waiting for her BF to propose. I think he’s avoiding her.
I wince. “Too bad.”
“Hey,” Bryson barks as he walks up on us. “Holt says he wants to speak with you in

the back.” He eyes my arms around his sister’s waist, and I slowly let them drop.

“Will do.”
I’d better head to campus with Marley. Call me?
I give a quick nod. Annie leans in and plants a sweet kiss right over my lips.
Shit.
She glances back at her brother and gives a curt wave before taking off. Wyatt may

have spilled the gasoline at my feet, but Annie just lit the match.

I follow Bryson to the back room where I fully expect to get my kneecaps knocked in

with a baseball bat—I’m hoping my balls are safe for now.

“What’s up?” I stare down both Holt and Bryson with their nearly identical faces and

fight the urge to butt their heads together. Benji comes to mind, and suddenly I’m seeing
them in a whole new light. “Before you go off and tell me to get the hell out of the bar—
and your sister’s life—I just want to say that I hope you both know how lucky you are.” I
clasp the back of my neck. “I lost my brother last summer. We were close.”

“I just met your brother.” Holt growls.
“Different brother. Benji died in a motorcycle accident last July.” I stuff my hands into

my jeans. “Go ahead say what you’re going to say so we can all get out of here.”

Bryson looks to Holt, and they spend about a minute raising their brows at one

another.

Holt steps up and just when I think he’s going to bury his fist in my gut he offers up a

knuckle bump.

“Don’t hurt her, man.”
Bryson steps up, too. “I’m watching you. When you don’t know I’m looking, I’m there.”
Holt nods over. “No more taking her back to your place.”
“What?” Bryson’s eyes bulge out like hardboiled eggs.
Holt holds up a hand. “I’ll have Izzy talk to Annie.”
That perennially pissed look returns to Bryson’s face. “Dude, there are five hundred

girls out there right now willing to bed you. Why the fuck are you messing with our
sister?”

“First, I’m not messing with your sister. And second, I’m in love with her.”

T H E S O U N D O F

M U S I C

A N N IE

ust before Digital Studios begins, I get a text from Kaya. Guess who’s coming
out for Thanksgiving? Can you handle five full days of this noise?

I gasp when I read it.
Everything okay? Tristan signs.
More than okay. I show him the text. She’s my best friend. We went to Quincy

together.

Nice. He pulls out his laptop and gets situated for the lecture. Is she as cute as you?
Last I checked she had a boyfriend or twelve. I’m sure Kaya would fall into insta-love

with someone like Tristan. It would be easy to do. He’s more or less handsome, generally
speaking, and he’s nice in every capacity.

The lecture gets underway, and my mind starts to wander. Kaya is going to meet

Blake. I can hardly contain myself at the thought. She is going to flip when she sees that
glossy dark hair, those marbled sage-colored eyes. And when he smiles it’s as if the
whole world has shifted its attention to you. I’m sure Kaya will have no problem declaring
her love for both Tristan and Blake. It’s easy to fall in love with Blake. I did.

A breath hitches in my throat. Wait a minute. I glance around the room a moment

stunned at my own revelation. Oh. My. God. I love Blake. I’m in love with him.

The uncontrollable urge to giggle comes over me, and I struggle to swallow it down.

This is happening. It’s already happened. I fell in love so seamlessly I didn’t even notice. I
need to tell him. And, as soon as class is over, I’m going to do just that.

The hour speeds by without me paying any attention to the notes Tristan dutifully

shoots to my laptop. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to review them for next week’s
midterm.

Thanks for everything. I scoop up my things and scoot past his seat. I’m sort of in a

hurry.

Let me know if you want to join that study group in trig, he signs quickly. I’ll probably

be going.

Will do. I traverse my way down the narrow aisle, hoisting my book bag over my

shoulder. A leg pops out straight in front of me at the last minute and sends me flying
down the stairs that lead to the exit. My books and notes scatter everywhere. My laptop
rolls to a thud, landing next to me. I glance up in time to see Courtney with a horrified
look on her face. But Johanna manufactures a look of surprise as she mouths, I’m so
sorry!

Yeah, right. I bet she’s real sorry. Before I know it both the professor and Tristan help

me to my feet. A few other students are kind enough to gather my things and stuff them
into my bag. I go to pick it up, and my shoulder pinches enough for me to cry out in pain.

We’d better get you checked out. Tristan takes my things for me.
So much for declaring my love to anyone.
I glare at Johanna for a moment. Right about now I’d much rather declare my hatred.

She did that on purpose. And as much as I do want to hate her for being so ridiculously
cruel, the only real emotion I can muster for her is pity. She’s used to getting everything
she wants, and I have a feeling what she wants is what I already have, Blake Daniels.

After a brief, yet effective, visit to the campus clinic, I convince Tristan to drive me to the
body shop where Blake works. He pointed it out once as we drove by with its oversized
sign out front that reads Joe’s Automotive. It’s about twenty minutes from campus, so in
exchange for hauling me out here, I promised Tristan I’d talk Kaya into going on a double
date with us when she comes to visit. Kaya is a bit boy crazy, so already I know she’ll be
the last to mind.

I glance down at my arm wrapped in a sling because, no thanks to Johanna’s violent

jealous streak, I seem to have sprained my shoulder. But I swear it feels fine, just a little
pinch here and there.

Tristan pulls into the lot, and I spot Blake under the wheel-well of a bright red sedan.
Thank you, I see him.
Tristan leans over the dashboard to get a better look at the garage. Why don’t you

find out when he’s off? If he has a few more hours, I’ll buy you a burger, and we can get a
head start on that paper for Lit.

That’s nice of you.
I hop out and head over. An older man with a sour face and double chin asks if he can

help me.

I pull out my phone and flash him my standard Hello, my name is Annie, and I’m deaf

note.

“Deaf?” He must have shouted it because Blake rolls from under the car he’s working

on, and his face breaks out in an affectionate grin just for me. He’s wearing a blue jumper
covered in greasy patches, and it makes him that much more attractive.

Sorry to interrupt. I flash my phone.
His eyes dart straight to my sling. “What happened?” His face fills with concern as he

ushers me away from his boss.

I’m fine. I’m a klutz, that’s all. I just thought I’d stop by and see when you

get off. I should have called. I don’t know what I was thinking.

Blake nods to the older man. “When can I take off, Joe?”
“Go home.” He waves us away as he heads back into the garage.
We head to Tristan’s truck together, and I collect my things. Tristan eyes Blake with a

weary look. I’m not sure why, but he’s not a fan of Blake’s. It seems to be a theme with
the men in my life.

Tristan signs to me. He’s asking what really happened to your arm.
I turn to Blake and sigh before texting. I was in a hurry, and one of the girls

thought it would be fun to watch me fly. I would have had it down if it weren’t
for that whole gravity thing.

Blake’s mouth opens then closes. The distinct look of hurt crosses his features.
“What kind of a person—girl—would do that?”
The kind that can’t have you, I want to say but don’t.
We wave Tristan off, and Blake gives me a quick tour of the shop.
“I’m working on this puppy.” He kicks the bumper of the red Toyota I found him

tucked under. His eyes weigh heavy on a motorcycle to his right.

Is it hard for you to be around the bike?
He swallows hard, answering the question with a bob of his Adam’s apple. “Damn

hard.”

Do you ride?
“Used to. Loved it, too.”
Maybe when my arm is better you can take me. I’ve always wanted to try.

Of course my mother will kill me. :)

He pulls his cheeks back. “I don’t know.” Blake presses out a smile all for me. His

arms find my waist as he tucks a kiss high on my cheek. “I would never in a million years
do anything to put you in harm’s way.” He says it slow, deliberate.

You think it’s too dangerous?
“No—it’s just”—he shakes his head—“I haven’t been on one since Ben died.”
Then we’ll do it together.
“You sure?” His beautiful eyes squint into mine, and, for the first time, I see a thread

of fear in them.

Are you afraid?
His lips twist to the side before he gives a sheepish grin. Blake gently takes the phone

from me and types into it. I’m a guy. I’ll be the last person to admit to my
girlfriend that I’m afraid of anything.

A fire rips from my feet to my temples. “Girlfriend,” I mouth looking up into his

beaming beautiful face. Hell, I wanted to say it.

Blake spins me around and lands a feathery kiss over my lips. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper, afraid my vocal cords might have gotten a little too involved.
“You want to grab a bite across the street?” His thick brows furrow, tenting those

glassy jade eyes, and I want to take a bite all right.

I would rather go to your place.

The Golden Oaks Horse Ranch is acre after acre of sprawling green lawns. Multiple corrals
dot the vicinity as schoolgirls take the horses out for a walk. In the distance I see a black
beautiful beast traversing hurdles, training for what I think is dressage. Kaya rides.
Horses have always been her thing, so I’ve been exposed by proxy. I’m more of a feed
them an apple and pet their velvet noses type of girl.

“You realize when your brothers discover I brought you here, I’ll be a dead man.”

Blake raises his brows as he steps out of his bedroom with his hair still beaded with water
from the shower. We hit a drive-through and picked up a few burgers that we ate on the
way over. Blake said he needed a quick shower because he was grimy. I tried to tell him
that I didn’t mind, and, God did I ever not mind. Blake is gorgeous with or without a hard
day’s work staining his body. He strides into the living room nice and slow. His T-shirt
clings to his body annunciating each hard line of his perfect pecs, those well-defined abs.

You have nothing to fear. I flash the phone at him then take it back. I was

serious about the motorcycle. I don’t want you to deny yourself something you
enjoyed for so long. I don’t think your brother would either.

His chest expands with his next breath. “You’re right.” He holds his hand out and nods

at my phone. I let it slip into his hand as he types something out. I like it like this with
Blake, sharing my phone, sharing our kisses. But I can’t help but wonder if everything
about me moves too slowly for him. Benji would probably give me an ass kicking
for being such a wimp. But then he doesn’t have to deal with the fallout of his
death. I do.

“Fallout?” I mouth.
He shakes his head as he takes me by the hand. “Trust me, its more drama than it’s

worth.”

I get that it’s hard for him. But I do appreciate it when he opens up to me.
Whenever you want to talk about him—I’m here for you.
“Thank you.” Blake lands a soft kiss on my temple.
The truth is I want to talk about everything under the sun with Blake. It’s nice to hear

a guy’s perspective on things like with Tristan, or some of the other boys I’ve gotten to
know throughout the years, but with Blake everything takes on a new dimension. With
Blake it’s deep waters where as before it was shallow ground. I’m fascinated by him in far
too many ways.

My hand drifts down to his stomach, and I inch my fingers up his shirt. I’m ready for

whatever else Blake Daniels is ready to give me. I untie the sling from the back of my
neck and take it off.

“You need that.” He tries to replace it, but I push his hand down from the sling to the

bottom of my sweater.

I don’t need this either.
Blake latches onto my eyes, and we have a brief standoff that speaks louder than any

words—louder than the silence that engulfs my world.

“Annie,” he says it with an inherent sadness. His eyes tell me how grievous it is for

him to take this next step with me, and I can’t help but wonder why.

What’s the matter? My emotions are rolling like the tide, and I can feel them

looking to crash right here in his brother’s carriage house.

He carefully takes my phone. I just don’t want you to think I’m taking

advantage of you.

A moment bleats by without words or notes or whispers. A horrible ache grips me.

What if this is the end? The part when he very gently tells me we could never work. A
ripe anger percolates through me without warning. The last thing I wanted when I came
to see Blake was to get mad at him. Ironically, I came to profess my feelings. I sort of
hoped he would do the same.

If I were some other girl, you wouldn’t be saying that to me. I let my dark,

non-enthused expression say everything else.

He squints out a heartfelt smile. “You’re right.”
I take a breath and glance at the door. I can text Marley or Tristan, and they’ll be here

in a half hour. But my heart breaks because not one part of me wants to leave.

So I’m just Disability Girl to you? I’m deaf, so you’re playing along and

being nice to me? Tears warble, blurring my vision.

“No,” he says it so loud his voice vibrates over my chest. He shouted as if demanding I

hear. The vibrations, the distended cords in his neck, give it away. Blake pulls me in by

the waist, his hands riding up over my back in a comforting manner. “I swear we’re
good.” He takes my phone and types into it. You’re mine, Annie. I wouldn’t want it
any other way. If I wanted to be just friends with you, then we would be. You
and I are together. This—he taps his chest and mine—is real. I’m in this for the
long haul. You are the only girl for me.

A lone tear rolls down my cheek, and Blake kisses it away before it has a chance to

fall.

I bite hard over my lip to keep from bawling as I tap into my keyboard. Then why in

the world would you not want me?

“Want you?” His head tips back a moment. “God, I want you.” He looks right at me,

holding me by the shoulders as he speaks slow and clear. “All of you, Annie. I want your
heart, your body—and, yes, I want both of those in my bed. You own me, Annie. I’m all
yours. I’m not going anywhere or looking anywhere else.”

A swell of relief covers me, it submerges me in its beautiful waters and I want to

drown in this joy, a very happy girl.

“Blake,” I whisper his name like I’ve practiced so many times when I’m alone. “Thank

you.”

Now, it’s his eyes that are welling up with tears. “Do you know how much I love

hearing you?” He shakes his head as he taps into my phone with a marked aggression. I
have to tell you something I’ve been waiting to say for quite some time. His
eyes press into mine. “I am in love with you, Annie Edwards.” He holds my gaze, his lips
curving into a brilliant smile. I love you. I’d move entire cities, rearrange the
continents to keep you safe—in my arms—he leans in ever so close—in my bed.
You’re the woman I want by my side for the rest of my life. And that I can say
with certainty. Blake points to himself then crosses his arms over his chest before
pointing to me—the ASL sign for I love you. He breaks out in a giant grin, his eyes never
leaving mine.

My lips tremble as I bite down on them. I love you, too. I sign back just the way he

did. Blake’s eyes enlarge. And now I’d like to teach him something new. I hold up my
hand with my middle and ring fingers down, horns up (pinky and forefinger), thumb out.

“Rock on?” He shakes his head as his grin spreads wide.
Shorthand for I love you. I show him my phone.
He holds up his hand, mirroring mine. “I love you,” he mouths before his lips cover

mine.

Blake pulls back a moment. “I want everything with you, Annie.” He glances down at

my body then up again. “If you’re feeling ready to move things along, so am I. This is
about us.” His mouth moves slowly, methodically. “I want you to feel comfortable. I

would never force you to do something you didn’t want.”

A coy smile creeps up the side of my face. I’m ready to move things along. I’m

putting down the phone now. I shake it a moment before setting it on the coffee
table.

“Okay.” A slow, sexy grin flirts with his lips. Blake knows how to smile with his entire

being. The joy on his face shines through like the sun, and it makes me feel amazing
knowing I put it there. “But how about we work our way up to the big event,” he mouths
carefully. “I want to do something beautiful that you won’t forget.”

Sounds like more waiting to me. I don’t stop the disdain from taking over my face as I

reach for the phone, but Blake gently lands his hand over mine.

“You said you were putting it down.” He pulls us to the rug in front of the fireplace.

The flames blink on and off so quick they look like an illusion. “There’s something I’ve
wanted to do for you.” Blake reaches over and grabs a guitar from the corner. That sad
ache returns to his eyes. “Annie, I want to sing just for you.” Tears come to him again
because it hurts him to know I can’t hear it.

I nod and get on my knees. My fingers grip the bottom of his T-shirt, pulling it right off

his body before he can protest.

I hold a finger up and do the same to my sweater. Blake blows out a breath as his

eyes roam over my pale skin, my pink lace bra that shows my nipples right through. I
straddle him from behind and lay my chest over his bare back, dotting a kiss to his ear.
Gently, I cup my hand over his throat.

“Go,” I whisper in his ear.
Blake turns and stares into me sweetly with that constant look of anguish alive in his

gaze. I wish it didn’t pain him that I can’t hear, but knowing that it does makes me want
him ten times more.

His fingers strum the guitar, and I feel the slight buzz trickle through his body to mine.

Blake starts in on a slow song and my hand, my chest, vibrates with a warm beautiful
rhythm. I close my eyes and let Blake’s body slowly rock me while the throbbing of his
voice penetrates my bones. This moment, right here, is the one that binds our souls
together. Blake strums his way into my life one note at a time, headed toward that
special place where his existence becomes inextricably linked with mine, his life an
indelible part of who I am. Blake sings for a beautiful livelong hour. These are the same
songs, the same vibrations I’ve felt at the Black Bear while pressed against the wall. All
those lonely nights I was desperate for any part of Blake and deep down I was afraid
those quivering pulses that were once meant for hundreds of girls in that room are now
just for me.

He pulls the guitar strap off his shoulders and glides the instrument back into the

corner. Blake twists into me until I’m kneeling in front of him. His eyes do a quick sweep
of my partially clad body. His lips curve in approval. I reach back and clasp my fingers to
the back of my bra.

Blake shakes his head. His eyes never leaving mine. “That’s my job.” His grin expands

as his hands find mine, and he unhooks my bra. Carefully he slips it off, his eyes still
trained on mine. I lean back, inviting him to see me like this. The cool cabin air licks over
my body, but my skin burns alive under the supervision of his heated gaze.

“Annie”—he shakes his head just barely as he examines me—“you are so beautiful.”
A groan emits from deep in my core. I love reading his lips. I die a little when he says

things like that. Both Blake and his lips are perfect.

My gaze drops down to his bare chest. Blake has wide set shoulders like a linebacker.

His abs alone are enough to hold my attention for weeks on end. I trace my finger from
his neck to his rock hard stomach, dripping down slow as six weeks.

He touches his finger to his lips before dropping it over my nipple. “I’m going to kiss

you right there.”

I can feel a string of giggles trying to bubble their way up my throat, but I won’t let

them. I want to tell him that he doesn’t need to ask—that an invitation isn’t needed to a
single one of my body parts. He can have them all. They’re all his, for his pleasure alone.
I don’t need them anymore. I only need him.

My hands cup the side of his face as I rub over his stubble with my thumbs.
“Blake Daniels,” I whisper. “I love you.”
His lips tremble. His eyes flood with tears as he comes at me with a kiss. His mouth

falls over mine, hot and weighted. His tongue gently slips next to mine before we engage
in a familiar dance we’ve been spinning in for weeks. Kissing Blake is a high all its own.
His juicy kisses linger before he runs his fiery mouth down my neck. Blake hikes me over
his hips as his mouth finds a home over my left nipple, and I give an aching gasp,
struggling to breathe, struggling to get my bearings.

Oh, God. I can’t think or move or catch my next breath. My lids flutter as I glance

down at his dark hair moving slowly over my chest. This, right here, is enough to push me
over the edge. A pent up energy envelops me all at once, and my body demands to
explode. In a minute I’m going to embarrass myself and orgasm right over his lap. Should
girls have orgasms while their boyfriend’s mouths are getting familiar with them?
Definitely a question for Kaya—or Marley for that matter. For now I evict the thought
from my mind. My voice box trembles out a moan as I try to put a cap on it.

Blake grows in his jeans, and I can feel his hardness beneath my thigh. I slip my legs

around his back and touch my hand over him there. I want him—every last inch of him
tonight. There’s not a thing he could possibly do in the future to make this moment any

more special. His mouth speeds back up my body as he licks a line from my neck to my
temple. A soft series of puffs emit into my ear, and I can tell he’s whispering, forgetting
all about my inabilities because Blake, unlike the rest of the planet, seems to see right
through them. I pull back and take him in with his lustful gaze, those seductive tired
eyes, glassy with red tracks.

“I love you,” he mouths it plain as day, and, in a remarkable way I hear him right in

my heart where it really counts.

I pull back and sign with all my might. I love you, too.
Blake takes up my hand and kisses each and every one of my fingertips. Blake and I

have started a fire. I don’t see how we can possibly put it out.

I lean into his ear and whisper, “Let me stay the night.”
Four vibratory thumps rattle through me, and Blake turns sharply to look at the door. I

don’t need my ears to tell me what’s going on, so I throw on my sweater and tuck my bra
under his couch. Blake tosses on his T-shirt and heads over to see who’s there. He peers
through the peephole before opening it wide.

Bryson stands there wild-eyed and pale.
Shit! I jump up and force a smile as I speed to the door.
Everything okay? I sign, even though the only thing I’d like to do with my hands right

now is knock a vase over my brother’s head.

I heard you hurt yourself. He signs aggressively as if he’s about to hurt someone

himself—namely Blake. What the hell happened?

Wait—how did you know I got hurt? How did you know where to find me?
I glance at Blake, embarrassed that he has to witness the exchange.
Bryson’s ears burn a bright red the way they do when he’s about to blow a gasket.

Little does he know, I am, too.

That tutor of yours came into the bar. He mentioned it to Cole while he was getting a

drink. I know what you’re thinking, but he wasn’t tattling. This is important, Annie. You
need to tell us when things like this happen.

Look at me! I want to scream. I want to claw at my skin and pull my hair out because

obviously my brothers are insane. I am fine! Why are you trying so hard to ruin my life?

I’m not ruining your life, Annie. He reels me toward him until I’m standing out in the

freezing night air. You’re doing that just fine on your own. Say goodnight. I’ll drive you
back to school.

Blake steps outside with us, cradling both my phone and sling in his hand. “Text me.”

He nods before wrapping his arms around me. He rubs my shoulders, soft and smooth,
his fingers strumming up and down my back like the keys on a piano before letting go.

Bryson leads me to the truck and helps me get inside.

I watch in the rearview mirror as Blake shrinks into the distance. He stands in the

freezing night air until we’re out of sight.

I don’t look at my brother. I don’t say goodbye when he drops me off in front of my

dorm.

I don’t care if I speak to either Bryson or Holt ever again.

B L A K E

he sun breaks through the clouds on this early morning as I wait for Annie outside of

Prescott Hall. She left her book bag at my place last night, and I wanted to give it to her
myself. After Bryson dragged her out of the carriage house by the hair, I took a nice long
shower to relieve the pressure. I could have taken her last night. I’m not sure why this
scares me, but it does. Was Annie right? Am I treating her differently because of the fact
she can’t hear? I’d stake my life that I’m not. If I didn’t know better, the thing that scares
me most is letting someone into my life again so completely, especially so soon after
losing Benji. But the truth is there wasn’t a cognitive choice regarding letting Annie into
my life. She seeped into my heart that first night at the Black Bear. The moment I laid
eyes on her, I was infatuated, and that night at the coffee shop I was all in whether or
not I wanted to be. There’s not a second that goes by that she’s not on my mind. And on
the other side of the coin is Benji. He’s infiltrated my thoughts since the second he left
our apartment that night. Little did I know I’d never get a chance to speak to him again—
that the shouting match which took place—those last hateful words, would be all we’d
ever exchange again on this planet. It hurts like a rotary blade in the gut. Each second I
think of the pain I caused him, that he caused me, twists those serrated blades just a
little bit deeper. The heart wrenching lesson is love carefully, at any moment the ones
you care about can evaporate like smoke.

Annie walks out of the building and waves. Her smile lights up this whole dreary

landscape. She outshines the sun with its meager show of affection and pushes Benji
back under the surface for just a little while longer.

“Annie.” I race over and pick her up, kissing her on the lips for all to see. I hope her

brothers are taking note. I didn’t approve one bit of the way Bryson manhandled her last
night like some fucking caveman. But I wanted to give Annie a chance to say her peace. I
know she’s perfectly capable of telling him off. Besides, it hurts a hell of a lot more
coming from the one you love. I should know. “Your books.”

I texted this morning and let her know I’d be bringing them by.
“Thank you,” she mouths, trying to take them from me, but I pull them back.

“Let me walk you to class.” I motion to the English building. I feel like an ass for not

being able to speak to her the way her brothers do. “Will you teach me to sign?”

She bites down on a smile. Her brows furrow a moment as she reaches for her phone.

Only if you want to. I think we communicate just fine. In fact, I love reading
your lips.

I hold out my hand and nod toward the phone. My lips are grateful you love

reading them, but I would very much like to learn.

She takes back the phone. OK. I’ll teach you one day. If you’re good. ;)
I raise a brow at her humor. I think Annie knows that every last part of me wants to

be very, very bad where she’s concerned—at least in the bedroom.

Annie happily leads the way to her next class, holding my hand, twisting my fingers

with hers, her chest bubbling with her silent brand of laughter. My fingers, my hand, my
entire arm electrifies from her touch. An entire series of pinpricks travel up my body from
the excitement of having this gorgeous girl by my side. It’s funny because this is normally
when you would engage in small talk about the lousy weather or our upcoming plans for
Halloween night this Friday, but instead we’re swallowed in silence, and as long as I’m
with Annie, holding her hand, I don’t mind one bit. It feels golden, satiating. Every
moment with her feels like enough.

She stops in front of the English building and nods to the bodies bustling through the

door.

“I guess this is where we part ways.” I carefully place the book bag into her arms.

“Did everything go okay with your brother last night?”

Her gaze dips to the concrete as she gives a slight nod. She pulls out her phone and

starts typing. He’s threatening to pull the band from the Black Bear. He’s being
unreasonable. I reminded him that I’m part owner. He thought I was being
cute. Anyway, you’re fine. I think all we need is for my brothers to get to know
you a little better. Would you mind coming to my house next Saturday night
for dinner? I promise, my mother is harmless. If I can get her to see how
wonderful you are, I just know my brothers will back off.

“Meet the family?” I grin like a fool. “I would love to.”
My cell goes off. I spot Olivia’s name before sinking it back into my pocket. The last

thing I want to do is explain the heroics I’m attempting in that arena of my life. I know
the truth will bubble to the surface sooner than later, but, given the circumstances, I’d
rather hold off until after the meet and greet with her family.

“Do you still love me?” I tease.
She pinches her fingers an inch apart, and I close my eyes, a dry laugh buried in my

chest.

“I love you,” I say it crisp and clear, and it shreds me that she’ll never hear it.
Annie presses a kiss over my lips that feels like every spring morning—hell, every

Christmas morning, I’ve ever had the privilege of. A dull ache goes off in my belly
because I know that Benji will never get to meet the girl who stole my heart.

Someone comes up from the side and waves to get her attention, Tristan—the little

punk who sent Annie’s brother over in a rage.

Annie gives me another light peck. “See you later,” she mouths as she meets him by

the stairs. He sinks his hand against her lower back as if it belonged there. Dude, really?
He keeps that up and he’ll be lucky to graduate with limbs. I’m not into other guys
touching my girl—for sure not his French ass.

I pull my phone out and check out Olivia’s text.
At the doctor’s. Come quick.

I speed down to Jepson, nearly driving myself off an embankment in the process. I had to
take a moment and remind myself no one is better off with me dead at this point—with
the exception of Annie’s brothers, but they’re rather pointless themselves.

Olivia’s doctor is located in a building right across from the Jepson Medical Center

where she’s due to deliver in a little over a month. In my mind I have a warped vision of
what it’s going to be like to hold this tiny human in my arms for the very first time. The
first thing I want to do after welcoming the tiny being into this world is apologize for what
a cruel and cold place it really is. Then I plan on making an entire slew of promises that
involve enjoying this earthly experience to its maximum, starting with loving your family
and those God puts by your side because they’re there for a reason even if you think all
they aspire to do is annoy you and take up space. That about sums up my relationship
with both Ben and my father. Wyatt is a little too removed from my reality but still a vital
cog that keeps this wheel known as my life spinning. I want to give this child—my child,
the world. And I can’t imagine doing that without Annie by my side. A thousand ways to
break the news to her formulate in my mind and fail to launch just as quickly. What in the
hell is Annie going to think? I can hardly support myself at this stage of the game let
alone a child who requires round the clock care and a steady stream of diapers. And what
would Annie’s role be in this mess? Do I really expect her to step in as some maternal
figure to a child she’ll meet in just a few weeks? The timing couldn’t be worse, but that’s
my life all over.

I race into the office, and the receptionist takes me to the back where I find Olivia in a

darkened room lying on a table in a paper gown. She looks sickly and pale, dark circles

ring under her eyes, and her lips look deflated, her fingers hang off the side of the table,
flaccid as if she has one foot in the grave.

“You came this close to missing the show.” She holds out her hand, and I take it. “Pull

up a seat.”

“What’s going on? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” I want to shake both her and the

ultra sound tech just hoping the answers will fall out of them like hard to get change from
the belly of a piggy bank.

“Why don’t you tell him the news?” Olivia looks to the woman administering the ultra

sound. Her translucent gray hair is wrapped in a bun, and I can’t help but think it looks
like someone plucked a jellyfish out of an aquarium and plopped it on her head.

“News?” I can’t handle any bad news at this point. The universe has to know that any

more crap “news” will simply fucking have to go to someone else. Losing my brother, my
best friend, was enough pain and agony for two lifetimes, both his and mine.

The older woman crinkles her dry lips. “This, right here, is your baby.” She pulls the

instrument over Olivia’s glistening stomach, and a shadowy image appears over the
screen. A beautiful face, full cheeks, tiny lips that appear to be moving.

The room takes on a new energy. The world warps and twists, bending its own ear

and willful gaze to the tiny little being projected onto the oversized screen.

“My God.” It’s all I can say. It’s all that’s needed. Set before me is a true miracle.
Tears come to my eyes, and I wipe them away. I watch as the tiny limbs move while

the baby twists lethargically from one position to the next.

“Would you like to know the gender?” The tech moves the image toward the murky

face again, not wanting to give anything away without permission.

First, I was simply having a baby, and now the final piece of the puzzle is available to

us at last. A baby always sounded a little nebulous in nature, but assigning it a gender is
something indelible that stays with you forever. You can say I have a son or I have a
daughter for the rest of your days, but I’m having a baby is strictly relegated to the here
and now.

“Do you want to know?” I look to Olivia. Her dark hair is pulled back in a bun with

shards spearing from all sides like a series of sharpened blades. Her lips are impeccably
drawn in, cartoonish in nature with the outline ten shades darker than what she chose to
color them in with. Her eyes are painted like a cat’s with the wingtips on her upper lid
transcending too far past her brows. Olivia devotes hours to perfecting her look each day,
worshiping hard at the altar of her vanity. It’s hard to believe she’s going to be a mother
—that she could potentially be in charge of the wellbeing of another living soul. But I
suppose, at the end of the legal day, she isn’t going to be more than a bodily warehouse
that wants nothing more than to have its interior vacated and tightened to perfection

once again. Olivia hasn’t cared for anyone’s needs but her own for the ten years I’ve
known her. Benji knew it and pointed it out often, but it didn’t stop me from spending
time with her.

“I already know what the little shit is.” Olivia plucks out a cigarette from her purse

without looking. “Don’t get your asshole in a knot. It’s not lit. I just need something to do
with my hands. You have my word.” She shears the air with her comments as if they
were a threat. But those last few words came out laced with drama, dripping with
sarcasm.

Olivia’s word is useless. That’s the one worldly truth this baby can cling to.
“I guess if you already know then I want to know.” I’m not sure how Olivia purports to

know since the tech just asked as if we were equally uninformed, but, deep down, a part
of me is curious whether I’ll be sitting in the stands for football practice or hanging out in
the wings during ballet rehearsal. My heart starts with the dramatics, first trying to jump
up my throat then throwing itself around my ribcage like a punk rocker in a mosh pit. My
body heats up ten degrees, and my back feels as if it might combust. From now until
eternity this being is going to be set in stone, boy or girl, it all happens now. I wish to
God Annie was with me, holding my hand.

“Congratulations to the both of you.” The silver-haired woman grins for a brief

moment without taking her gaze from the screen. The blue light from the monitor reflects
in her glasses, and all I see is the baby blipping in and out of existence in this shadowed
game of hide-n-seek. “You’re having a boy.”

“A boy.” My voice cracks. A boy, just like Ben and me. I take a deep breath. I can do

this. Olivia and I can do this. She can parent from the sidelines for all I care, but every kid
should at least meet their mother.

The ultrasound tech wipes the goo from Olivia’s belly before leaving the room.
“It’s a boy.” I pull Olivia into a tight embrace whether she wants in on it or not. Her

arms wrap around my back and linger. That’s familiar territory for Olivia. She’s a man-
eater, and I’m not too sure how many men she’s been devouring since she’s been with
child, but by the way her limbs are still wrapped around mine, she’s been missing the
human touch. Then the unthinkable happens. Olivia breaks down in sobs, deep wells of
stored emotion. All of the pent up grief she’s harbored for the past few months lets loose
like a flood, and she drenches my shoulder with her pain. The glacier that is Olivia
Cameron is starting to crack, and the boiling pot of water that’s causing the thaw just
happens to be stowed away in her belly.

“We can do this.” I pull back and gently wipe her tears away.
Her eyes are twin pools of crimson. Her lips are bloated, her cheeks fuller than ever

before. I loved her once. Then everything got fucked up, and here we are. But that

doesn’t mean we can’t meet in the middle and shepherd this sweet baby boy through the
thorny trails of life.

She nods pulling herself up to a sitting position. “You can do this.”
I touch my hand to her hard belly. “And I will.”

Halloween night at the Black Bear is a funfest and a mind fuck all at once. Hanging bats,
floating ghosts, girls dressed like strippers under the loose guise of a Disney princess. My
head throbs just trying to make my way through the crowd in the dimly lit room. I’m a
thousand percent certain that the fire code has been exceeded twice over because in all
the months we’ve performed here, I’ve never seen it so thick with bodies.

Annie sits on the table with her back straight against the wall, a butterfly with her

wings pinned to the wax board. She’s beautiful—ethereal with her hair loose and wild.
Her camera pointed at every direction at once. She reminds me of Benji that way, always
observing the world through the lens. The eternal observer. The overseer of all things
chaos.

I’ve been meaning to retrieve Benji’s camera from my father’s hovel. That is if it’s still

there, if it hasn’t been lifted by Jeff the boarder and pawned for cash—rolled into a blunt,
gone up in smoke like my brother. Ben mentioned he left it at Pop’s somewhere in the
middle closet while hanging out there for a few nights. He also mentioned it might be at
Olivia’s, and, if that’s the case, it’s a lost cause. Olivia will probably want cash for it, but
that’s just because she’s Olivia. She’s a taker in every capacity. It doesn’t surprise me
anymore. Or at least it shouldn’t.

The lyrics stream out of my mouth on autopilot, but I can’t take my eyes off Annie.

She’s beautiful on a daily basis but tonight she’s a vixen, and my entire body is begging
for one more hit of what we shared earlier this week. She’s wearing tiny black cat ears, a
tight black top, and matching jeans, a long furry tail and kitten heels to complete the
look. I can see the whiskers painted on her cheeks from here, and that delicious pink
mouth I want to cover with mine. Annie is no girl, she’s all woman, and I’m dying to make
her mine, pin her to my wax board with my body. I can’t help it. I don’t give a shit if her
brothers are in the room. If they’re loading their sawed off shotguns while I sing every
song of the night directly to her.

The last set begins as it nears midnight.
The crowd pushes against the stage. Girls wearing not much more than lingerie hop

up next to me, gyrating what their mama’s gave them, grinding their hips into my legs.
Where the hell is security? At the very least, the Edwards brothers should pluck them off

with an oversized net. The slutty cop, the sexed-up schoolgirl, and an entire slew of half-
dressed princesses dangle from my limbs.

It’s hotter than an inferno up here, and, when the guitar solo hits, I rip off my T-shirt

just to keep from passing out. The room explodes with riotous approval. I swear I can see
Annie blush from here. I’ve been working on a song all for her. It’s not ready yet, and I
want to get it just right before I belt it out at the Black Bear.

Johanna, the traffic-stopping anaconda climbs the stage and glues herself to the left

side of my body. Try as I might to evict her, she’s riding my thigh like a mechanical horse.
I look to Holt and flick a finger in the air for him to get this shit under control before I
have to stop the set and do it myself.

I shoot a glance to Annie, and the joy from her face is drained at the sight. Annie isn’t

the jealous type, but I got it out of that French interpreter of hers that it was this girl
right here that sent Annie flying that day she hurt her shoulder. Thank God Annie is fine,
but I don’t take lightly to someone hurting my girl. I hop off the stage leaving the blonde
baffled by my move. I make my way through the crowd still wailing into the mike without
missing a beat. I flick my fingers at Annie, and she shakes her head, petrified. I can’t help
but laugh a little right through the lyrics.

“Come here, Annie. I want to dance with you.” I pull her down from her perch, and

she hands her camera to Baya. The song has about a minute left, and I let it wrap up as
an instrumental with Annie swaying softly in my arms. Her eyes lock with mine as I put
the mike to my lips. “I love you, babe.” I hold up my hand the way she taught me,
shorthand for I love you and smile at, Annie, the most beautiful woman in the room.

The room dissolves in a round of celebratory praise, but fireworks detonate in my

heart because I do believe that was my first public proclamation for the girl who already
holds the title as love of my life.

And then I kiss her. It’s an inadvertent F.U. to her brothers on their home turf, but, in

all fairness, this is her home turf, too. I want the entire world to know that I choose Annie
—that I love her.

Annie buries her face in my neck a moment before coming up for air.
“I love you, too,” she mouths.
The DJ takes over as the band packs up. This is usually the part where I pitch in, but I

think they’ll understand if I opt out just this once.

“You want to get out of here?” I ask Annie, mouthing the words slowly, as she digs

her fingers into my ribs.

Hers eyes widen just past my shoulder, and I turn to find the angry brother brigade

marching my way.

“What’s going on?” Holt expands his chest like he’s looking for a fight. He is. I’m sure

my face looks like a pretty good target. I have no doubt the disagreements we have
about me seeing Annie will be settled with our fists. It’s just a matter of where and when.

Annie signs something over to them. I’ve spent hours glued to the Internet trying to

figure out how to sign, but, she’s quick, and I’m betting I can guess the point she’s trying
to get across simply from the angry glint in her eye.

“Is that so?” He laughs as he looks to me. “Annie says you two are leaving. Just where

do you think you’re taking my sister?”

I glance around the bar for Wyatt. He mentioned he might show tonight, and I have a

feeling I’ll need backup in just a few seconds.

“Wherever she wants.” My hand glides around her waist as I pull her in close. It’s not

lost on me that I’m a pussy using Annie as a human shield. But, in my defense, that
wasn’t my first intention—just a happy coincidence.

Bryson signs something, and she gives an incredulous huff. Annie picks up my hand

and leads me over to her roommate where she retrieves her things.

“Are you guys taking off?” Marley looks from me to Annie.
Annie whips out her phone. We’re going to his place. Don’t expect me home

tonight.

Hot damn. I glance behind me as both Baya and Izzy try to contain their insignificant

others. This little newsflash isn’t going to go over too well.

Annie follows my gaze and holds up a finger before heading back to them.
I try to follow, but Marley pulls me to her. “You know she loves you, right?” Her eyes

fill with concern. Marley is dressed as a belly dancer with her makeup smeared on thick
as a paste giving her a dizzying animated quality. “I mean—she mentioned that you’ve
talked about your feelings, but she’s my roommate, and I really care about her. Don’t
even think of cheating on her, or I’ll knife you.” She says it so cool and matter of fact, I
think I misheard.

“I would never hurt Annie. There’s nobody else I want. Cheating isn’t happening.” I’ve

only met Marley a few times, but there’s definitely something that’s got her ticking like a
bomb. “What’s really going on?”

“Never mind. It’s a me thing. Just got some bad news today, that’s all. Know this,

when a girl loves you with all her heart, you owe her that much at least. And if you
decide to get involved with someone else—do her the courtesy of getting out of your
relationship first. Nobody is holding a gun to your head asking you to lead a double life.”
She screams the last few words at me before taking off toward the exit like a hurricane
on fire.

What the hell was that about? Is she talking about Olivia?
I try to find Annie, but she and her brothers have disappeared. Great. I wouldn’t put it

past her dicey big bros to have paid Marley to chew me out so they could whisk Annie to
safety. I’m sure they’ve got her tied to the back of their truck as they speed their way to
Mommy’s house. They can’t handle the fact she’s grown into a beautiful woman. I get it.
But, at the same time, I don’t.

I thread through the crowd and head for the restroom. A body slams into mine as I

make my way inside and pushes me into a stall. Before I know it, a sweater is coming off,
and my face is plunged down into the soft cushion of oversized tits. I struggle from the
herculean grip this chick’s got on me and pull back hoping to see the face of the girl I
love.

Nope, not Annie.

N I G H T

M A G I C

A N N IE

spot Marley darting out the door in tears and leave Bryson midsentence to go after

her.

The night air is frigid. The moon hangs low and full, glowing like a wafer in the sky—

perfect considering it’s Halloween. Speaking of which, Marley has been raving about the
holiday for weeks. She even made her own elaborate costume that she spent hours
sewing herself. She let me know that as soon as Will came down for the weekend she
was going to do a little belly dance for him in private. Those velvet cuffs of hers are still
yearning to be broken in. I don’t judge Marley’s need for kink. I just want to slap Will
upside the head for not giving it to her. Giving it to her. I frown at the irony.

I flag her down before she crosses the street, and she backtracks.
What’s going on? Are you going to meet with Will? That was stupid. Obviously,

she’s upset, but a part of me is hoping these are happy tears and there’s finally an end to
her misery. I’ve never seen anyone so love sick before. It’s about as pleasant to watch as
oral surgery sans the Novocain.

She shakes her head as she sniffs back tears. The wind pulls her unruly blonde mane

back revealing glittering eyes. “He can’t come. He’ll try tomorrow.” Her lips bloat a ruby
red as she clicks into her phone. A friend of mine who lives in his building says
there might be someone else.

Oh my, God, I’m so sorry. My heart breaks as I type out the rest of my reply. Are

you sure? Maybe this friend is just jealous. I think maybe you should hold off
until you can speak with him in person.

“Oh, I will.” She clicks into her phone. I’m holding back all of my anger. I’ll deal

with the son of a bitch when I see him. Her expression morphs from anger to
concern. “Are you really spending the night with Blake?”

I shrug. I want to. We’ll see. If I’m not home, don’t worry. I’ll be by around

noon. I’m taking Blake to meet my family tomorrow night.

Marley touches her head as if checking for a fever. “Spending the night—meeting the

family? All in one weekend?” She makes a face at the Black Bear. “You should, though,

you’re in love.” She leans in and lands a sweet kiss to my cheek before pulling back and
typing into her phone. I guess I’ll go troll the Internet for some ‘how to keep your
man’ articles—you know, taking one for the team. She digs her pinky into the
corner of her eye before continuing. I envy you. Goodnight.

Marley envies me. I marvel as I head back into the bar. I don’t believe there’s been a

person in my life that’s ever envied me before. But I am in love. My feet hardly touch the
ground as I start in on the search for the man of my dreams. That’s what Blake is.
Actually that’s not entirely true. Blake is more than I could have ever dreamed up, and
that’s the best part. It’s as if reality blindsided me in the best way possible.

I spot Holt and Bryson standing in the entry with Blake between them.
Oh, for God’s sake. Leave him alone. I sign before plucking him out of their clutches.
“We found him stumbling out of the bathroom with this girl, right here, hanging off

him.” Bryson steps back exposing Ms. America—Ms. I’m-going-to-turn-you-into-a -
torpedo, Ms. I’m-going-to-dry-hump-your-boyfriend-on-stage Johanna.

Her hair is rumpled. She’s wearing half as much as she was earlier. I lean in a little. Is

she in her bra or is that a costume? And why is Laney trying to force water down her
throat?

Blake gently lifts my chin. His tender eyes beg me to listen before he ever says a

word. “She attacked me in the restroom. She’s drunk out of her mind.” He winces. “She
shoved her chest in my face. I swear”—he holds up his hands as if to prove a point, but
he doesn’t have to, the disbelief in his eyes says it all—“I had nothing to do with it.”

Johanna gesticulates something to Laney, and a glass of water goes flying.
I’m not surprised by her behavior. I pull both Bryson and Holt to the side. She’s

smashed. I believe Blake. Didn’t you see what he did tonight? He cares about me just like
I care about him.

And we care about you. Holt burns through me with hellfire in his eyes. Annie, this guy

sleeps with girls by the dozens. Girls are throwing themselves at him. You saw that
yourself tonight. He’s probably slept with that girl before. Doesn’t his track record worry
you?

No, he’s changed. He’s a one-woman man, and I happen to be that woman. I widen

my stance as if I’m about to take them on in a brawl. When we were little my brothers
used to let me wrestle with them and pretend that I had them beat just to make me feel
good. Right now I’m thinking I won’t need the ego boost. I’ve got enough rage to propel
me through a good beat down with the two of them. I don’t know what I have to do to
prove that I’m not a little girl anymore! I’m leaving. And don’t you even think of following
me. I’ll see you both tomorrow at Mom’s. I’ll find my own way there.

Blake heads over, and I wrap my arms around his waist as we head out the door. One

of these days my brothers are going to have to let me live my own life. They’re going to
have to realize I’m not a kid anymore. Big surprise for them because that day is today.

When Blake asked where to, I said his place. It takes twenty minutes before we get to
the carriage house. I watch with a slight nostalgic sadness as we drive under the tall,
bronze banner that reads Golden Oakes Ranch.

Blake taps me on the knee and gazes into my eyes with a curve of his lips that sets

my nerves jumping in a celebratory romp. I might be heartbroken over how I left things
with my brothers, but I’m still giddy with excitement at the prospect of what the night
might hold.

“I have a surprise for you.” He mouths it slow and steady, and I may have sighed

while memorizing his lips. He holds a finger up while jotting something down on his
phone. I had planned on asking you to come back to the carriage house tonight
—but only if you wanted. And if you said no I would have given you this
tomorrow. “Come on.” He nods out the door, and we race up the stairs.

Blake scoops me up in his arms, and I feel a giggle escape me. My fingers reflexively

cover my mouth.

“I like you happy.”
You make me happy, I sign and give a shy smile at what I’m about to do next. I call

him over with my finger, and I touch my lips to his ear whispering the sentiment as best I
can.

He pulls back and closes his eyes through a pained smile. “Annie.”
Blake unlocks the door and swings us inside. He turns the light over the kitchen table

and dims it until the inside of the tiny cottage glows a soft shade of pumpkin.

He whisks me over to the sink where two giant bouquets of red roses sit in water like

dozens of beautiful frilly girls ready and willing to paint the town. My mother always said
roses were sexy. That they were the sex-goddess of the botanical kingdom, ready to
unleash their passionate glory on star-crossed lovers that held their petals between them.
I pluck one out and inhale its intoxicating scent, sugar and honey, and sex gods named
Blake, all rolled into one.

“Blake,” I whisper as he gently sets me down.
He plucks one out and hands it to me sweetly. “They’re all for you.”
I pull out my phone. Thank you. They’re beautiful. This entire night has been

magical. Dancing with you at the bar—the words you said in front of everyone
there. It meant a lot to me.

“I want the whole world to know how much you mean to me. I love you, Annie. I want

you right here next to me.” His hand firms over my back and draws me to him in one
quick swoop. “I want you in my life forever. It hurt like hell when Benji died, but
somehow you’ve made everything better.”

You make everything better for me, too. I pull my phone back a moment.

Except one thing…

“What’s that?” Blake looks distraught at the thought that he might be doing something

wrong.

You haven’t shared your body with me yet. Rumor has it you haven’t always

been this stingy. I bite my lip, withholding my budding elation. I’m ready Blake. And
I’m hoping you are, too.

A devilish grin blooms over his face, slow and deliberate as if this were the exact

mischief—the exact kind of physical altercation he wanted to get into tonight. He leans
in, and the spice of his cologne surprises me. His dark hair gleams with shades of blue in
this dull light. His lids grow heavy and serious, and I can’t believe this beautiful man is
mine. Blake takes off his T-shirt and sends it sailing to the other side of the kitchen. He
scoops me into his arms again, and I cradle a single rose between us as he carries me off
to his bedroom. It’s dark inside, cooler with the moonlight spraying its white shadow
across the floor. Blake swipes the comforter off the bed and gently lands me over the
cool, crisp sheets. The bed holds his subtle scent, a heady mixture of wood and citrus,
lime, and spice.

Blake looms over me like a shadow, his broad chest striped with dark lines as I trace

out his abs. He straddles me and unbuttons his jeans, opening them in the front. This is
it. It’s finally happening, and I have to resist the urge to send a text to Kaya and give her
a play by play. All those daydreams, those nighttime fantasies are about to come true
with Blake Daniels, the love of my life, inside of me where I’ve secretly wanted him all
along.

Blake lies over me and crashes his mouth to mine. He dives into me with hot, hungry

kisses that taste like sunshine and mint. Blake rides his hands up my shirt and cups my
breasts in his hands, kneading them softly, making my entire body buck into his to
pronounce the pleasure. A moan tries to roll from my throat, but I won’t let it. I lean up
and evict the sweater from me, right along with my bra. Blake catches my gaze in the
dark with his chest panting, his eyes alive and smiling. He’s on his hands and knees, and
something about seeing him on all fours arouses me far more than I could ever imagine. I
reach down and yank the jeans off his body, his boxers roll right off with them. Blake
peels my skintight leggings off in one quick move, and I lie back completely bared to him
for the very first time.

Blake rides his heated gaze over my body, and a tingle strums through me right down

to my toes.

He touches his finger to his mouth, and I struggle to see his lips. “You are so

beautiful.” I like the way his chest vibrates with the words, the way it forces his breath to
dance off my skin.

I toss my head back and give a soft giggle. My hand glides over his shoulders as I

gently roll him over until he’s lying on his back.

Blake is all man. His chest spans wide, and I take my time smoothing my hand from

one end to the other. I trace down to his abs, then my eyes dip because I can’t contain
myself a second more, and there he is. He’s long and hard, pointing toward the ceiling
with a spear of flesh I’ve ached to see. I touch the tip then collapse my hand over him
and stroke all the long way down. He’s big. He’s huge. Not that I have anything to
juxtapose with, but seeing is believing. My vagina is asking not so subtly for me to run
the other way.

“You are perfect,” I whisper. “Your body is gorgeous.” I try to steady the words, even

and breathless.

Blake pulls me up to him, his entire face beaming as he presses his lips to mine. He

rolls me over until I’m lying on the mattress and tucks his leg between my thighs. His
hand slips down my hip then between my legs, and a heavy breath escapes me. He pulls
back one more time and touches his lips.

“Hit me if I hurt you,” he mouths. Blake mock slaps his face and nods. It dawns on me

that he’s probably asked girls that question a hundred times by whispering it in their ear.
This is different for him. In a way, he’s navigating uncharted waters just like me.

I pull his ear to my lips. “I’ll make sure it hurts.”
A laugh strums through him as he relaxes over me. My lips find his, and I lash out

inside his mouth begging him to love me and not hold back. Blake’s hand cups that
heated part of me that’s been working itself into a frenzy ever since we landed on this
bed, and I move my hips into him encouraging Blake to have me any way he likes.
Something in him loosens as he pins me beneath him with the weight of his body,
spreading my limbs out over the cool sheets like a victory. His hard-on grazes my thigh,
and I fight the urge to shift and land him inside me without any pomp or circumstance, or
condom for that matter. His fingers glide over my wet folds, and I groan. Blake bites
down over my lower lip and nibbles on my mouth as if starting in on dessert. Slowly he
inserts a finger deep inside me, and I wrap my legs around his arm, fighting the urge to
spasm into him. He presses in deeper still, moving in and out as I press my head into the
pillow. My lashes flutter just enough to catch him watching me. Blake dots a kiss over
each of my eyes as he leans to the dresser and comes back with a condom. He holds it

up a moment for me to inspect before tearing the package open. He lands the tiny
phlegm-like disc over himself and smooths it on. Blake reaches for my hand and places it
over the soft skin just under his hard-on, and a groan vibrates through him. Blake Daniels’
balls are a handful, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing and panting all at the same
time. I’m delirious right now, filled with every emotion, so much so that my voice begs to
be invited to the party. I’m so wet I’ve already soaked the bed. Blake’s kisses grow more
fervent. His hand lovingly rides up and down over that heated pool of wanting until I’m
ready to jump out of my skin. My heart thumps so hard, it ricochets throughout my body
with a fury, and I wonder if this intense pleasure has the power to kill me. I believe it
does. I believe Blake holds my heart in his hands, and, if he’s not careful with it, like my
brothers swear he won’t be, he just might cause my beating heart to stop. Blake pulls my
thighs apart, landing my knees high up by my chest, exposing me wide. The cool night air
brushes over me, and I can’t stop looking right into Blake’s reassuring eyes. He guides
himself to me, and I can feel him there. My mouth opens as he navigates himself inside.
He inserts the tip and nods, looking for approval. His eyes heavy and drugged with a mix
of wanting permission and simply riding out a formality. I press my hand to his lower back
and carefully invite him in. A slow burn rips through me, popping and stinging as if I were
impaling myself with a lit sparkler from the Fourth of July. Kaya told me all about her first
time in detail, and what I remember most is the fact she said it burned real good. If she
hadn’t said that—if I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have thought Blake was
tearing right through me. But that wouldn’t have stopped me. Blake and I have dived into
deep waters, and we need to cling to one another until we hit the surface again.

Blake plunges in until his body is pushed as far as it can go into mine. This, right here,

is a beautiful moment. His chest hovers inches over my face, and I lean up to run my
tongue along his heated flesh, kissing it before pressing him in even deeper. Blake rides
in and out slowly at first then picking up speed, slamming into me until it feels as if I
might break, and I want to. I want to shatter into a million pieces and float across the
room. Blake has me reduced to molecules, reduced to primal urges that demand to be
satisfied. I want this night to stretch out forever. I never want to leave his bed. Whitney
Briggs, his garage—they can all find someone else to fill their voids. This is all Blake and I
need to survive. At the least we should hole up in his bedroom for the next three weeks.
A honeymoon adventure minus the wedding rings. Every part of me regrets making plans
to go to my mother’s of all places tomorrow. I want this all night—right through the
weekend—until I’m forced to stare reality in the face. His movements quicken. Blake slips
his hand between my legs and touches me there until I’m shaking in his palm. A cry begs
to rip from my throat, but I swallow it down. Blake has the room spinning. Flashes of light
explode in my mind’s eye as I almost hit my peak. Blake moves his hand away, pumping

himself harder and faster into my body before clutching onto me for dear life. I feel his
violent panting as he shakes and trembles into me. He lands heavy over my body,
heaving, his skin iced with perspiration. We lay like that a good few minutes just trying to
catch our breath. His heart drums over mine, rivaling any song that’s ever vibrated
through my bones. This, right here, is the sweetest rhythm—the most beautiful music I
can hear with my soul.

Blake pours heated wet kisses all over my face. His panting persists as he pulls back

and examines me in this anemic light.

“You okay?”
I nod. “You didn’t break me. I loved it,” I whisper. “And I love you.”
“Annie.” He picks up my hand and lands it far above my head just loving me with the

joy in his eyes as he watches me breathe. “Was that good for you?”

“Yes,” I mouth. God, yes. Yes, yes, yes.
“Did you come?”
Did he just ask that?
I open my mouth uncertain how to answer.
“I’ll take that as a no.”
A sly smile glides up his cheek because I think he’s about to rectify the situation.

B L A K E

nnie looks up at me with a laugh caught in her throat, but she suppresses it¸ lets it

out lower than a whisper. We just rocked the bed and are gearing up for round two.
Although I didn’t take her all the way, I’m determined to change that. I know it’s harder
for girls. I know it’s near impossible on the first try, but I want Annie to have that. My ego
was hoping to gift it to her on the first go around.

I pull my phone off the nightstand. Would you let me hear your voice? There I

asked. I’ve wanted to ask for some time, but she’s careful not to use it, so I figure it
might be a sore subject. My weak Internet research on the subject of signing brought me
to some interesting YouTube videos, some of which addressed the topic of speaking. It’s
more than touchy. Some people felt it was too painful to even try in fear of others judging
them. I need Annie to know I’d never judge her, never think less of her if she had a
difficult time with it. I just want to hear the sound of her beautiful voice and drink it
down. Just once would suffice. Now that would be music, any word my favorite song.

Annie bites down on her lower lip and shakes her head. That smile I put on her face

never leaves.

“Why not?”
She curls into me wrapping her arms and legs around me, shivering. I reach for a

blanket and toss it over us, tucking the edges into her back.

I roll over a bit into the stream of moonlight so she can see my mouth clearly.
“I bet you sound beautiful.” Hell, I know she does.
Annie reaches for my phone. I sound like a cross between a ninety-year-old

woman and a goat.

A dull laugh trembles through me. “What makes you think that?”
Her brows rise as if she’s about to make a point. I went to a regular school when

I was younger (up until 3

grade). My parents thought integration would be

best. I was in special ed with an interpreter. I talked all the time.

I give her a thumbs up. She takes the phone back before continuing.
The kids would tease me. I remember a girl telling me those exact things

(the old lady, the goat). I suspected they were true. My brothers wouldn’t tell
me if they were or weren’t. They said I talked like a pro. I’ve had a ton of
speech therapy. My therapist says I’m okay at it, that I should speak whenever
I like, but that girl is still in the back of my mind. I guess out of all the people
in my life, it was her I chose to believe.

A heavy sadness covers me as I take the phone. I’m sorry you had to go through

that. I wish I were there for you. I would have protected you. We could have
been best friends. My fingers comb through her hair.

Annie giggles softly. Annie is a work of art. I trace her tiny nose, her well-defined lips

that bloom out on the sides like wings, her eyebrows that hitch up at the corners and give
the world the impression she’s constantly amused. I touch my finger over her tiny ears
and silently beg them to open for her.

Annie texts back. We could have done all kinds of inappropriate things

together. She grimaces and types something else in quick. Not that this was
inappropriate. *foot in mouth* This was beautiful.

“It was beautiful.” My lips find hers and stay there for a while before she pulls back

and smiles at me. “You’re beautiful.” I touch my fingers to her lips. I wish she could hear
me say those words.

She types into my phone again. In a few weeks there’s an oral exam in my

Digital Studios class. It’s just a presentation.

“Annie—are you going to do it? You should.” I bear into her, pleading.
I’m afraid.
Afraid. I let the word swill around my mind for a minute. I didn’t fear much until I lost

my brother. It takes losing something that’s vital to your life to put you in that position to
begin with.

I borrow the phone from her. You said you’d help me hop back on a bike. You

do this, and I’ll take you for a ride after. In fact, I’ll come and stand by the
door. Cheer you on. I’ll be your biggest supporter.

I’d like that. She cringes a little before taking the phone back. The idea of

speaking to a room full of my peers is hard enough, but with you there, I’ll be
that much more self-conscious. Something in her loosens. I’ll do it.

“Yes.” I pull her in and hold her a good long while before responding. I’m so proud

of you, Annie. I know you’re going to kill it.

A quiet laugh drifts from her. It will be the shortest speech known to man.

Thank you by the way.

I hold my hand out and shrug as if to say for what?
For being there for me unconditionally. And…for what we’re about to do

next.

I offer a tight squeeze, subtracting any space between us before reaching for the

phone.

You can thank me when it’s over. I pull the blanket back just enough and glide my

hand up and down her body. “Because it’s far from over.” I pause a second looking at her
before typing in one last message. I want you to know that I hate the idea of
anyone being cruel to you, Annie. I may not have been there in the past, but
I’m here now and I’ll do whatever I can to keep that from happening. A part of
me wants to add that I know about the girl who tripped her, the same one that
smothered my face in her tits tonight. I want to tell her that she shouldn’t let her brothers
treat her like a second-class citizen, but I don’t want to drag any of those people into this
bed with us. Instead I land my lips onto hers and move over her like a love song. I race
my tongue down her neck, down her chest and lap over her perfect nipples. I float down
to her belly button, dropping off a kiss before diving down to my final destination. My
mouth settles over her wet slick, and I love her right there, love the fact she’s writhing
beneath me, love the way she’s tugging the shit out of my hair. I tongue Annie for hours
but can’t seem to bring it home for her. Annie pulls me up, laughing with a hint of
sadness at the same time.

“It’s me,” she whispers. “My body is silly.”
“We’ll get you there.” Eventually. I feel terrible that I wasn’t able to do that for her.
A dull grin rides up my cheek as I pull her moist chest to mine.
Practice makes perfect. And I intend to practice a hell of a lot.

Annie and I make love well into the morning. I make sure my lips become acquainted
with every nook and crook that her body has to offer, and Annie returns the favor. Annie
tastes like powdered sugar, soft and buttery, sweet as Christmas morning. I don’t see
how she can ever leave my bed again. All kinds of crazy thoughts sail through my mind,
like the fact I can drive her to Whitney so she never has to go back to her dorm again. A
dull smile comes and goes. I’m sure her brothers will love that idea. My arms float over
her waist, and I pull her in from behind. My hard-on is already ripe to greet her. I try to
fall back asleep, but the sun sizzles over my lids and demands I stay the hell up. I keep
meaning to find a damn curtain for that window.

Annie groans, and I hear it, her beautiful voice strumming through her vocal cords. I

kiss her cheek softly as she rolls into me.

“Morning,” she whispers. Her eyes are half opened. Her hair is rumpled, her makeup

smudged just enough, and she takes my breath away. Annie is sheer perfection 24/7, and
this, right here, just proves my point.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I kiss her temple. I’m not sure if she saw my lips, but I

couldn’t help myself. “Don’t move.” I reach over, grab a condom and roll it on. I push in
from behind nice and slow. I’m sure she’s sore as hell from last night. Annie tucks her hips
into my stomach, and I go for it. My hands cup her chest, and Annie and I say good
morning with our bodies in the best way possible. Every now and again she gives a moan
like a dove being released from a box trap. I’m still waiting for something tangible like my
name, an entire sentence just for my ears only. I’d take a fuck off at this point. Anything
would be a gift. I reach around and try to bring her there with me, but Annie’s body isn’t
having it. I’m starting to feel greedy coming on queue, and here she is just along for the
ride.

“Want to hit the shower?” I nod to the bathroom as my hand glides over the curve of

her hip.

“With you?” she mouths.
“Yes, with me. But if you’d rather go at it alone, I totally get it.”
She shakes her head. “Let’s go.” She gives it in a heated whisper.
We head on in, and I get the water going, pulling Annie’s naked body to mine once

the temperature is nice and warm.

“You should never wear clothes.”
“You should never wear clothes,” she whispers. I’m beginning to admire her tenacity

in refusing to use her voice box.

“We’ll cause a scene wherever we go,” I mouth.
“We should always cause a scene,” she whispers, pulling me into the heated stream. I

watch as she bends her head back and slicks her hair to her skull. Water trails off her
creamy skin. It beads off her supple and alive. Each bead its own magical universe with
Annie as the nexus, the giant sun in this watery solar system. I can’t look away.

I’ve showered with girls. Hell, I’ve done most everything with girls, but everything

with Annie is like the first time. This feels new. This feels beautifully raw and amazing.
Water melts over her skin, her lips, her face and I kiss her wet mouth, dip my fingers
back inside the warmth of her body where they’ve found their new home. I try again to
bring her to the next step this time with my hand, but after a while Annie gently pushes
me away with a mournful smile. I get it. I’m not bringing her closer to a climax, I’m just
making her sore. Crap. I need to fix this. My ego can only take so much. I’d take back
every orgasm I’ve ever gifted any other girl just to give one to Annie.

We finish up and dry off. Annie tosses on my T-shirt, and I love the way it clings to her

damp skin. Just when I think she couldn’t get any hotter, Annie Edwards proves me

wrong.

She flashes her phone at me. I’ll make you breakfast, under one condition.
“As long as you’re cooking—anything.” I mouth the words slowly. It seems unfair that

she has to go the extra mile to communicate with me, and all I have to do is measure my
words out a little slower.

You stay naked. She bites down on her lip mischievously.
A wicked laugh drums through me. “Done.” And how did I meet the perfect girl again?

Who knew it was going to be a blessing and not a curse the day I went to Whitney Briggs
to inform my counselor that I needed to drop my classes.

Annie is the blessing, and Olivia is the curse.
Now there’s something to chew on.
And I’ve yet to tell one about the other.

F A M I L Y

M A T T E R S

A N N IE

hitney Briggs is bathed in rich November golds and auburns as the leaves rain over

the cobblestoned walkways in a show of rich fall color. There’s always been something
about fall, but this fall in particular will stay with me forever. Each year when I see the
trees in their dying glory, it will be like a secret whispered straight to my heart.

Coeds bleed out of Prescott as I run up to my dorm to change while Blake waits in the

lot. He spotted one of his band mates, and I told him I’d meet him back down in a few
minutes. As soon as I open the door, I find Marley sprawled on her bed, face down, her
hair splayed all over in thick, matted chunks. She’s still in her robe, and her back is
bucking in a lively manner. She’s crying.

I flick the lights on and off, and she turns, exposing her tear-stained face.
“He’s coming later so we can talk.” She says talk in air quotes. “This is getting stupid.”
Come with me. I’m bringing Blake home to meet my mom. I could use a

buffer.

“Are you sure?” She scoots to the edge of her mattress. Marley looks as if I just told

her I was headed to Mars on a no return mission.

Yes, I’m sure. Besides, I need you.
She picks up her phone. Can I ask what happened between you and Blake last

night? She bites her lips, making her brows rise and fall like an innuendo.

I go to type out my answer and pause. What happened between Blake and me was

private, intimate. It feels strange exposing all the dirty details. Oh, what the hell, just
one.

Everything.
“Everything?” Her fingers stomp into her phone. You didn’t need to tell me that.

Your ear-to-ear grin said it all! She pulls me into a hug before leaning back so I can
see her lips. “I am so happy for you!”

Thank you. It was magic. So you’ll come to my mother’s?
“Let’s get out of here.”
Marley and I put ourselves together and rush downstairs. We hop into Blake’s truck

and head for the country.

The evergreens line the road like faithful servants stoically awaiting their

assignments. It takes almost forty minutes before we finally pull into my mother’s
driveway. For a brief moment, I thought of inviting my father to this odd menagerie of a
family get together, but that tragedy was quickly averted when I realized I don’t need to
make things more uncomfortable than they already are. My father might be harder to
impress than my brothers. I know he will be. When I was little I had his heart on a string
like a simple helium balloon, and, the day he moved out just prior to the divorce, it felt as
if I was forced to let that balloon go and watch my daddy drift away with it.

We get out and head on in. Mom meets us at the door. Nitro runs up to Blake barking

and jumping.

“Hey, big boy.” Blake scratches him behind the ears before smiling up at my mother.
“Please, excuse him”—Mom reprimands Nitro—“he’s usually very good around people.

He’s very excited to meet you. As am I. I’m Miranda.” She extends her hand, and Blake is
quick to shake it.

“Blake Daniels. Very nice to meet you.” He over annunciates to her as well, and I find

it cute, like a nervous habit he seems to have picked up.

Marley greets my mother. They’ve already met several times, and, judging by the

slight look of relief on my mother’s face, she’s glad I brought Marley along.

Baya, Bryson, Izzy, and Holt are already in the family room. A college game is on TV,

and my brothers throw their hands up in frustration at the screen just as we walk into the
room.

They all stand to greet us, and I see Bryson turning down the volume on the

television. Mom moves us to the veranda out back where she has the patio table set with
gold chargers and crewel embroidered napkins in an array of autumn colors. If my mother
is about doing anything right, it’s the holidays. You can bet she has a box in the attic for
each one, always adding new things to her collection as the years go by.

It’s icy out, so much so that the crisp air actually stings my lungs, but the outdoor

fireplace burns bright, looking magical with the butter yellow maples lining the farthest
side of the yard.

Marley looks to the spread laid out before us. “This looks amazing.”
My mother is a master chef. I flash the phone to both Marley and Blake as we take

our seats next to each other.

Bryson and Holt seem on their best behavior. A little quieter than usual but God

knows I don’t mind. And just when I was thinking of gifting them both a muzzle for
Christmas. Baya and Izzy stream a steady conversation regarding Izzy and Holt’s
upcoming wedding. Every now and again they shift their heads so I can’t make out the

entire conversation.

We start in on Mom’s five course masterpiece, kale and walnut salad, smoked chicken,

savory yams, cranberry stuffing, marinated mushrooms, and, let’s not forget, the Moscow
hot chocolate—wherever it hales from, it’s delicious.

“So Blake”—my mother sets down her fork and signs for my benefit—“tell me about

yourself. I’m dying to know everything. Please fill in the blanks. I don’t even know what
questions to ask.”

My face heats twelve shades. My body still burns from having him inside me. I’m not

sure why, but it feels like I’m wearing a neon sign that reads I gave away my virginity
last night! His penis was much bigger than I imagined. Nobody warned me I might need a
cane to get through the first day. I make a face at my mother as if she consciously let me
down in that arena. Sex isn’t exactly a topic she’s shied away from.

Blake stirs in his seat a moment. I really didn’t tell my mother much about him other

than the fact he’s in a band. I’m pretty sure my brothers have filled her in on whatever it
is they find repulsive about him—most likely the exceptionally large penis they suspect he
has. I bet you could boil down all this tension to a severe case of penis envy. I’m sure if
they knew he spent all night impaling me with it, they’d die on the spot with their heads
flopping down into their mashed potatoes unable to recover. Despite their imaginary
misgivings, Blake is a saint and an excellent boyfriend. Not that I have a long line of
boyfriends to compare him to, but next to poor Marley’s longtime boyfriend, William, or
any of the turkeys Kaya has wasted her time with, I can easily verify his sainthood.

“I’m in a band.” Blake smiles angling his body so I can see his lips. “The 12 Deadly

Sins. I’m the lead singer. On occasion I play guitar.”

“Fascinating.” She leans in a little too excited. “I’ve always been drawn to men who

can sing.”

That explains a lot. Bryson once told me that our dad couldn’t sing a note to save his

life.

She nods for him to continue. “Are you also a student at Whitney Briggs? Annie

mentioned she met you on campus.”

“No, actually.” His features dim as he glances around the table. “Unfortunately, I had

to drop my classes this semester. I’m a junior, on ice for now.” He teases.

That smile my mother has plastered to her face slowly slips away. “What brought you

to that decision?”

The Edwards family in general stems from a long line of academic worship. It sounds

almost hedonistic to abandon the ritual of learning for life on the mean streets of Hollow
Brook, or, in his case, Jepson.

“My brother.” Blake grimaces a moment, and the deep commas in his cheeks cave in.

“One of my brothers passed away last summer. It’s been tough.” His chest expands. “I
needed to get my bearings and square some things away. Plus, we were sharing an
apartment, and I couldn’t afford the rent without him. My other brother, Wyatt, has a
horse ranch. That’s where I’m staying now.”

“We know.” Bryson offers a sterile nod. It’s clear the war is still on—even though it’s

entirely one-sided.

Mom flicks a finger. “Excuse my sons. They’re very protective of their little sister.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” Blake is quick with his reply.
Holt strums his fingers along the table as if he were anxious to tighten the noose

around Blake’s neck. “Tell us about your past. Any skeletons in the closet? What was the
longest relationship you’ve had?”

“Holt.” My mother playfully scolds, but it sounds like something she herself would like

to know.

“No, that’s fine. I have nothing to hide. No skeletons. I’m still working through some

tough stuff, but Annie has been a godsend. If it weren’t for her—these past few months
would have been sheer hell. Excuse my language.”

I reach over and take up his hand at the table.
Eventually small talk ensues between my brothers. Mom casually mentions that she’s

set up an appointment for me at a clinic in Jepson. But I sort of let the conversation die
out. I don’t want the implant to become the crux of our visit. And knowing that Blake
wants me to have it as much as my mother means they’d most likely double-team me.
Once we finish our meals Mom and Baya start to clear the dishes. Izzy and Marley start a
conversation about Marley’s sister, Jemma, who happens to be Izzy’s best friend. The rest
of the visit flies by as we finish up dessert in the family room while my brothers root for
their favorite football team, even though they lose in a record upset. I’m sure there’s
some dizzying metaphor in there regarding the stunning loss and my brothers’ views on
my relationship with Blake, but my head isn’t up for deciphering it.

We exchange pleasant goodbyes with Mom and make our way to the front. A flood of

relief fills me. I thought for sure this afternoon would end up in a pile of broken dishes,
and perhaps broken ribs and legs, but not a bone was shattered, china or not.

“Hey”—Holt nods both Blake and me over—“it was real nice getting to spend some

time with you away from the Black Bear.” He drills his gaze into Blake, but it’s cold and
unfeeling. The words felt more like a threat than they did a kind sentiment. I know my
brother too well. This is just a put on. “Oh!” He fakes an epiphany. “You never did answer
the question. What was your longest relationship? It’s just one of those stupid things that
either says everything or nothing about a person. I sort of blew in and out of relationships
myself until I met Izzy.” He pumps a dry smile my way.

I’d be extremely pissed at Holt if he didn’t just offer Blake an out. That little bit of self-

effacing just may have saved our relationship. I’m not up for taking any more crap from
my brothers.

Blake furrows his brows as he shakes his head. “I don’t really know—a few months to

a year? I guess there was a long one in there somewhere. They never meant much until
now, so I guess we have that in common.”

Holt manufactures a grin. “I guess we do. Say—what was the name of your last

girlfriend?”

Blake’s Adam’s apple rises and falls. “I’m embarrassed to say this, but it was probably

a one-night stand. I used to have a bit of a rock candy addiction.” He looks to me with
regret in his eyes. “Sorry.”

“The long one”’—Holt isn’t letting this go—“you know, the last one you do remember.”
Blake and Holt enter into a silent standoff, just staring one another down as if they’re

about to go for the jugular.

This is ridiculous, I sign to my brother. I don’t appreciate the way you’re treating him

one bit. Knock it off. Say something nice, or just go away.

Blake warms my back with his hand. “No, it’s okay. Her name was Olivia.”
Olivia. My heart thuds a few times abnormally. I think I like her referenced better as

the long one. Giving her a name, that name, makes it sound serious. Olivia sounds
sophisticated. A laceration of pain whips through me at who this Olivia girl might be. I
scowl at my brother. I know his game. Get in my head with this girl’s name, and I won’t
let their ghost of a relationship rest until I’ve extinguished mine. Well, it’s not going to
work.

“Olivia Noster?” Holt’s brows rise, and he looks pleasantly surprised as if he knows

her. But it’s all an act, both Blake and I know it. Holt wants her real last name so he can
probe into Blake’s past looking for some rope to hang him with. I hate to break it to Holt,
but he’s the one who’s going to find his neck cinched, his feet dangling off the ground.

Blake huffs a dry laugh. His eyes close a moment. “No, not that one.” He clasps his

arm over my shoulder.

“Did you love her?” Holt spears him with his gaze.
Blake stills. His chest rises and falls with his next breath, but he doesn’t answer his

question.

“You did.” Holt shrugs. “That’s what I wanted to hear. It’s good. Now with Annie you

have something to gauge your feelings with. First love can be tricky to navigate because
you can’t see the bigger picture.” His jaw pops as if he’s getting angry. “But, then again,
you never forget your first love. It’s just one of those things.”

“We’ll see you around.” Blake pulls me in tighter.

“Later.” Holt doesn’t break eye contact with Blake.
Bryson tries to lure us into a conversation, but I hold up a hand as we make our way

to the truck.

I’m done with my brothers.
We say goodbye to everyone and take off with Marley in the back seat.
It’s a long drive back to campus. This time nature’s sharp beauty isn’t enough to

distract me from my brothers’ distrust.

Who am I kidding? I’m not thinking about my brothers.
All I can think about is this girl who Blake once loved.
Olivia.

Prescott Hall is taking part in a volunteer effort on behalf of Whitney Briggs University
where students take turns serving at a homeless shelter for the entire month. It’s a part
of the Give Thanks—Give Back campaign running through November.

Blake and I have been hit or miss this week. We were together two more times, once

on Sunday and again on Tuesday night when we ditched the movie we were going to see
and hit the carriage house instead. I love being with Blake—physically being with Blake—
our bodies merging as one, his laughter, his moans melting straight into my mouth with
their vibratory approval. Blake and I are all smiles when we’re together. He makes me
insanely happy. Why can’t that be enough for my brothers?

I catch a ride to the homeless shelter with Marley, and we discuss my evolving sex life

all the way down—mostly at red lights when she can read my texts.

I hand her my phone as we park nearby the facility.
I’ll admit, Holt shook me off my foundation a bit with all that talk of ex-

girlfriends. It didn’t help when Blake mentioned that he’d had his fair share of
rock candy. I get it. He’s hot. He sings. Girls want him in their beds. He’s BEEN
in their beds. Heck, I want him in mine. So the fact that he has a track record
shouldn’t throw me for a loop. It’s just that I want to know that I’m doing okay
in that department. I want to know that I don’t suck and that he’s not
disappointed in my moves because, really, I don’t have any.

Marley openly laughs at the idea. “Are you kidding? That boy is in love with you.” She

snatches the phone. Your moves are enough for him. More than enough. That boy
is whipped.

My phone buzzes, and I take it back. It’s a text from Blake. “It’s him,” I whisper.
I’m off a little early. Want to get together? I can pick you up.

A dizzying grin takes over. I can’t believe I can get so giddy over a simple text. I love

having a boyfriend far more than I ever thought I would. I love that my boyfriend just so
happens to be the only one on the planet who has made my stomach squeeze tight. It’s
hard to wrap my head around the fact that he only wants me.

I’m doing volunteer work at the homeless shelter in Jepson. I should be

done in a couple of hours, or, if you like, you can join me. I’m sure another pair
of hands couldn’t hurt.

Blake texts right back. Consider me there. Love you.
My heart melts when I see those last two words.
I love you, too.
The Jepson House, as it’s called, is a large, boxy building with wide electronic doors

that whoosh open onto a stamped concrete floor. It looks polished and modern with its
light blue trim. There are even fashionably dressed mannequins in the display window
that advertise the thrift shop in the back. If you didn’t read the sign, you might mistake it
for a department store. Inside the strong smell of stewed meat and potatoes take over
my senses. I’m not a fan of stewed anything, so, at this point, I have two choices, decide
it smells halfway decent or run all the way home, dry heaving.

Marley points to the back where there’s an assembly line of food set up. We spot a

bunch of girls from our dorm and head over.

Marley speaks to the woman in charge, and before we know it, we’re slinging sweet

potatoes and green beans respectively to the passerbys. It’s mostly single men bundled
for the frosty night ahead. I can’t help but see the distance in their eyes. They all wear
that same tired look, with those same vacant eyes. A few women come by with small
children, and a young boy of about six signs to his mother that he doesn’t like orange
potatoes. I can’t help but light up on the inside. As much as I hate to admit it, life after
Quincy has been a bigger adjustment than I thought. Just seeing them speaking together
in ASL makes my heart sing. Is it wrong that I secretly wish the whole world knew how to
sign? After all we know their language.

I’m not a very big fan either. I sign to the two of them. They have chocolate pudding

at the end of the line. If you smile real nice, I bet they’ll give you two. If not, you can
have mine. We were all promised a meal in exchange for our work, but I doubt any of us
will take them up on the offer. We’d rather they give it to those most in need, not create
a bigger need by feeding all of Prescott Hall.

“You sign!” His mother claps in relief. “He’s learning in school, but it’s tough. None of

the other kids understand him. It’s sad. He was so excited to be a big boy and meet all
the other kids, and now he’s all by himself on the playground.”

My heart breaks for him. I pull out my phone as Marley takes over my duties for a

minute. My name is Annie, and I’m deaf. I would recommend you look into
Quincy. Have you heard of that school? They have all grades.

“Can you read my lips?” She looks puzzled by my ability to understand her.
I give a simple nod as the boy wraps himself around his mother’s leg as if it were a

tree trunk.

“I heard Quincy is expensive. We’re trying to stretch a nickel and things like this”—she

motions around the facility—“is what gets us by on what little we have. I’m at a battered
woman’s shelter with the kids as it is.”

I’m sorry to hear that, I sign. But Quincy has a policy to meet all financial needs if the

parents are unable to. I think your son would be a perfect candidate for one of their
scholarships.

“Really?” The elation she exudes is palpable. She streams out a string of unintelligible

words before signing, You don’t know what this means to my boy. This is like Christmas
for us! She lunges over with a wild hug.

I wish them well before getting back to my duties. In the meantime, Johanna and

another girl I’ve seen around the dorm have taken the spot on the other side of me.
Perfect. The world gives, and it takes away. Johanna has her face spackled with an
inordinate amount of makeup. Her eyes look smeared in kohl as if she were literally
trying to achieve the smoky look by way of a charcoal briquette. Her lips are that tacky
shade of here-come-my-lips star spangled red she insists on punishing the public with. It
looks as if a child drew her out on paper—an angry child with some serious mommy
issues. I try not to make faces as I get back to work. That’s the thing with me, most of
my expressions seem a bit exaggerated, thus I’m terrible at hiding my emotions. I can’t
help it. I want the world to know what I’m thinking, and, if rolling my eyes is what it
takes, so be it.

I avert my gaze to Marley. She knows all about Johanna’s insistence that I make like a

plane and fly away. Marley bears her teeth, looking for a fight on my behalf, and I shake
my head because that’s not what I want. Not here anyway.

Johanna knocks into me with a violent force, pretending to have tripped while shoving

her serving spoon into the stuffing.

“Excuse you!” Marley is pissed. Her face goes up in flames turning strange shades of

pink then magenta.

I wave it off, letting her know it’s a futile effort. We can deal with her later. No use in

ruining what amounts to the only hot meal these people get.

Johanna starts speaking, but her head is turned half way so I don’t quite catch it.

Don’t want to.

She pushes me in the shoulder a little rougher than necessary to get my attention.

“I said stay on your side.” She chomps down on every word with a little more

aggression than I’m used to. The strong odor of vodka hits me in the face like a slap. No
wonder she’s so animated, she’s wasted.

She must have shouted the words because half the room has turned to look at us. I

take a full step toward Marley. I’m avoiding drama at all costs tonight knowing Blake will
be here any minute. With Johanna the vodka-breathing dragon bearing down on me, I
regret extending the invitation.

The girl next to her grimaces, clearly embarrassed by Johanna’s behavior. That makes

me feel just a little bit better. The fewer supporters Ms. Inebriated America has the
better.

“My name is Jody.” She extends her hand, and I shake it quickly.
“Jody—this is Frannie!” Johanna shouts so loud I can feel the vibrations running down

my back. “Frannie is deaf!” She giggles to herself. “Frannie is a deaf head. But she can
read your lips.” She turns to me fully. “Isn’t that right?” Johanna covers her mouth. I can
see her facial muscles moving, her eyes laughing right at me so I know she’s still
speaking.

The familiar scent of leather comes from behind, and I cringe because I’d know that

leather jacket anywhere. Blake is here.

He steps towards Johanna forcefully with his head gesticulating as he has a few

choice words with her I’m sure.

I glance to Marley and mouth, “What’s going on?”
She sends a lightning quick text.
He told her to take her rude, drunk ass and get the hell out.
A dark laugh escapes me. I warm from head to toe as he turns toward me.
“Hi, beautiful.” He squints out a sad smile as he lands a quiet kiss on my cheek.
The organizer asks Johanna to leave the premises, and she unhappily picks up her

“drunk ass,” her designer trust fund treasure of a purse, and struts out the door. The back
of her skirt is tucked into her tights and she’s inadvertently showing off a pair of granny
panties to everyone.

Marley snaps a quick picture and sends it as a mass text captioned, Her rude ass.
Classic.
Blake and I share a laugh.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” The pain in his eyes says it all.
That’s just life. There are nice people, and then there are the Johannas of

the world. I win because I have you. ;)

He shakes his head. “I win because I have you.” Blake both says the words and slowly

signs it out as well. My heart melts. Just when I didn’t think I could love him any more he

fills me further than possible.

Blake takes over her position, and I win twice because I get to stand next to the most

handsome guy in the room for the next hour straight.

An older gentleman in a scruffy coat and fedora comes by, and I scoop him a double

heap of sweet potatoes at his request.

He gets to Blake, and they both freeze, staring at one another like lost sheep.
I tap Blake on the shoulder. His serving spoon is midair, his mouth is open, but he’s

not moving. He’s gone white as a sheet. Finally he dishes the man a heap of stuffing and
folds his arms across his chest with a look of frustration.

“Annie, I’d like for you to meet Boyd Daniels, my father.”
My jaw goes slack. Now I’m the deer in the headlights.
He starts to say something, and Blake holds up a hand to stop him.
“Dad, this is my girlfriend, Annie. She’s beautiful, and sweet, and unfortunately she

can’t hear the drivel you’re mumbling.”

“Is that so?” He looks up at me, and I recognize those speckled amber-green eyes.

Nice to meet you, he signs. My first wife lost her hearing. I made the effort and learned to
speak her language. He gives a dismissive wave. “Ah, I’m rusty.”

No, you’re good. Thank you for that. It’s very nice to meet you.
“Did he just do that?” Blake inches back. “Learn something new about you every day,

Pops. Like the fact you’re homeless.” He gives an exasperated sigh. “Hell, you’re a mess.
I think you qualify.” He plops an extra scoop on his father’s plate. “You hanging out?
We’re almost done.”

“I’ll be over there.” He points to the back of the room before continuing down the line.
I tilt into Blake. I’m completely endeared by his father and saddened at the same

time. We service the backup quickly before he nods to me.

“My dad and I don’t always get along. He seems to like you. You brought out the best

in him.”

We wrap up the end of the line, and Marley comes over and hangs off me for a second

while sticking her tongue out.

“I’m beat!” She laughs. That’s the thing about Marley I love best, she’s the kind of girl

who smiles right through anything. Just like the pain her boyfriend is causing her. It’s
becoming evident he’s never coming to see her. She mentioned that she asked to have a
conversation with him in person, but I doubt that will happen. I think she’s ready for
some answers. Although I don’t know how she’ll get them. He’s pretty elusive. Big Foot
might be easier to have a conversation with.

Blake wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in with that deadly grin on his

face that drenches my panties. I still can’t believe this gorgeous man is all mine to do

what I please with whenever I wish. And, even more, I love that the same is true in
reverse.

“You mind if we sit down with my dad for a few minutes? I’ll take you back to the

dorm if you like.”

I shoot Marley a text letting her know not to wait up.
“Goodnight, you two!” She winks at me before taking off. But there’s a thin strain of

envy on her face, and, this time, it breaks my heart. I’d give anything for Marley to find
her perfect someone. Of course, he’d better know his way around a pair of velvet
handcuffs or two.

We head over and sit with Blake’s father. Gone is the fedora as he shows off a full

head of gray hair. I scour his face for signs of Blake and find them in his strong jawline,
his full brows that are pulled over his eyes like a bridge. He looks hardened by life,
weathered and beaten down by society in general. It makes me sad to see someone so
close to Blake having a tough time.

Blake and his father engage in small talk, mostly about the food, the fact snow is

predicted in the night. His father finishes his meal and pushes the tray back before
staring over at me, scrutinizing me, a little angry for no reason. There’s something off
about him but in a harmless way that makes me question his sanity. Most of the people
here are down on their luck, but a handful have other issues that revolve around mental
health.

“So what are you doing with this fool?” He moves his teeth from side to side, and a

hot pinch ignites in my stomach because I’m starting to categorize him as clinically
insane. For one, Blake isn’t a fool. And, two, watching Boyd Daniels’ teeth shift from side
to side like that made my stomach turn slightly.

I love him. I sign. There. Let’s try some heartfelt feelings on for size.
I love you, too. Blake signs back, and I morph into a giant grinning puddle.
“Hooey for the both of you.” His father grumbles. I squint a little to discern his words.

His scratchy looking beard has prodded toward his lips making it difficult to understand. “I
guess if you’re going to bring a kid in this world, you might as well be in love.” He gets up
and pats my hand. “I’ll see you soon.” He points to Blake. “She’s a keeper.”

“That she is.” His eyes fall to the table a minute as his discomfort becomes palpable.
Boyd settles his hat over his head, and we watch as he leaves the facility.
Should we offer him a ride?
Blake shakes his head. “He wouldn’t take it. Besides, I’m sure he’s fine.”
I thought he said something about bringing a child into this world. He

doesn’t think I’m having a baby, does he? I must look huge in these jeans!

Blake closes his eyes and turns his head away a moment.

He pulls out his phone. You look perfect in those jeans. I’m sure he meant in

the future. In fact a baby with you in the future is something I would very
much look forward to. An incredible sorrow pulls down his features.

Wow, you really plan ahead! I tease. The truth is just the thought of having a

future with Blake—a baby with Blake—sets my body on fire with excitement. The idea of
having a family with this beautiful man makes me feel complete. The future sounds
like an amazing place.

“It will be.” Blake covers my mouth with his, and we share a wild, lashing kiss as if we

were starved for what we craved most—each other. He pulls back and jots something
into his phone. There’s something I always want you to remember. Blake takes my
hand and places it on his heart while looking into my eyes with earnest intent. “I love
you, Annie.” He closes his eyes. “I really do love you.”

I memorize the way his chest vibrates down through my arm when he says those

beautiful words. It feels like magic. It feels like forever.

“You want to head to my place for a while?”
Only if I can spend the night.
He smiles into his phone. Your wish is my command. His eyes gloss over with that

familiar lustful look as he glances down toward my hips. I believe I owe you
something. He cuts those amber prisms right into mine before tapping into his phone
again. And tonight’s the night I’m determined to give it to you.

B L A K E

now falls from the sky, soft like powdered sugar, as Annie and I make our way to the

carriage house. Somehow my father has managed to get himself ingrained in my mind
with that shaggy coat pulled over him, the fedora he’s been known to wear since I was a
kid. Benji and I used to take turns putting it on while doing our best impersonations of
our drunk of a father. You’re fucking stupid! You won’t amount to bear shit! That was our
favorite line of his, but why bear shit we’d wonder? Benji reasoned it was because he
thought we might be eaten by a bear one day. But Benji wasn’t eaten by a bear. He was
eaten by concrete on the corner of Summerland and Pelt. My mood plummets as we get
closer to the carriage house, and now I’m pissed at both my brother and father—but
mostly Pops for being there tonight. That’s not the way I was hoping he’d meet Annie. I’m
not sure what I was hoping for, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. Thank God he didn’t
mention Olivia, but, then again, he was so high when she was around, I doubt he
remembers anything about that tragedy in my life. He did mention the baby. I could
hardly face Annie after that. I’m the one who needs to tell her everything. Me. The last
person she needs to hear the ugly truth from is Pops and his rusty signing skills. Talk
about life throwing you a curveball made of barbed wire. This one landed square in my
nuts. It took me twenty minutes to catch my breath after he said his peace.

I glance over to Annie as the streetlight bathes her in a river of gold. I meant what I

said. I want a future with Annie, and, one day, an entire tribe of children if we can swing
it. It probably doesn’t help that I’ll be adding to our brood in just a few weeks—my brood.
I shake my head into the long stretch of highway just before turning in towards Wyatt’s
ranch. Everything in me screams tell her tonight. My heart breaks knowing that I’m about
to shatter the illusion of who I am so soon after promising her forever. I’m not sure she’ll
want anything to do with me after this. Forever is a goal for people who come in clean
from the beginning. It’s not that I meant to keep things from her, but time kept slipping,
and the moment just never felt right. The fact I’ve waited so long says a hell of a lot and
none of it good. I’ve let fear grip me by the balls, and now I’m going to pay the price.
Story of my life. Truth is, I can trace all this heartache right back to Ben’s death, but I

think that’s the pussy’s way out. It’s time to own up and start talking.

We pull in front of the carriage house, and I kill the engine just staring at the tiny

cottage like it was a waiting tomb. Annie leans in with a smile and licks a line up the side
of my face.

I like where she’s headed, but, first, I believe I owe her something—the truth.
My teeth grind. My gut wrenches at the thought of knocking us right off the pedestal

I’ve put us on. I rub my thumb over her cheek and drink down the affection in her eyes.
Maybe it can wait until morning. My body is aching to make love to Annie about as bad as
she’s letting me know she wants it. God knows I owe her whatever it is she wishes.

I push Olivia and the baby as far out of my mind as I can and carry Annie into the

house as if it were our honeymoon. That’s exactly how I’m going to love her tonight—
wild, unrestrained, unbridled as if this were our first night tied in holy matrimony, like it
was our last night together. I think we might be caught somewhere in between.

Annie offers up a sweet moan straight into my mouth. My tongue goes off in her

mouth wild with lust and a fury I have aimed at myself because these beautiful
exchanges might be numbered. I’ve never wanted to hold onto anyone in my life the way
I want to hold onto Annie. She’s made for me, and, in every single way, I belong to her.
This, right here, is love. Annie in my life forever would complete me. It would fill the hole
in my heart that Ben left behind, and I might even be able to do the unthinkable, live a
big enough life for both my brother and me. I’m going to love harder, live faster, embrace
each day with a renewed vigor because Ben isn’t able to. I owe him that much and more.

Annie tugs at my jacket, and it drops to the floor. Her fingers rake off my shirt before

fiddling with my jeans. I lie her over the couch and pull back enough to catch her
beautiful features glowing in the moonlight.

“I’ll make a fire.” I start to get up, and she pulls me back down.
“We will make our own fire,” she whispers. Annie’s eyes stay trained on mine as she

clasps onto my shoulders. “Blake.” She says my name loud and purposeful. A breath gets
caught in my chest. Her voice is soft and angelically sweet. Her tone is even and clear,
and I’m shocked and thrilled to hear it. “I love you.”

“Annie.” A crushing swell of relief pours from me. There it is. My gift. I pull her into my

arms, grinning from ear-to-ear. Tears come, and I don’t fight them. “I love you, too.” I
smother her face with kisses before pulling back into a stream of moonlight. “Thank you.
Your voice—that was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. You’re perfect. I want to
hear you all the time. Please—never hold back.”

She bites over her lip with a smile. Annie pulls me down into a kiss that’s fueled with

emotion—with the start of our forever—with the magic she’s just dusted the room with by
way of her voice. Annie is an angel in the way she looks, acts, and sounds. There isn’t a

wicked or cruel bone in her body. It’s a miracle she even looked twice at me.

Olivia tries to claw her way to the forefront of my mind, but I’m on lockdown. Tonight

is about Annie and me celebrating our love.

Our clothes disband as we tug and pull our way into oblivion. My hand rides low on

her hip until I’m right there over the most tender part of her. Annie is soaking wet, happy
to see me in the best way possible. My finger pushes inside her, my thumb working her
folds just enough to start the party. I need to get her there tonight. It’s like my brain has
thrown it out to my ego like some sick challenge, and in no way do I want to lose. All of
the stars have lined up. This is our moment. I won’t let a single thing—a single person,
least of all myself—ruin what we have. Every moment that we’ve ever shared is
culminating in this one spectacular night, and to give Annie this gift would top it all off
with a nice, neat bow.

I whisper a dozen I love yous right into her ear without giving it much thought. I can’t

shut it off. I want to tell her I love her, that I need her, on a loop. The words demand to
rip from my throat like a battle cry, like an apology. Her body writhes beneath me. Annie
pulls away from my kisses as she gasps for air. She’s so close, and I want her to take it.

I get off the couch and drop to my knees, slinging her thighs over my shoulders and

go for it. Annie is dripping wet, hot as a bonfire, and I bathe my face a moment before
tracking my tongue up to right where it needs to be. Her fingernails dig into my
shoulders. Her gasps grow with intensity, more audible by the moment. So close. I press
in just enough, loving her with my entire being the only way I know how and don’t relent
until she lets out one last audible cry. Annie shudders, locking her knees over my head,
and I can’t help but smile right into her thigh. A heated gush comes from her. It’s my turn
to take it, and I do—water for my thirsty soul.

Annie coils my hair in her fingers before forcibly pushing me off.
A dark laugh rattles from deep in my chest as I glide over her. I lean in to dot her lips

with a kiss, but she turns away. I bury one in her temple instead before digging my face
into her beautiful hair.

It’s quiet save for the sound of our heavy breathing, the drumming of our hearts. I

want to ask her if she liked that, if she’s ready for more—tell her that I love her, but I’m
soaking in the moment, enjoying the hell out of this too much to pull us out of it.

Our bodies fuse together. Annie was right. This erotic heat is all we need to keep

warm.

We don’t need any assurances to fill the moment.
Annie and I have moved beyond words.
Our love is palpable, tangible, in every sense of the word, real.
Annie is my present—and she’s most certainly my future.

Olivia pops into my dark mind like a demon.
Point taken.

The next day, I take Annie back to Whitney Briggs. We hit her dorm first so she can
shower and change. We didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, just made love again
like we had the entire day to do it. I made breakfast for her this time, and we curled up
watching morning TV. It felt natural, necessary as breathing. I’d move the entire
mountain that Hollow Brook is set on just to have Annie in my bed nightly.

English is her only class of the day, so she asked me to hang out on campus until she’s

through. I promised her a trip to our special spot just above the Witch’s Cauldron. I think
that’s the place I’ll break both her heart and mine trying to explain the crap out of Olivia.
I’m not sure there’s enough time in the world to relay exactly how and why that
relationship came to be. For sure no one can break Olivia down into sound bites.

I head off toward the student union and pick up a catalog for spring semester. It’s

already time to register, but I’ve yet to figure out if it will even be feasible. I’m not sure if
Olivia will keep the baby for a few days then drop it off on my doorstep the first chance
she gets or if I’ll be exiting the hospital with him myself. I might need to sit out the rest
of the school year and save up for fall. I’ve already contacted the daycare center on
campus. As long as I’m fulltime, they’ll watch him for a discounted rate that can be rolled
into my student loans. The only reason I’m at Whitney Briggs is the scholarship I scored
my senior year in high school. Both Benji and I qualified for financial aid to cover the rest.
We were pretty determined to get our degrees. Watching our father roll in and out of AA
all our lives pretty much solidified the fact we wanted out of our crappy neighborhood and
away from good old Pops for good. Not for good. As much as he was spectacularly lame
as a father, we loved him. Hell, I still do. Now Benji isn’t here, and I’m not in school. So
much for all our scholastic dreams coming true.

“Daniels!” A male voice shouts, and I turn, looking into the crowd as the bodies merge

into nearby buildings. Must have imagined it. The thick scent of coffee drifts from
Hallowed Grounds, and I start heading in that direction. Just before I duck inside, a heavy
hand falls onto my shoulder.

I turn to find the unwelcome mug of one of the Edwards brothers. Bryson. Next to him

is his mirror reflection, Holt, with an equally pissed look just for me.

“What’s up?” I nod toward the growing line inside. “You guys want some coffee? I’m

buying.” It’s a friendly gesture on my part, but judging by their long, hardened faces this
isn’t a friendly visit.

“No thanks.” Bryson does a quick sweep of the campus. Half the staff at the Black

Bear attends Briggs. I’m assuming he’ll want to keep the witnesses to a minimum when
he slaughters me.

Holt nods to the parking lot, and we walk over in silence, me like a prisoner headed to

death row. Hell, I won’t make it to death row. They’ll probably shank me before they
speed the hell out of here.

I stop just shy of the forest adjacent to the lot. That’s it. I’m not giving another inch. If

they want to pummel me in the bushes, they’ll have to drag me there first.

“Let’s have it. What’s this about? You want my balls on a platter? Tell me what the

hell for.”

Holt comes at me and shoves me hard into the trunk of a pine.
A shooting pain knifes through my back as a branch impales me just below the

shoulder.

“Shit.” I shove him the hell off me. I’m through with playing nice. I’m fucking pissed. I

don’t really care if these idiots and I ever get along. “I’m not anybody’s bitch so hands off.
Got it?”

“Yeah?” Holt laughs at me through squinted eyes. “What’s Annie to you? Is she your

little bitch?”

Something in me stills. “What the hell’s gotten into you? Don’t talk about her like

that.” I try to push past them, but Bryson stops me cold.

“What does Olivia Cameron mean to you?”
My heart stops. I don’t bother taking my next breath. Shit.
I hold my hands up. “What do you think you know?”
Bryson gives my shoulders a hard shove until I’m pressed into the tree again. I glance

up at the sky as if it were Benji himself. I’m not sure why, but I wish he were here. Not to
double-team the Edwards brothers, but to help me to get the twisted truth out.

“What do we think we know?” Bryson spits the words over my face. “We had a nice

long chat with your ex-girlfriend—but she’s not really your ex is she? I mean she’s having
your kid, so things aren’t that far in the past—are they?”

I swallow hard trying to process what comes next. Shit. I should have told Annie last

night. I should have told her weeks ago.

“Let me tell her.” I don’t even bother trying to make them understand what’s

happening between Olivia and me. There’s too much hate in their eyes, and I’m starting
to understand why.

“No can do, buddy.” Holt looks as if he’s about to draw back and deck me, instead he

closes his eyes and shakes his head. “So Annie doesn’t know.” He doesn’t hide his
disappointment. “Shit. This is big, Blake. I thought for sure she knew and was hiding it.”

He looks to Bryson for a second. “That’s what I get for defending you. Look, this isn’t little
stuff that you can slip under the bridge. Olivia says she’s having this kid in just a few
weeks. When were you planning on telling my sister?” His voice rises through the forest.
It threads right through the branches as it spikes to the sky. I hope to God Benji is
listening in—watching how fast my life has managed to unravel itself. A selfish part of me
would really like for him to take part in this shit storm. “What were you going to do? Take
her on a date to the hospital one night? Oh, by the way, Annie? See that kid? That’s
mine.”

The rage in his eyes, both their eyes, makes me feel lower than worm shit.
“No.” I shake my head, my voice barely audible. “I was going to tell her today.”
“Bullshit!” Bryson gives me another hard shove. “You’re a fucking conman—a player

who’s stringing Annie along for the ride. Dude, did you touch her? Why are you messing
around with her? Can’t you see that Annie is special? She’s different.”

“Annie is special.” A rage brews in me because, all of a sudden, I want to knock their

block heads together. “And not in the way you’re implying.”

I glance away for a moment, and one of them growls at me.
“Annie isn’t the fragile flower you pretend she is.” The words come out with a mean

edge. “She’s a beautiful, grown, intelligent woman.” I lean back into the tree and watch
as my breath plumes out with the fog. “I’ve really fucked things up, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you have.” Holt gives me a light sock to the arm. “Just when I was starting to

like you.”

“And now?”
“And now you stay the hell away from my sister.”
Bryson pulls Holt back as they turn to leave. “Tell your band they can thank you for

ending their run at the Black Bear. Tell them we’re sorry—but, as for you, the only thing
we’re sorry about is the fact you met Annie. She doesn’t have room in her life for a pile of
shit your size.”

They take off in the direction of Annie’s English class and sit on the steps outside the

building like a couple of watchdogs. Then it hits me with the clarity that comes on a cold
night when you realize that morning is on its way and there’s nothing you can do about it.
I thought my life had fractured for the very last time when my brother died, I was wrong.
There would be no coming back from this.

“Now what.” I look to the sky and wait for an answer.
But it doesn’t come.

R O C K A N D R O L L W I T H T H E

P U N C H E S

A N N IE

ristan is animated as the class wraps up. I let him know Kaya would be in town next

week for Thanksgiving and that she’s dying to meet him. True as God. Wouldn’t that be
weird if they turned out to be soul mates? I guess it would be amazing. Maybe then Kaya
would transfer to Whitney. I know Marley would get along great with her as well.

We’ll double date. I sign just before I stuff my things back into my book bag. It’ll be

fun. I’ve always wanted to do things like double date with Kaya, and, now, Tristan, of all
people, will make that possible. Who knows, maybe it’s destiny. Maybe he traveled all the
way from France to meet his Mrs. Right, and that person just so happens to be my bestie.
Maybe they’ll really hit it off, and Kaya will move back to North Carolina where we can
reconstitute our shopping-fu as she called it. Kaya and I knew how to hit the sales rack
like nobody’s business. I sure miss those gossip-filled shopping sprees. Those were
exhilarating times. Blake is everything to me, but he can’t replace Kaya and her panache
for late night trips to the sales rack. I doubt he’d want to. Speaking of Blake—I’d better
hurry up. I bet he’s been accosted by six different girls by now.

Double dating sounds good. Tristan keeps his eyes on the door. Hey, do you know

those guys? They keep looking in this direction.

Half the class has already cleared out, and it’s not until the bustle of bodies drain that

I spot Bryson and Holt at the mouth of the room.

A horrible feeling grips me. Those are my brothers. I speed toward the exit with

Tristan by my side.

What’s wrong? Is everything okay? Did something happen to Mom or Dad? I’m so

panicked I can’t swallow past the fist sitting in my throat.

They’re fine. Bryson glances quickly to Tristan. Baya says you’re all through with

classes for the day. Can we go somewhere private?

Sure. By the way, this is Tristan. He’s my interpreter and tutor. The university paired

us through the students with disabilities program. He signs. A scowl takes over without
meaning to. The only reason I threw that last part in was to ward them off from saying
negative things about Blake. I already know Blake is the reason they’re here. They must

have found out I didn’t go home last night and want to lecture me on STDs—either that
or slap a chastity belt on me.

They share a quick hello with Tristan before whisking me off toward the parking lot.

We hop in Holt’s truck and drive a few minutes to the Black Bear where I’m expecting the
place to be in ruins or burnt to the ground. This secret rendezvous is increasingly morbid.
I have no clue why they’re being so covert. They could hate on Blake at Whitney as easily
as they could here.

We get inside to find Laney, Baya, and Izzy waiting at a table near the back. A thick

feeling of dread lines me. I’m starting to wonder if this is shaping up to be some kind of
intervention in hopes to preserve my virginity. Too late.

What’s this about? I’d like to imagine this might be happy news like another wedding

or a baby, but my brothers have steam shooting from their ears and haven’t really
bothered to hide it.

Is this about Blake? I cut to the chase, taking them in, each with their sorrowful

expression.

“Yes, it is about Blake.” Bryson both signs and speaks for the benefit of those around.

“There’s something you need to know about him.”

I can’t believe this is happening. Is this really happening? I want to bang my head

against the wall just to orient myself to reality.

Holt tenderly bears into me with a horrific sadness in his eyes as if this entire show is

killing him.

“He’s not who you think he is.” Holt closes his eyes. “There’s someone else in his life

that you don’t know about.”

Blake’s crazy father comes to mind. Is that what this is about? Maybe he did

something completely insane last night like stagger in here demanding to see me, and,
now, my brothers think I have a stalker on my hands. But something in me says no, this
isn’t going to have an easy solution that we can all laugh about later.

Just say it! I sign so hard my fingers strain from the effort.
Baya and Izzy hop to their feet and stand on either side of me like bookends.
What? I demand from my brothers.
“Annie”—Bryson swallows hard as if he’s about to cry—“has Blake told you about a girl

named Olivia?”

Olivia? I blink back stunned. Yes. I answer back with just as hard a stance. I don’t

soften in the event they think they’re off the hook for pigeonholing me like this. Today is
the last day that Bryson and Holt Edwards treat their little sister like a porcelain doll. I’m
through with their overprotective bullshit. I know everything there is to know about
Olivia. Are you satisfied? Blake has a past—big fucking deal. I’m the one who’s with him

now, and nothing is going to change that.

Holt’s lips move as he gives a quick interpretation to the girls.
He takes a breath. “Do you know that she’s having his baby?”
Sucker punch. The ground jolts beneath my feet. The wind gets knocked out of me so

fast I think I might pass out.

This is low. I give a wild look to everyone in the vicinity. Cole and Roxy step into our

circle, and I see Baya filling them in. I would never think that you two would come up
with such outrageous lies against the first boy—the first and only man that I’ll ever love. I
try to get my bearings. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’m in love! Their faces fill
with pain. I wish you could understand how much I care for him, but you just can’t seem
to get it through your stupid, thick skulls! I hone in on Bryson. And while you’re
interpreting this, I want you to add the words—I am an ass for tormenting my sister this
way!

Roxy comes up and rubs my shoulder. I take a few steps back just to pull myself

together.

“Annie.” Bryson and Holt come over. “We promise, we are not making any of this up.

This isn’t some manufactured bullshit. It’s real. I’m sorry.”

Holt touches his hand to his chest. “We know how much you care for this guy, that’s

why we waited until we were certain. We spoke with this girl ourselves.”

Really? I’m almost amused. And where did you find her? How do I even know she

exists? If you want me to believe that Blake is a liar then consider yourselves on an even
playing field because I am not believing a word either of you say! My heart hurts because
I can’t imagine why you would make something like this up. Don’t you know all I have to
do is ask Blake myself? I’m sure he’ll take me straight to this girl and prove you’re both
wrong. Can’t you see the only relationship you’re damaging is the one between the three
of us?

Bryson steps in. “The last thing we want is to damage our relationship.”
“Too bad, it’s done!” I scream so hard my throat feels as if it’s on fire. I’ve never

wanted to use my voice so much before in my life. I hope I’ve stung them in the most
intimate way possible.

Bryson cups the side of my face with a pressing hurt in his eyes that I hope never

goes away. “We knew you wouldn’t believe us, Annie. That’s why we brought Olivia here,
so you can speak with her yourself.”

I stagger back. Do I even know these people anymore? Just how far are my brothers

willing to take this charade? What did they do—hire some actress to play the part of
Blake’s ex-girlfriend? I bet she’s wearing one of those maternity cushions over her
stomach. I bet she’s some size two actress that’s strapped one on just for the role. My

heart thumps unnaturally because, on some level, this is starting to feel real. My brothers
have wrapped their words around my neck and are choking me with their lies.

“She’s in the back room.” Holt nods behind the bar. “We’ll go with you.”
A train could hit me. I wouldn’t feel a thing.
No. I glance around at the sea of concerned faces. I’ll take Roxy. She’s the least

connected to the situation, and, in truth, I don’t want anything to do with my brothers or
their significant others at the moment.

We head back with me leading the way. I’m feeling brave—perhaps foolishly so. God,

what if they’re right? How could this be? It couldn’t be because it’s all bullshit.

The small staffroom reeks of whiskey because Holt and Izzy broke a bottle last week

while they were getting frisky. Or at least that’s the story he fed us. God knows if either
of my brothers know what it means to tell the truth anymore.

A girl sits in the dark corner, and it’s not until I come upon her do I notice her huge

belly. It looks real. She looks real. She’s pretty in a throwback kind of way with her
crimson washed hair dipped in a large curl in front, the rest pulled back in a low bun.
There’s a pillbox hat planted square over her head with black netting that shades one
side of her face. Her eyes are wildly overdrawn, and her bloated lips scream a bright fire
engine red. She stands and holds out a cigarette to the side like she’s some actress in a
1950’s movie. A bad one, considering she’s smoking and looks as if she’s about to drop a
newborn right out her ridiculous looking poodle skirt.

It looks like it was slim pickings at the costume department.
How much did my brothers pay you? I hold out my phone so close I nearly slap

her in the face with it. Believe me, I want to.

“Hold it there, Sleeping Beauty.” She takes it from me. “Oh wait,” she sneers a

sarcastic smile. “Sleeping Beauty wasn’t deaf, she was dead.” This is one person whose
lips I wish I couldn’t read. She brings the unlit cigarette to her lips and takes a slow
imaginary drag before typing into it. They didn’t pay me shit, much like that
boyfriend of yours. BTW, he owes me some serious cash.

She starts to head out, and I pull her back. “Tell me this is fake. That the baby you’re

having isn’t Blake’s.” I try to steady the words, to annunciate, but I probably ended up
shouting in twelve different octaves.

Roxy claps her hand to her mouth as tears pool in her eyes for me.
The girl looks from Roxy to me. “I’m sorry, sweet cakes, but this baby is more his than

it is mine.” She’s speaking slowly, probably shouting right back at me. “Look, I don’t know
your crazy ass brothers from Adam, but they tracked me down and said he was breaking
your heart. I’m not sure what that means, but they insisted a little time with me could set
you straight.”

Tears blur my vision. I don’t want to see her lips anymore. I don’t want to see her

anymore. My thoughts detonate in a pool of chaos like a fireworks display gone wrong.

That’s not Blake’s baby. Why are you doing this to me? I thrust the phone in

her face.

Her shoulders sag as she takes the phone back. I’m not that good an actress,

hon. Blake is my baby daddy. Deal with it. She scowls to Roxy. “Can I leave now?”

My fingers punch into my phone as fast as they can.
Do you love him?
“Hell, yes, I love that boy.” She bears into me with those wild, unreasonably cruel

eyes before snatching away my phone. Do yourself a favor and forget about Blake.
He’s mine, and he always will be. Personally, I’m shocked as hell that he’s been
two-timing me with a waif like you. No offense, but you don’t look like his type.

Roxy leans in. “You’re still together?”
It never occurred to me to ask.
“Hell, yes, we’re still together.” Her hand curves over her enormous belly. “Blake and

Livey till the end.” She spears me with black hatred before pulling out her own phone.
You’d better back off, little girl. Blake has other things, other people who are
going to be occupying his time in a very real way. Why do you think he quit
school? He’s saving up for diaper duty. This is me doing you a favor. Find
yourself a nice little boy to play with. Someone your speed. Perhaps a blind
man. You’d make quite a pair.

My hand flies across her face without giving it a second thought.
“Oh my, God,” I whisper. What’s happening? I just hit a pregnant woman. I stagger to

the door, and Roxy pulls me back.

“I’m proud of you.” She over annunciates and gives a thumbs up.
Olivia shoots out of the Black Bear before I have a chance to apologize.
“Let’s go.” I feel my voice box vibrate, and I don’t care at this point.
“You don’t want to go after that bitch. Let her be, Annie.”
I shake my head, still numb from the exchange. “I want to see Blake.”

Roxy speeds us over to the shop like a woman on a mission to sacrifice balls. Not that I
mind the gyrating NASCAR worthy spin to downtown Jepson. I’m so hopped up on rage
that I could have flown here all by my lonesome. But rage isn’t the only thing I’m feeling.
A part of me still doesn’t want to believe it’s true. They must be lies. I close my eyes a
moment because what I want the truth to be and what reality is might be two different

pregnant animals.

We park dead in front of Joe’s Automotive. The corrugated aluminum doors are rolled

wide open, and the shop is filled with busted up cars and motorcycles just waiting for
Blake’s beautiful hands to fix them. I wish Blake could fix this. I wish there wasn’t
anything to fix.

Roxy opens her door. I pull her back.
“I think I should do this alone.” My throat actually feels sore from the workout it’s

getting.

Her chest expands as she weighs the idea. “Give him hell, girl.”
“I plan to,” I whisper as my chest bucks unexpectedly.
“I’ll wait.” She points to her seat.
The cool air hits me like an icy slap to the face as I barrel toward the garage. I spot

Blake in the back with his jumpsuit half off. He has a T-shirt on and a thermal underneath
that. I love it when he’s dressed that way. Something about him reminds me of the first
night we met. I remember that sweet smile I thought made the sun rise, and now here
we are with this horrible truth smelling up the distance between us like horseshit.

“Annie.” He steps over with a heartfelt sorrow in his eyes, just enough to make my

stomach melt and ache all at the same time.

I throw myself at him—wrap my arms around him so tight I can feel his heart racing

against mine. We need to leave. Blake and I need to go to the carriage house where I
can show him how much I love him—how sorry I am to ever be related to either of my
terrible brothers. I pull back and wipe the tears from my eyes.

It was horrible. I show him my phone before continuing. My brothers ambushed

me. They said you’re cheating on me, and there was this mean person
pretending to be your girlfriend. She says she’s having your baby and that I
should stay out of your life. That I should find a blind man to date! What kind
of a monster says that?

Blake stares at the phone an inordinate amount of time trying to digest the gibberish

I’ve just flung in his face.

My hand flies into his shoulder, and I push him a little too hard. “It’s ridiculous right?” I

whisper so hard my throat burns from the effort.

Blake takes a breath and closes his eyes, and then I know.
“Oh, God.” I stumble backwards. “It’s true?” I hardly mouth the words.
Blake keeps his head down while looking at me. He gives a simple nod and nothing

more.

“No.” I shake my head. “You would never do that to me,” I whisper as the tears shoot

out like a fountain. “You couldn’t.”

“I didn’t.” He must have roared the words because I can feel them reverberating over

my skin. “They took the truth and they molded it into something ugly. I’m sorry, Annie. I
should have told you about Olivia right from the beginning, but I was fresh off Ben’s
death and—”

“This is real?” I whisper through the razors lodged in my throat. “Stop using your

brother as an excuse! You have a girlfriend that you conveniently forgot to tell me
about?” My voice box engages on and off, but he winced when I said girlfriend, so I think
he got the gist.

“No, I swear, Olivia isn’t my girlfriend. She used to be but—”
I put my hands to my temple and grip my hair because I want nothing but to pull

every last strand out.

I squeeze my eyes shut and scream at the top of my lungs, “I hate you!” My voice

shrills through my body, rattling my bones as welcome as an earthquake. There. Blake
longed to hear me speak, and now he heard definitively how I feel. I look over at him
with his mask of pain. He’s speaking, but I turn away and run straight to Roxy’s car.

There’s not a thing Blake Daniels has to say that I want to know.

The entire next day I spend hugging my pillow and crying my eyes out. I don’t look at his
text messages. Marley lets me know when he comes to the door, and I just lock myself in
the bathroom until he’s gone. I don’t want any part of his so-called truths or apologies.
My heart is raw, broken. I wish the whole universe would collapse in on itself like a dying
star and disappear.

The next few days drift by in a blur.
Marley has officially broken up with that idiot who was stringing her along. He came

down last night, and I walked out of the bathroom just in time to see her slap him right
across the face.

“Aren’t we a pair,” she says, handing me a hot latte from Hallowed Grounds. She

actually had it in her to get dressed and go to class today. I couldn’t care less about my
classes. I could fail them all, and none of it would matter. Tristan came by this morning
to see if everything was okay, and I told him I had a sore throat. I’m not sure why, but I
was sensing an I-told-you-so if I let the truth spill out. It looks like I’m a liar just like
Blake.

My phone buzzes for the umpteenth time only now it’s my mother.
Be there in twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes? Why would she be here in twenty minutes? Oh my, God she knows! I

shake my head at the phone. The last thing I want to deal with is my mother and her
there-are-other-fish-in-the-sea brand of wisdom.

You don’t have to. I’m fine, really. I bet my brothers couldn’t wait to tell her what

a louse I’d hooked myself to. When did they turn into such tattletales? Not that I mind
that they “tattled” on Blake. They did me a favor, and, ironically, I’m still too mad to
thank them.

What are you talking about? You have an appointment in an hour at the

Gentry Clinic. If all goes well, we can schedule the implants to be inserted
before Christmas!

Oh that. I can practically feel her smiling. I make a face at the word “inserted.” My

mother knows I cringe at the word surgery. She cares for me enough to cater to my
fragile emotional needs unlike Blake. He barreled right over those when he decided to
sleep with me behind his pregnant girlfriend’s back.

I go to tell her to cancel, but my fingers take a U-turn. I’ll be ready and waiting.
In a whirlwind, I shower and dress. I ask Marley to come with me for moral support

but mostly because I hate the thought of leaving my broken hearted roomie alone while
I’m gone. I know the destitute bleakness she’s up against. It’s as if we’ve been
simultaneously thrust into a living hell. A world without sound doesn’t compare to the
pain, the bone-crushing anguish that Blake Daniels has managed to cause.

Mom meets us downstairs and chats up a storm with Marley as she drives us to the

clinic. It’s clear she’s blissfully unaware of the fact I just had my beating heart knifed from
my chest.

I’ve been seen at the Gentry Clinic before. Its walls are plastered with visuals that

explain the inner workings of the human ear. They have a six-foot model of the ear canal
you can crawl through if you wanted. They specialize in all ages and stages of life but
seem to favor pediatrics.

We pull up and head in. Mom buries her nose in her Kindle while Marley and I stare

vacantly at the paltry selection of old magazines, glossy Verandas, bloated back-issues of
People.

When it’s my turn to be seen, I choose to go alone. They sit me in a cushioned room. I

know the drill. They play horrifically loud sounds in my ears, and I sit still while they
marvel at how amazingly deaf I am.

When I’m through, the doctor calls my mother into his office and he both signs and

speaks his findings.

“I’m not one hundred percent sure you are a great candidate for the Excel implant.”

He pauses with a serious look that spells out dead end—and, in a way, I’m relieved.

He might as well have shouted you will never hear in your life, Annie! right in my face.

Of course, I wouldn’t have heard it, but it would have killed my mother just as effectively.
Her chest heaves with a quivering breath. Her features contort with great sadness, and I
want to mimic them, only my heartbreak comes from a boy who’s not even in the room at
the moment. She’s crestfallen that this isn’t going to happen for me.

“But”—a devilish grin widens across the doctor’s cheeks—“I am fairly certain you are a

good candidate. I think you should go ahead with the procedure, Annie. You should be
able to have most of your hearing. I can’t guarantee it will be perfect, but you will hear
and be able to understand everything going on around you.”

My mother claps her hands together before throwing her arms to the ceiling with

elation.

“You’re going to hear, Annie!” She lunges at me with a hug before pulling back.

“You’re going to hear laughter, and music, and the voices of everyone you love.” I read
her lips for perhaps one of the very last times.

I’m going to hear. I sit there stunned for a second time this week. I’m going to hear

music. The thought makes my heart wrench. I’m going to hear the voices of the people I
love—and perhaps even the ones that broke me.

The doctor leans back in his seat as he inspects my mother and me. “Of course, you’ll

need plenty of speech therapy to follow. Shall we schedule the surgery?”

Surgery. There it is. That word, sharp as a scalpel.
Fear comes back to the party. Blake was going to help me get through the things in

life that I feared most. A dull laugh pumps through me at the thought. Something far
greater than any of the fears I could have ever conceived came to fruition. I lost Blake. In
the grand scheme of things, that would have been my greatest fear.

My mother pats my back, trying to pump the answer out of me—at least the one she

wants to hear.

I fill my lungs with a deep, cleansing breath. New hearing, new me.
“Yes. Schedule the surgery,” I say it out loud, and my mother presses her lips together

as the tears start to fall.

It’s time I stop fearing everything so damn much.

Thanksgiving plods into our lives without permission with its thick-spiced scents and pine
festooned decorations. I hate that everyone is so happy and jovial, feasting on pumpkin
pie and sipping eggnog like it’s the best thing in the world.

Kaya is back. I’ve already filled her in on every last detail. At about seven-thirty

tonight we’re meeting up with Tristan at the café on campus for coffee. I can hardly wait

to be a third wheel on their first unofficial date. I frown into my phone. I haven’t been
brave enough to read any of Blake’s text messages. I’ve been plenty tempted, but I
promised myself that I would get through this weekend. It’s been a solid week since the
“incident.” He’s come to the dorm twice and left flowers at the door. Marley told him to
go to hell for me. I could never tell him myself. I’ve tried to think through a million
reasons why he wouldn’t tell me about the baby, about this Olivia person, and the only
real conclusion I can come up with is the fact that maybe he really does love her. Maybe
he was two-timing me, her, whichever, the entire time.

“Okay, everyone!” Mom calls us all to the impeccably set table. I think my mother was

Martha Stewart in another life. Correction, she thinks she’s Martha Stewart in this life. She
plucked pinecones from the yard and sprayed them gold before gluing them to napkin
rings. Her place cards are beautifully scrolled out. It’s nice to know the calligraphy kit I
bought her last Christmas is being put to good use.

She waves to get my attention before proceeding. “Why don’t we go around the table

and each say something we’re thankful for?”

Is she serious? I spent the last week weeping like some love-struck fool, mostly

because I am one, and she’s doing this to me? Holt let me know he finally filled her in on
all the gory details. She offered to have a chat with me, but I told her I wasn’t ready. The
word “chat” is code for a long drawn out conversation on my mother’s part, and, right
now, I want nothing to do with it.

The table breaks out in laughter. I see Izzy swatting Holt then pulling him in for a kiss.

Looks like I missed whatever it is everyone found so funny. That’s the thing about being
deaf, you need to be on heightened awareness at all times if you want to know what’s
going on. That’s one good thing about the procedure I’ve scheduled next month—I’ll get
the pleasure of both drowning in my misery and listening to other people at the same
time. It’ll be strange, like living in two worlds at once.

Soon enough it’s my turn. All eyes are on me just the way I don’t like it.
I am thankful for— A part of me wants to sign anything, Nitro, my mother, my family,

all of the things I’m genuinely thankful for, but, in truth, I want to say Blake. He opened
my heart wider than I could have ever anticipated, and, for that, I’m forever grateful. I’m
thankful for the love of each and every person in this room.

It’s true. If it weren’t for each and every person in this room I wouldn’t be who I am

today. Cole has showed me that people can change. He was a notorious playboy before
he met Roxy. And Roxy showed me that a girl can have balls and that it’s okay to use
them. Izzy—for teaching me to be brave and dance even when the world says sit down
and watch. Baya for showering me with the love and attention only a true sister can.
Bryson and Holt helped cheer me on through every single milestone in my life. They

saved me from a bully or two in my younger years, and, now, they’ve saved me from
someone else who wanted to hurt me even more—Blake. And, of course, my mother for
loving me through this adventure called life. I know hers will be the first face I see when
I’m still groggy from the anesthesia. I get nauseated just thinking about what that day
will be like for me.

Once dinner is through, Baya and Izzy offer to do the dishes. My mother wraps her

arm around me as I head to the family room with my brothers to watch the game. More
like ignore the game and drown in pie until it’s time to see Kaya.

You mind taking a walk? Her lips purse the way they do when she’s about to get

serious. I know it’s coming. She’s my mother, so I should probably give her the
opportunity to comfort me. I’m sure she’s been rehearsing what she wants to say ever
since Holt broke the news.

We head outside into the brisk November air. The sun set a little while ago leaving

sharp striations in the autumn sky of purple and bronze, a stunning combination that
makes you wish you can share it with someone special. I wrap my arm around Mom
because I am doing just that.

We pause at the end of the long wraparound porch, and she presses a kiss to the top

of my head.

Do you want to talk about it? She edges in.
Not really. I shrug into the dark maroon night. He’s gone. You can all say I told you

so. I deserve it.

Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. She pulls me into a long embrace. They say your first love

hurts the most. You never truly get over the first person who breaks your heart.

A flood of relief washes over me when she says those words.
A part of me never wants to get over Blake.
I don’t think I will.

Seven-thirty can’t get here fast enough. Roxy and Cole drive me back to campus. I think
they were happy to call it a night. All the way home she smiles and giggles at whatever
he says, and Cole flirts with her madly as if they’ve just met. I want to stick my hand
down my throat and puke all over the interior of his truck.

Instead, I thank them both by way of a hug. Roxy gives me two thumbs up.
“You’re a strong girl. You’re going to rock the rest of this semester.”
A part of me dies a little when she says the word rock. Anything associated with music

makes me dive deeper into mourning.

“If you want, over Christmas break”—Roxy speaks extra slow and does strange things

with her hands in an effort to help me understand—“you can work part time with me in
the kitchen. I’ve got sales going through the roof.” She points up, and I try not to smile at
the effort. I appreciate it. “I can really use an extra pair of hands.”

I nod as I type into my phone. I would love that. Thank you.
They take off for their apartment, and I make a beeline for Hallowed Grounds. Just

the thought of being so close to Kaya makes me feel giddy far more than I thought
possible these last few days.

There she is! Standing in front of the café is my beautiful, bouncy best friend, Kaya.

Her blonde hair is tipped with pink, and she’s wearing black-laced boots that travel all the
way up to her thighs. A short red coat completes the look that shouts look at me, world!

I’ve always admired Kaya’s moxie. I can hardly wait to introduce her to Marley. I know

they’ll get along great.

Kaya spots me and gives a wild wave. We come at one another like two freight trains

ready to collide, and we do. Kaya and I engage in one long, rocking hug that draws the
laughter out of me whether I want it to or not.

I’ve missed you like crazy. I make a face because I’ve just smiled and laughed for the

first time in a week. Thank you for coming out.

She frowns. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing a lot more of my ugly face. I’m

coming home for spring semester.

Will you be at Whitney? I’m so excited I can’t breathe.
I’m applying, so we’ll see.
A group of girls walk by, and I recognize two of them as the horrible twits from Digital

Studios, Courtney and her ridiculous leader, Johanna.

What’s going on? Kaya has always been perceptive when it comes to my emotions.
Not the nicest crowd, that’s all. We make our way toward the café, and a familiar

kind-hearted face comes around the corner.

Kaya, I want you to meet your future husband, Tristan. He looks freshly showered and

shaven. He’s really put in an effort for tonight, and it shows. My stomach pinches with a
wave of jealousy. Tristan is honest and one of the nicest people on the planet. I thought I
had found all those attributes and more in someone else, but I guess I was wrong.

Future husband? Kaya’s eyes enlarge as she quickly sizes him up. Annie is anything if

she’s not subtle. Nice to meet you. I like my eggs sunny side up and served with two
slices of bacon—make that four. I’m up for a destination wedding, but I’m open to
locations.

Nice to meet you, and does France sound okay? Tristan raises his brows.
They share a laugh, and there’s already a tenderness between them that has me

feeling like a third wheel. Tristan hasn’t once taken his eyes off her. Maybe there really is
something brewing here?

Kaya laughs and signs back, but I don’t catch it because my eyes are fixed on a heart-

stopping site straight ahead.

I’ll be right back. I tell them, but they’re so wrapped up in banter they hardly notice.
A familiar leather jacket stands with his back to me. Blake stares up at Prescott Hall,

in the general direction of my dorm room as if he’s trying to speak to me telepathically.
There he is. My body slaps with shock. Over the months we were together he had seen
every part of me, my heart and soul included. I was exposed bare to Blake, far more than
to anyone before and perhaps even myself. I trusted my heart to this person I had known
for such a brief amount of time, and I gave him my body! The mournful hilarity of it all is
too much to bear. But the truth is, Blake cannot be classified as something so simplistic
as “this person.” He’s a part of me now, a part of my story of the fabric of my being. For
so long he was the compass to every one of my heart beats—and as unfair as it may
seem, still is. He had laid the deepest bruise over my existence, one which might never
heal. In a strange way, I hope it won’t. I want to drink down the pain, the gutting grief, a
little here and there, when I need it, so hopefully this entire tragedy will never play out
again. Sometimes pain is the most respected teacher.

My heart drums into my throat. A part of me wants to do this—so I do.
The wind slices through me with its razor sharp teeth as I make my way over. I offer a

quick tap to his shoulder. I’m sure Blake is used to girls tapping him on the shoulder to
get his attention, especially the pregnant ones. Wait, that’s not right. But I’m too hopped
up on adrenaline to care.

“Annie?” He wraps his arms around me so fast it’s as if I’ve just come back from the

dead. Blake feels intensely solid, intensely mine. I take in the strong scent of his cologne,
the familiar scent of leather, the slight hint of musk from his hair, and feel the tears burn
under my lids. I pull back and carefully remove his arms from my body.

“I just want to say thank you.” My chest flashes with heat. I haven’t spoken since that

day I yelled at him—correction, screamed. I’ve only done that a handful of times before
and usually that was directed at my brothers.

His eyes narrow with sorrow as his hand cups my cheek. “My God, you have a

beautiful voice. But I’m sure there is nothing to thank me for.” His gaze falls to the
ground.

“You made me brave.” I can feel my voice warbling in and out of a whisper. “I’m doing

my oral report for Digital Studios next Friday.” I try to even out my tone the way the way
the countless hours of speech therapy taught me. “Without you, I wouldn’t be doing it.” I
don’t tell him about the surgery. “Good luck to you with everything.” I turn to go, and he

wraps his arms around me from behind. Blake buries his face in my hair a moment.

I twist into him, careful not to touch my lips to his. It would be too easy to fall back

into old habits. I’m not sure I could control myself if that were to happen. I might ravage
him. Take him right here in the middle of campus for all of Whitney Briggs to see.

Blake pulls back slowly, his fingers the last to drip from mine. “Can we go someplace

to talk? I’ll buy coffee.” He tilts his head, pleading. There’s a desperation I’ve never seen
in his eyes.

“I have to go.” I’m right back to whispering.
He gives a simple nod. “Good luck on your speech, Annie. I know you’ll kill it. And in

case I don’t get to say it”—his lips pinch—“I’m proud of you.” Blake steps in and bears
into me. “I love you, Annie. I will always love you.”

I turn around and run back toward Kaya and Tristan.
If I didn’t get out of there quick, I might have said those words right back.

B L A K E

y heart, soul, and ironically, the carriage house are all empty without Annie in my

life. But the carriage house, however, is chock full of the baby gear Roxy and Cole helped
haul into this tiny space a few days ago. After my relationship with Annie detonated in a
shower of sparks, no thanks to her brothers, and mostly me, Roxy came by with her
boyfriend ready to beat my balls in. Lucky for me and my balls, they listened, and I
somehow managed to vomit out the truth. I made them swear they wouldn’t tell Annie.
It’s something I need to do when the time is right, something I should have done when
we were still new, but the truth is a slippery bitch that never wants to be held when
Annie is around. Nevertheless, in a miraculous turn of events, Roxy’s heart exploded as
large as the carriage house, and she took some of the proceeds from her last baking
event and went to a thrift store and bought out the baby section. Cole said she might be
nesting. Whatever that is, it worked in my favor. As much as my pride didn’t want to
accept anything from them, I knew this would all be needed in a few short weeks so I
tucked my balls between my legs and said thank you.

A firm knock vibrates through the door. I speed over in the event it’s Annie and peer

out the window.

I swing it open and frown at my brother. “It’s just you.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” His lips expand with a bleak smile. “Let’s see what

I’m thankful for this year…oh, yes—your poor attitude.” He socks me in the arm before
pulling me into a partial hug. “Get over yourself, will you? You have a lot to be grateful
for.”

“Name it.”
“Okay, I will.” He wanders in, and I shut the door with my foot. “For one, I’ve decided

to give you your Christmas gift a little early this year.”

“If it shits in the yard, I don’t want it.”
“No, this one shits in the toilet.” He sits down and slaps the seat next to him. “Take a

load off.”

I head over and plop down. “First Thanksgiving that I haven’t had a bite of turkey, and

I still feel like all I want to do is sleep.”

“I figured so. How about you rake a comb through your hair, and I’ll take you out for a

bite.”

I press my head into the sofa and close my eyes. “Not until I get my gift.”
“All right. Her name is Beretta.”
“A gun? You got me a gun?” Does Wyatt know something I don’t?
“I got you a nanny. And before your mind drifts into the gutter, no, she’s not hot. Not

unless you’re into sixty-five year-olds who wear ugly sweaters year round. She’s good
people. Came highly recommended from friends of mine. She’ll do light cleaning and
cooking. She doesn’t work weekends, so we’re on our own.”

“Back it up. We?”
“Yeah, we. I’m pitching in. I think what you’re doing is noble. And, believe me, I get

why you’re doing it. If there’s anything I can do to help out, I’m going to do it. You have
my full support, little bro.” He softly digs his fist in my arm. “You know I love you.”

“I love you, too, man.” I lean in and give him a strong hug. Normally, I wouldn’t have

said I love you. Normally, I wouldn’t be hugging Wyatt like this, but Benji was here one
minute and gone the next, and saying I love you and hugging him are two things I wish
we would have done daily. Of course, he would have called me a pussy and kicked the
shit out of me for touching him, but it might have been worth it. Hell, I know it would
have. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He slaps me over the back. “Now grab your jacket. We’re going

turkey hunting downtown. Oh, and Blake?”

I pause from snatching my jacket off the table.
“The nanny comes under one condition.”
Here we go. “What’s that?”
“You go back to school. You have two years left, and I want you to knock ‘em out.”
School. A dull smile rides on my face. “You’re right, this is like Christmas.”
The smile glides off his face as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what

you want most.”

Wyatt can never give me Annie. I had taken everything we had and erased it with my

own omission.

No one is sorrier than me.

Another week drifts by, and I can’t seem to get Annie Edwards out of my head—don’t
want to. She’s saturated my thoughts, bled through the pattern of the clouds, I see her

smiling face in the evergreens, when I close my eyes, she’s right there waiting for me
behind my lids. Every sleepless night, all I can think about is how bad I fucked things up.
The irony of it all is that I did it with silence.

I pound my palm into the steering wheel. Frustration has become my closest

companion. The only way to lift this fever in my life is Annie’s forgiveness. I’ve become
rabid for exactly that.

It’s the last day of classes before Whitney Briggs breaks for Christmas. Annie

mentioned last week that she was going to give an oral presentation in her Digital
Studios class, and, as soon as she mentioned it, I knew I wanted to be there—out of sight
of course, but I’d die before I missed it. It’s a stalker-like thing to do. I know it. But for
some reason this doesn’t seem to deter me. I’ve made every excuse to head over to
campus since our breakup, even made a point of eating dinner in the food court each and
every night just hoping to bump into her.

I head into the parking lot and jump out of my truck. A light snowfall quietly sprinkles

to the ground like it did that last night we were together.

Doris Hall looms before me like a relic from some long forgotten era in my life. I have

Annie’s schedule memorized, the school mapped out to where she might be at any given
hour. As much as I respect her desire to keep our distance, I want to be there, unseen,
unheard, lingering like a ghost who wants nothing more than to support her in some
capacity. I’m the first guy she let into her life—her body—and I’m sure she’s in deep
regret on both counts. A flood of students make their way inside. Class is getting ready to
begin. As much as I don’t want to miss a second, the last thing I want to do is rattle her.
There’s no way she can know I’m here. I give it a few minutes before making my way into
the building, shaking the snow off my shoulders as I head down the hall.

A familiar looking dude looks my way before doing a double take.
It’s Frenchie.
“Hey, you”—he goes from Mr. Nice Guy to bouncer in zero point five—“what the hell

are you doing here?” He looks back to the classroom, making sure Annie is nowhere in
sight. He seems to care about her. For all I know I might be staring at my replacement.
For a moment I envision them far into the future with a house, white picket fence, two
kids, two dogs, the whole deal. It unsettles me, makes me want to wrap my hands
around his neck because I know it’s a possibility. But as much as I want to hate him, he
seems decent. He’s everything I’m not in a nutshell—clean cut, wire-rimmed glasses, built
sturdy as a bookshelf.

“I’m not here to do anything.” I glance past him. “Don’t tell her you saw me. I’ll be

gone in a minute.” That’s not entirely true. I did bring her a gift I’ve been meaning to give
her. It may have involved a small altercation with my father and a stray dog named Jeff,

but Annie was worth the scuffle. I’m not sure how I’m going to gift it to her. If nothing
else, I can leave it for her at the bar. But that’s not what I’m hoping. In fact, that’s the
worst-case scenario.

Johanna, the bitch on heels that tried to squash Annie’s feelings like a bug, comes

over and slings her arm around me.

“Hey, big boy.” She plants a wet one on my cheek. “I’ve been looking everywhere for

you!”

“Oh.” Tristan blinks in surprise. “I thought you were here for Annie.” He looks from

Johanna to me. “Never mind.” He goes to leave, and I pull him back a second.

I dart my eyes into each of his pleading for some kind of brotherly connection, any

ounce of mercy he might be willing to show me.

“How is she?”
“She’s good.” The muscles in his jaw flex, and he looks perturbed like I might be

stepping on his toes. “Her head’s all messed up. You hurt her pretty bad. Stay the fuck
away—‘kay?” He speeds into class without waiting for a response.

“I’d better go.” Johanna runs her finger along my jawline. “Don’t worry about that girl.

I’ve got ways to make you forget she ever existed.” She dips her forefinger into her
mouth before trying to jam it in mine, and I stop her.

“You want to do me a favor?”
“Anything for you, sugar.” She leans in and takes a bite out of my ear.
“Be nice to Annie. She’s a great girl, and you’d be lucky to call her a friend.”
Her face sours as she takes back her hand.
“Boy, you’ve got it bad.” She pivots on her heels and heads into class.
“Don’t I know it,” I whisper, leaning against the wall right outside the room. As much

as I’d love to see Annie give her speech, I don’t want her to see me. The last thing I want
to do is throw her for a loop.

A few girls go first—talking mostly of football games and homecoming. A couple of

guys go next, same stuff repackaged. Another girl heads up, whispering so low that for a
second I think it might be Annie. I carefully take a quick peek only to see it’s Johanna,
shitting her pants in the front of the class. Her face is slap-cheek red, her lips tremble,
her hands shake so hard her paper is fidgeting. How’s that for an interesting turn of
events? I guess it’s pretty easy to pick on someone with a disability but hard to come
across well-spoken and confident in a room full of your peers. I want to laugh but can’t.
The girl is clearly in pain. After several minutes, the teacher thanks the class for their
presentations and commends them to offer one another a final round of applause.

Did I miss Annie?
“Excuse me,” a female voice struggles to pierce through the dull clapping. “If you

wouldn’t mind, I’d like to give my presentation as well.”

The room stills. All I hear is the sound of my own breathing, loud as panting into a

microphone.

It’s her. Annie had the balls to stick up for herself after the professor all but dismissed

her.

“Please, Ms. Edwards, take your rightful place at the front of the class. We’re honored

to hear your oral presentation.”

At least he’s got the decency to show her some respect. Swear to God, if I hear one

person so much as giggle I’m storming in and rattling a few heads together.

“Hello. My name is Annie Edwards, and I was born profoundly deaf.”
A pang of grief, of relief, of pride and admiration ride through me all at once. Her

voice is perfect. Her octave a little louder than the other girls, but that’s because she’s
confident. You can see she’s making an effort to annunciate, to project and make sure
she’s heard all the way in the back of the room, and, lucky for me, the hall.

“My first day at Whitney Briggs was, in a lot of ways, my first day in the real world. For

most of my life I’ve attended the Quincy School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. Deaf
Culture was an immersion process there. I knew no other life except for the safety and
shelter of my own community, populated with others that share my condition. On my first
day at Whitney Briggs, I was nearly run over by a service truck on its way to the food
court to make its daily delivery. I didn’t hear the truck driver honking at me and was
unaware that such vehicles were allowed on campus during school hours. As fate would
have it, a very nice boy swept me off my feet, literally, and brought me to safety.”

The class fills with a choir of aww!
“That moment, something else happened to me that was life changing. Not only did

this boy teach me a valuable lesson about campus safety, we ended up dating, and he
taught me a valuable lesson in love as well.”

My heart breaks because the lesson didn’t end well. Did the lesson end? I want to

smile and insist it didn’t.

“This is a picture of the first sunset we shared. I had to take it with my phone. Sorry

about the selfie. As you can see, he’s pretty cute.” A soft round of laughter floats through
the room. A few people let out a catcall or two. “As our feelings for one another increased
so did the locations of our dates. His brother’s ranch, the coffee shop where we had a
brief yet violent encounter with my over protective big brothers.” More laughter. “This is
one of my favorite shots—serving dinner at the homeless shelter together.” A few
moments of silence. I can see the light dim and brighten as she flashes picture after
picture on the overhead monitor. “This is the Black Bear Saloon. I’ve sort of saved these
pictures for last because they mean so much to me.” The room darkens and brightens

again. “He’s the lead singer of the 12 Deadly Sins, and although I cannot hear the
beautiful music which so many of you enjoy, I was able to sit and feel the vibrations from
the speakers pulsating through me. It was as if he was pouring his voice inside of me,
and, for those brief moments, we were one being. I don’t really know what music sounds
like. I can only imagine the sound of his voice when he sings—but, when it strums
through me, I can honestly say that it feels like magic. He put his soul into every lyric. I
could feel it. Literally.” Another moment of silence drifts by, and the world starts to blur
through the tears pooling in my eyes. Annie has me gutted. Her presentation is the best
gift she could have given me. A precious accounting of our time together—of our love. But
I know what’s coming. It doesn’t end well—nothing ever does for me. “One last picture.”
The class breaks out in another choir of aww as if they were admiring kitten porn. I’m
curious, so I peer in. There we are, tangled in one another’s arms, my head touching
hers, my eyes closed. It looks as if it could have been taken just about anywhere, but I
know where that was taken—my bed, the first night I made her mine.

“I learned a lot of lessons this, my first semester at Whitney Briggs, and not all of

them were delivered in the classroom. If I could tell you one thing that I’ll take with me
the rest of my scholastic years—and for the rest of my life—it’s to make the most of the
people, the opportunities, of the love you have in your life because classes finish, people
change, one semester turns into the next—sometimes relationships end and you have to
move on.” A gut wrenching silence comes over the class as the gravity of what she’s
saying sinks in.

“What happened to the guy?” someone shouts from the back.
I shouldn’t hear this. I shouldn’t be here. My eyes gravitate back to where they don’t

belong, and I spot beautiful Annie at the front of the class. Her long hair falls in waves
over her shoulders. She’s dressed in a pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. Annie is
making every effort to put her best foot forward. In a word, she’s stunning.

Annie takes an audible breath. “He will always be very special to me. Someone very

wise once told me that your first love hurts the most. That you never truly get over that
person. I have nothing to compare the pain with—but it does hurt very much. And as for
getting over him—I don’t think that is possible. I’m happy to let him live right here.” She
tucks her hand against her heart. “I’ll be taking a break in that department for a while.
I’m not sure I can ever really love like that again. I guess I should have taken it slow, but
after looking at the big picture, I don’t think I would change a thing. He taught me a very
valuable lesson and that was to have no fear. Because of the strength he gave me, I’m
here speaking to you today—something I would never have even thought possible on my
own. Because of him, I’m going to face one of my lifelong fears and have surgery in just a
few weeks so that I might be like you, able to hear every beautiful sound that life has to

offer. And maybe, one day, I’ll be brave enough to hear his music, listen to his voice for
the first and last time.”

A slow applause starts in then builds to a crescendo. Annie has brought the entire

class to its feet. Tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away with my shoulder.
It’s taking far more restraint than I have not to head in there and wrap my arms around
her, to give her the happy ending she deserves in life, and, God knows, I want to. But this
isn’t about me. I’m not up for stealing the spotlight from where it really belongs—on
Annie.

Bodies stream out past me and bleed into the hall. I spot Tristan heading up to Annie

and signing something. She opens her mouth in shock and glances to the door.

I back out of her line of vision.
Shit.
Annie appears in the hallway and sweeps the vicinity until her eyes lock with mine.

Here it is, the moment I never anticipated, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. I’ll
always want Annie, in any way, shape, or form she’ll let me have her.

“You heard,” she says it low, quiet, and it’s all I can do to hold back a smile because I

love hearing the sound of her sweet voice.

“Yeah, I heard.”
A quivering breath escapes her. For a moment I’m afraid she might cry, and the real

crime would be that she wouldn’t let me comfort her. It kills me to think I won’t be able
to comfort her from here on out, to be there for her in general.

I sweep the hair off her shoulder as a flimsy excuse to touch her in any capacity. Even

in this airy manner, it’s a satisfying feeling.

“Nothing could stop me from being here today.” I press out a pained grin hoping she’ll

soften and hear me out. “I wanted to be here for you.”

She nods before hooking her semi-hostile gaze into mine.
“I’m not comfortable.” She touches her lips then extends her hand as if blowing me a

kiss. “Speaking to you…it feels vulnerable.”

“No,” I’m quick to assure her. I can feel Annie melting from her glacial hard state.

She’s cracking. In her effort not to speak to me, she’s speaking volumes. I pull out my
phone. Please, your voice is beautiful. It’s compelling. I need to hear you,
Annie. There. I’ve morphed into the guy I used to laugh at. The guy with his tail
between his legs because he’s so pussy-whipped he’d give up anything to lick the soles of
his girlfriend’s feet. I’m there. Sometimes you need to see life through the prism of
heartbreak to appreciate the beauty, the gift that a good relationship really is. If
anything, I’ll be ten thousand times more attentive to her needs, far more open and
quicker with the truth. Even if I wasn’t technically trying to hide anything, a technicality is

still a lie.

She looks up at me from under her lashes as the hall drains of its enthusiastic

students eager to get to Christmas break. Annie has three glorious weeks off, and I’d love
to spend them with her if she’d let me.

“Annie.” I type out the words because I don’t want her to miss a single one. You

were perfect in there. You were confident and brave, and everything I knew
you could be. My hand rises to touch her cheek then restrains itself because it’s not my
place to do so anymore. Instead my fingers glide over my phone as if my life depended
on it. The day we landed in that bush back in August, I took one look into your
beautiful eyes and knew I wanted to know everything about you. That first
kiss we shared—what I felt at that moment was something that I never
experienced before. I saw our entire future map out before me like a
constellation. The first night we were together was a miracle, Annie. It was
more than sex to me. I felt our souls bond. That night you and I became one
person, right here where it counts. I wait for her to read to the end then touch my
fist to my chest. I type into the phone once again. The love you gave is something I
will treasure for the rest of my life. There will be no other great love for me.
Forever, there will be just you. I reach down and pick up her hand. “Annie”—I plead
—“I really enjoyed listening to you—do you think you can listen to what I have to say?
Please?” I want to fall on my knees and beg like a dog. I want Annie to know the intimate
details of what is really transpiring between Olivia and me. Up until now only Wyatt,
Roxy, and Cole know the truth.

Annie blows a breath through her cheeks. She glances over her shoulder as if she’s

expecting someone, and my stomach drops. What if Annie and Frenchie have a thing
going? What if I’ve been replaced, and I don’t even know it?

“Excuse me.” A voice calls, and I turn to find Johanna standing next to me. Shit. How

many ways can I spell out I’m not buying what you’re selling? What part of no thank you
does this chick not get?

“Look, I’m not interested.” I turn my attention to where it belongs, back to the woman

I’d die for.

“Actually”—Johanna steps toward Annie—“there’s something I wanted to say to your

girlfriend.” Her voice is soft, she’s taken a humble stance with her shoulders lowered, her
chin dipped to her chest. “I just wanted you to know that I totally respect what you did
up there.” She’s talking a little louder than she would naturally, but she seems genuine,
so I don’t give her the boot just yet. “I’m sorry about how I’ve behaved.” She gives a
weary look in my direction before refocusing. “And I’m sorry things didn’t work out
between the two of you.” She shakes her head, readjusting her backpack. “Anyway you

never know. Things might work out yet.” She takes off out the door, and it’s just Annie
and me in these hallowed halls.

Annie touches her hand to my chest a brief moment. “I will listen.” She gives a low

guttural laugh. “It’s okay, you can laugh.”

I shake my head, and a grin starts to take over my face. It’s as if we’re back to being

Annie and Blake, and not a damn thing has happened. It looks like I’ll be able to give her
the gift myself, after all. I can almost feel Benji up there somewhere smiling at me.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out just enough to see it’s a text from Olivia.
Just had him. Sorry no time to call. Jepson Memorial room 228.
My heart seizes. I give a hard blink into the phone. Can’t catch my breath. My body

grows heavy as concrete.

Annie places her hand on my shoulder. “Are you, okay?” she mouths. Her eyes bear

into mine, and I fight the urge to collapse my arms around her.

I flash the phone at her and take a deep breath. “I have to go.” My heart breaks and

fills with elation all at once. My fingers type something out quick as if they had a mind of
their own. I’m going to meet my son. And I don’t want to do it without you.
Would you please come with me? As a friend?

Her mouth opens as she struggles for words. “Are you still with this girl? She said you

were.” Her voice is low and raspy and just as gorgeous as she is.

A ball of fire rips through me at the lie Olivia managed to squeeze between Annie and

me.

“No. There’s so much I have to tell you. The baby—”
“This conversation can wait.” Annie glances down at my phone. “I’ll go with you—as a

friend,” she whispers.

Jepson Memorial emerges over the landscape like an overgrown cinder block against

the dove gray sky. It looks ominous and hopeful all at once. A thousand thoughts race
through my mind—all of them rotating right back to the baby waiting for me inside.

Annie was nice enough to text Wyatt for me as I sped like hell to get us here. We park

and race up to the second floor. I pause a moment outside the maternity ward to catch
my breath. My head pulsates. My heart feels as if it’s malfunctioning on a fatal level.

I touch my hand to my head. “If I’m about to drop dead, I came to the right place.”
“You can do this,” she whispers. “I’m here for you.” She says it loud, and I smile with

relief. I hope she never stops saying those words.

“Thank you.” I pull her into a tight embrace, taking in her scent as if I needed a hit

just to make it through what comes next.

Annie and I walk onto the unit. Second door to the right, room 228.
“Knock, knock,” I say softly. The door is wide open, but there’s a curtain blocking our

view of the bed. The television is so loud I could hear it down the hall.

“Get in here, you piece of shit,” Olivia snarls. At least her sense of humor is still intact.

We walk to the other side of the curtain, and Olivia twitches the idea of a smile at the
two of us.

“He’s in there.” She nods to her left at the glass basinet where a tiny bundle of flannel

blankets quietly fidgets. “Go on. Get your daddy on.” She flips the channel on the TV and
turns down the volume. “You, too.” She flicks the remote toward Annie. “If you’re going
to be playing the part of ‘baby mama’, you’d better get to know the critter.”

“Ignore her.” I walk Annie toward the tiny bundle. “My God,” I whisper. My body

shakes out of control as the tears come. All of the pain, all of the heartache of losing
Benji is coming to a head in the most beautiful way.

Annie taps me, points to the baby and makes a rocking motion with her arms. “Pick

him up.”

“Yes.” I give a nervous laugh at the thought. I reach in carefully and extract him a

little faster than anticipated because holy, holy—he is lighter than air. “He doesn’t weigh
anything.” The patch of dark hair on the top of his head wafts in the breeze I’ve created
with my words.

“Five pounds, nine ounces. That’s plenty big.” Olivia reaches for a carton of milk and

gives it an aggressive shake.

“Hello,” I whisper as I draw him near. His navy eyes are glassy as he blinks at me.

This tiny being is seeing me for the very first time. I try to smile, but I want to cry. His
pink button nose is more than I can handle. He grimaces and smiles on a loop. But it’s
the shape of his lips, of his eyebrows, the familiar contours of his face. “Annie”—I turn
towards her with this precious angel in my arms—“what I’ve been trying to tell you for so
long is that this precious little boy”—I swallow hard just trying to push the words through
the brick lodged in my throat, taking the words nice and slow—“he truly belongs to my
brother. This is Benji’s baby. Olivia was Ben’s girlfriend in the end. Not mine.”

“Back up the tape.” Olivia spins her finger in the air.
“We dated for a while in the dark ages. Ben sort of snagged her away, and I was okay

with that. Our run was long over.”

Annie’s eyebrows arch deep into her forehead. A pleasant look of surprise takes over

for a moment before she melts again into the baby.

A swell of relief fills me because I’m pretty sure Annie just understood what I’ve been

dying to tell her.

“This is his child.” Her voice cracks with grief.
“And now he’s mine.” I touch my lips to his suede soft skin. “This is the only piece of

my brother I have left.” I blink back the tears as I look at my son, the exact reflection of
my brother, of me. “I promise, I’m going to love you forever, buddy. I’m here for you. I
always will be.”

“He’s beautiful.” Annie whispers as she touches her finger to his tiny hand, and he

claps onto her like he’s never letting go. He already knows a good thing when he sees it.
“What’s his name?”

I cradle him between the two of us.
“His name is Benjamin. Just like his daddy.”

L A S T

S O N G

A N N IE

now blows through Hollow Brook like a procession of swirling stars tumbling over the

velvet backdrop of night.

Blake suggested a detour before he drops me back off at the dorm. Baby Ben is still

tucked safely away at the hospital with the nurses and Olivia—although I wouldn’t
particularly call him safe with her from what I can tell. She’s a piece of work that I
wouldn’t trust with my child, and, in a way, I feel that protective of this tiny being I just
met. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact Blake is a father, uncle—uncle-father. It’s
as if I’ve been thrust into another universe, but this isn’t about me. The focus is on this
beautiful baby that his brother Benji is unable to care for, and I’m proud of Blake for
stepping up. Today my heart grew for him, the size of a mountain.

We drive up the steep embankment on the way to that special place where we shared

our first sunset. We pass the Witch’s Cauldron with its steam rising into the sky like
ghosts, the rushing river as it threads into icy ropes. We park up at the top, and Blake
helps me out as we make our way to the overlook.

We belly up to the stone wall that sits along the edge of the cliff as we peer down at

the miniature world, dusted in white, with its city lights winking into the night.

It’s gorgeous. The blue light of my phone gives an ethereal effect on this already

fairytale-like evening.

Blake’s chest rises and falls with a breath as he looks at the phone. He types quickly

into his and sends me a text. You don’t need this, Annie. You speak beautifully. His
eyes carry a heartbreak that’s all for me.

I like this. This is comfortable. I take a deep breath. Besides, I think we need

to say a few things, and this way I can focus on what I’m trying to say and not
how I might sound.

He gives a brief nod. The wind picks up, fast and violent, slicing through my sweater

like a thousand frozen knives.

Can I hold you? Blake looks as if the world just unhinged and landed on his back.

The weight of this day alone has aged him.

“Yes,” I whisper.
Blake warms me in his arms before typing something out. I’m so sorry I hurt you,

Annie. After Ben died I knew Olivia would need me. I volunteered to help out
with the baby, and that’s when she let me know she didn’t want to keep it.
She’s not exactly—maternal.

I have a feeling that’s putting it mildly.
“Very true.” He types into his phone again. A few months ago she had me sign

paperwork making me the legal father of Benjamin. He swallows hard at the
mention of his brother’s name. I don’t know what’s going to happen with Olivia. I
know her—she’ll want to be in this child’s life, just not with a starring role,
more of a side character that you get a card from at Christmas. Who knows,
maybe something more, only the future will tell. I know I bit off a lot, but I
didn’t want to have any regrets later on. This is big. It’s a life. Benji is gone,
and he can’t raise his son. I know he’d never ask me to do this, but I want to. I
want to shower his child—my child—with the love Ben and I sometimes didn’t
bother to express. His chest expands as he looks out at the low hanging moon—a half
smile that hangs faceless in the night. It’s not the right time in my life for this to
have happened, but it may never have been right.

Blake stills into me a moment, and our breath conjoins in a pale plume of light. How

are you going to manage? I ask.

Wyatt offered to help. He flashes the phone my way before continuing. He hired a

nanny, a sweet old woman I’ve yet to meet, but he swore he checked her out. I
trust him.

I trust him, too.
A comfortable silence crops up as the wind threatens to blow us right over the edge.
“Do you trust me, Annie?” Blake says the words slowly, staggered as if it fatigued and

grieved him all at once to consider the alternative.

“Yes,” I whisper.
He nods at his phone. If I could do it all again I’d figure out a way to tell you

sooner. I was going to tell you that day your brothers did. Ironic. I guess I got
what I deserved.

No, Blake. I wrap my arms around him tight for a moment. You deserve a medal

for what you’re about to do. I’m not that big of a deal.

“You are a very big deal.” He clicks into the phone. You are important to me. I

would do anything to get back what we had. The price of my silence was far
too high. He takes in a large gulp of air preparing for what comes next. Do you still
want this with me?

“Yes.” I say it loud without hesitation. “I want everything with you, Blake.”
He closes his eyes as a dull laugh thumps through him.
He holds a finger up a moment and heads to the truck. Blake strides back with a small

black bag.

“For you.” He hands it over as if it were just as precious as that baby back at the

hospital.

Carefully, I open it revealing a Canon camera that blows doors off the one I happen to

own. I’m familiar with this model. It does everything but fly.

I shake my head. “I can’t accept this.” If he returns this, it could buy him three years’

worth of diapers.

He flashes his phone my way. It belonged to Benji. Both he and I would love

for you to have it.

Tears come, and I don’t fight them. This is his brother’s camera—his most prized

possession up until today.

I nod. “Okay. But it really belongs to your little boy.”
Blake types into his phone. Then you’ll have to teach him to use it when he’s

older.

“Done.”
“You’ll still be here.” He doesn’t ask it as a question. Or maybe he did, but I’d like to

believe it was a fact.

I bite down on a devilish grin. “You couldn’t stop me.”
“Annie.” His lips fall to mine before he dives into my mouth with relief, with fury, with

passion that rivals a thousand romance novels. This, right here, is far more beautiful than
the magical view of the snowcapped city.

This is the real magic.
And Blake and I have captured it.

The Hoover Ear Clinic in Los Angeles is unassuming in nature. It sits across from a
lustrous well recognized hospital in a mostly residential neighborhood. We park
underground and head up to a limestone mecca that feels more like an upscale shopping
mall than it does an internationally renowned clinic.

The Excel Implant—the device dubbed as a wondrous miracle by my mother, has been

placed in both ears since two days after Christmas. A double implant. All of my mother’s
auditory dreams have come true. An entire month has drifted by, and now we’re back in
Los Angeles to turn on the devices and see if my auditory dreams are about to come true

as well. I’ll know within the hour if the implants work for me or not. I’ll either hear the
world and all its rainbow of sounds or continue on in the cushioned tunnel of silence that
I’ve lived in for so long. I’m not as excited as my mother. I guess you could call me
pessimistic, pragmatically suspicious—or simply a little frightened of the unknown. The
surgeon suggested we wait a month to give the scar tissue a chance to heal, and today is
the big day. It’s time to flip a switch and hope for the best.

Mom leads the way down the long hall to the audiologist’s office. Both Bryson and

Holt insisted on coming, and I’m more than thankful. They’ve weathered this hearing
storm with me from the beginning. It’s only fair they should be here for the tail end, if it is
just that. Or as an optimist might point out, a very loud beginning.

Blake tightens his grip around my hand as I bite down on the wild grin waiting to take

over. Yes, Blake came, too. We’ve been inseparable since the day baby Ben was brought
into this world. He’s the sweetest little miracle God ever did make.

Hopefully, in just a little bit, I’ll be able to hear Blake’s voice for the very first time.

Hope. That’s the backbone of this entire operation which spanned the rejection of both of
my parents’ health insurance policies, three time zones, and over twelve thousand miles
when you log all the back and forth travel. The pessimist in me keeps rearing her
practical little head, reminding me that there is a chance the implants won’t work. The
surgery was risky to begin with. Being profoundly deaf didn’t exactly make me the most
lucrative candidate for the procedure. It also didn’t help that insurance balked when we
begged them to cover it. This was all cash. Cash. One Excel Implant for both ears. The
price tag was daunting, but my parents generously insisted I get them both at once. They
emptied their 401Ks of sixty five grand as easy as shaking out a few coins from a
porcelain piggy bank. They did it with joy, with hope—there’s that tricky word again. If
this doesn’t work, it will break my heart for far more reasons than just my inability to
hear.

Blake was kind enough to fly out for the surgery last month as well. I don’t think I

could have done it without him holding my hand right up until they wheeled me away. It
turns out the nanny Wyatt hired is phenomenal. Not only that, but, it turns out Roxy,
Baya, and Izzy all have a sweet spot for babies. But that little boy is all mine. I love Benji
as if he were my own. And when Blake holds him, feeds him, changes his diaper like it’s
second nature, my heart expands to the size of the universe. Just when I didn’t think it
was possible, I fall in love with Blake Daniels even deeper than before.

We take a seat near the back in the busy office and wait for what feels like a

thousand years before the receptionist calls me.

My phone vibrates. It’s a text from Kaya. Can you hear me now?
I text back. You’re not funny. And, no, we haven’t turned them on yet. Soon!

Finally, Mom signs that it’s time to go in.
“This is it,” I give it in an excited whisper, my hands just as animated as my heart.
This is going to be so great! I hop to my feet and twirl into Blake.
“It’s happening.” My teeth graze over my lips as a sad realization hits me. If it doesn’t

happen, there will be quite the ledge to fall from. I’d better lower my expectations in the
event nothing happens at all.

Every one of those hearing aids, those strange barbaric devices I’ve tried in the past

come flooding through my mind. We walk down a maze of hallways to the heart of the
facility as I recall the dull roars, the low-toned warbles that I opted out of before. What if
that’s all I get? Worse, what if the world sounded that way all along, and I had just
painted some rosier picture?

“Take a seat in the chair, Dr. Vance will be right with you.” The nurse’s aid both signs

and speaks. I watch as her lips move and wonder if it’s the last time I’ll have to focus so
intently on someone else’s mouth—with the exception of Blake’s of course. His mouth I
can stare at all day—preferably in bed with my fingers outlining his lips.

We try to file into the office as one giant mob, and she’s quick to hold up a hand.
“I’m sorry but only the patient is allowed inside during the adjustment. The rest of you

can wait out here if you like.”

Great. I swallow uneasily as I follow her to my seat. After a small eternity and signing

I love you to everyone at the door for the hundredth time, Dr. Vance comes in with that
same easy smile he had right before the anesthesiologist knocked me out.

“You okay?” He dips his chin as if it were more rhetorical than anything else. “Let’s get

this party started, shall we?” The deep baritone of his voice trembles through me. I can
always feel when Dr. Vance is speaking. And now I’m hoping to hear him.

He busies himself with the computer in front of him, and my anxiety hits an all-time

high. My palms sweat. My body temperature spikes so fast, I slip my hand over my
forehead to cool me.

He reaches into a tiny blue box and pulls out a small, silver square.
“This is your remote, Annie. I’m going to position this to your ear to turn on your

implants. And when I do, I want you to tell me when you hear three tiny beeps.”

My eyes flit to the door. My mother has managed to scoot herself inside, and I spot

Blake standing between my brothers. His wide eyes look inviting as windows that I long
to crawl into. If this doesn’t work—if I don’t hear the beeps, if I don’t hear anything—

Dr. Vance places the remote to my left temple, and I take a breath.
A short squeak emits, then another, and another—piercing and painful. My eyes

squeeze tight in response. I gag on my next breath and hear a myriad of sound coming
from my own throat.

I take in a quick breath and marvel at the roar coming from my own mouth. An entire

series of crackling, mind-numbing, sharp bites of agony continue to claw behind my
temples. Another choking sound comes from my throat, this time I choose to laugh.
Laughter! My own laughter. Tears come unexpected as the joy transcends the pain.

“Annie?” A smooth, deep voice comes from my left. I look to the door as Blake takes a

step inside. My skull vibrates and pops as sound and sight finally merge in one beautiful
orchestra. It’s as if I step outside of the pain threshold, refuse my body one last grievance
and simply soak in the world around me—soak in Blake and his beautiful voice.

“Blake?” My voice! I cry hard as I launch into his arms.
“Annie.” His chest bucks beneath mine, and we’re both in tears.
My brothers and my mom swarm around me in a tight huddle. It’s a choir of unfamiliar

sounds, so perfect and right, so beautiful and strong and lovely, just the way I imagined
they would be.

I kiss and hug them all in turn. I cup my mother’s cheeks.
“Thank you for supporting me through this for all these years. I love you. I really am

so thankful.”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” She sounds every bit as sweet as I knew she would.
I float into Blake’s arms. The world is new again.
Dr. Vance turns on my second implant, and it’s twice as exciting as the first time.
Everything is brand new to me. I can see, smell, taste, feel, and now I can finally hear

the world.

After dinner, after soaking in every foreign sound and loving the living hell out of it, I
sneak over to Blake’s room down the hall for a few minutes. Our flight leaves at nine in
the morning, so we’ll be headed to the airport at the crack of dawn but I wanted to see
Blake at least once in private before we left.

“Hey, beautiful.” He answers the door with that happy to see me, deliriously drugged

smile still tucked on his face. His eyes beam as if a light went off somewhere behind
them as soon as he opened the door. I swear, Blake Daniels glows in my presence, and,
as narcissistic as that sounds, I’d bet everything I own, including my new implants, that
it’s true. Blake gently pulls me toward him before slow dancing me to the bed. Lying over
the mattress is a brown, glossy guitar with a pearl face around the opening in the center.

“You didn’t bring your guitar, did you?” I cock my head trying to recall him tucking it

into the car on the way to the airport yesterday.

“Nope. I handed the concierge a roll full of bills and told him what I wanted. He ran

out and picked it up for me this afternoon while we were gone. I have a little cash
stashed away, and I thought what better time to buy a souvenir.”

“Souvenir, huh?” My suspicions are aroused.
“For Ben.” His smile expands just enough to annunciate that devilish look in his eye.

“And you.” Blake lets out a soft laugh, and I drink it down. Those familiar vibrations
trickle through me beautiful and familiar. My entire body warms at the feeling. It’s as if
the old me were flagging the new me down, saying don’t worry. I’m still here. Things are
better but, at the core, you’re still the same.

“I bought it because I couldn’t wait to do this.” He takes off his shirt achingly slow,

and that never-ending want blooms in my chest. Blake’s fingers run down the front of my
blouse, unbuttoning it at record pace. “Sound travels best without all this cotton between
us.” An animalistic growl comes from his chest, and I lay my hand over it, old school, to
feel him pulsate through me.

“Play for me.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Blake kisses me just below my ear, and I hear it. Hear it!

I hear that precious kiss. I can’t stop marveling at the beauty life held back like a well-
kept secret, but now I’m in on it. And I’ll be eating it up the rest of my days, one delicious
sound at a time. The audiologist ran his test once things calmed down this afternoon and
said I have moderate to good hearing. It’s not perfect, but it is to me. A part of me still
prefers to read lips if I can. Everything sounds so foreign, so ironically difficult to process.

Blake and I snuggle up on the bed as he pulls the heavily veneered guitar over his lap.
Blake strums his fingers over the strings, and the room explodes with a heavenly light.

“Oh, Annie—” His voice is melodic and low as tears spontaneously blur my vision. I’ve
melted. I’ve drowned in that sweet, curling melody. “Look who’s in love with you…”

I close my eyes and lay my head to his chest, hearing, feeling, absorbing the notes as

they plume from Blake’s mouth. Perfection. Blake Daniels is just that—perfect.

“This old boy thought he lost his mind when you got up and left, but you’re back in my

arms where you belong. Oh, Annie—look what you do to me. My heart is racing—can’t
catch my breath. Forever isn’t long enough, but it’s all that’s left. Sweet Annie.”

I pull his face to mine as he carefully places his guitar to the floor. “That was by far

more amazing than I ever could have imagined. You sound like a god.” I shake my head,
overwhelmed hearing his voice configure into a thing of beauty like that for me. “When
we went out that first night at the Black Bear, I thought how could this gorgeous creature
possibly be interested in me? And then later I wondered why on earth a musician would
care to have a deaf girlfriend. But you kept coming for me. You kept showering me with
attention—with those heady kisses—and it all became real. You wanted me. I couldn’t
understand it, but I could feel it.”

“I still want you, Annie.” He pulls me into his lap. “I know I have my hands full with

Ben, but I want you by my side for the rest of my life. In fact, if you weren’t in it, my
heart would grieve for you just as much as it does for Benji.” His chest pumps with a
quiet laugh. “Okay, more.” He raises his hand a moment. “Sorry, Ben.”

“Well, then.” I twist until I’m lying in his lap, pulling him down by the neck. “Good luck

trying to get rid of me. In fact, I was thinking that on weekends I could spend some extra
time at the carriage house with you and the baby.”

He cocks his head to the side, hopeful. “As in spend the night?”
“As in spend the night.”
“Yes.” He closes his eyes in victory. “You’re welcome anytime.” Blake pulls me up and

works off my jeans. “There’s a special thank you I’d like to give, but I think I can say it
best if we’re both naked.”

“Really? I guess this is my chance to hear it for the first time,” I tease. “Do you know

what I do best when we’re both naked?”

Blake unhooks my bra, and it sails across the room. We share a laugh as he pins me

with his limbs.

“I think I know firsthand what you do best when we’re both naked.” His cheeks twitch.

Blake redefines gorgeous on an alien level.

“Oh, yeah?” I pull my legs over his back as he reaches for a condom. “What’s your

guess?”

“Me.”
He dots my lips with a juicy, loud kiss, and the pit of my stomach quivers with lust.

This man has me, so thoroughly, so completely I don’t care to know the world without
him.

“I was going to say you, too. But that’s because you make me feel like a woman,

Blake. You’ve never made me feel less in any way, and I want to thank you for that.”

“The only way to thank me is by landing those perfect lips over mine every single day

until I’m no longer on this planet. It’s only fair.” Blake’s expression grows serious as he
lies over me with the weight of his chest. He leans in and whispers right into my ear, “I’m
going to marry you someday, Annie Edwards. I’m going to make you mine.”

My heart gives a wild thump at the quasi-proposal.
“I’m already yours.” I outline his lips with my finger. “And I can’t wait to be a family

with you and Ben.”

“You already are. We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Blake rolls on his condom, and I hear it. It’s the strangest gurgle, and it makes that

incessant giggle go off in my chest again. It’s amazing that every little detail, every little
thing gives birth to a sound. I marvel as he crumples the wrapper, and it sails off the bed

right into the trashcan.

“He shoots, he scores.” A devilish smile rides on his lips as he guides himself into my

body.

“He scores indeed.” I take a bite out of his lip.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” His chest vibrates over mine, and it feels like home.

Blake pushes in deep and moves inside of me slow and easy as if it were our first time,
and, in a way, it is. Blake and I make love until well past midnight. Our moans, his wild
thunderous groans, sound just as incredible as it’s always felt. He dives down and loves
me with his mouth until I’m right there with him. The sound of my panting catches me off
guard as I climax into him. A shrill cry escapes my throat as my body shakes over the
bed. I cage him between my legs a moment before pulling him up by the hair.

“Is that what I’ve sounded like?” I’m curious because I never thought I made a

squeak.

“Nope, you were a bit toned down.” He peppers my face with hot, wet kisses. “I like

this new version. I love hearing you come for me. Never stop making that beautiful
sound.” He pushes a careful kiss against my ear. “I love you so much. I thank God for you
every day, Annie.” I pull back, and my mouth falls open.

It’s that last part that feels familiar. I’ve felt those same vibrations against my ear

each time we finish, and now the last piece to the puzzle has fallen into place. Mystery
solved.

“Did I say something wrong?”
“Nope, it’s just that I’ve always wondered what you said when you whispered in my

ear, and now I know. I never wanted you to stop, so I never asked. I loved that you felt
the need to do that. It made me feel like a part of your world. And now, tonight, I am.” I
pull him back over me and blink back tears. “I thank God for you every day, too.”

Blake and I lie in bed and whisper sweet nothings to each other for hours.
And I hear every beautiful word.

Once we get back to Hollow Brook, Blake takes me on one adventure after another—a
listening tour of the world he calls it. We drive to the four corners of the earth while Blake
holds the final location close to the vest.

“Why is it such a secret? Just give me one hint.”
“Okay.” He winces in his reluctance. “It’s something I promised you that first night we

went for coffee, and I still haven’t made good on it.”

My mind tries to reel back our conversations from that night, but I keep coming up

empty. However, I trust Blake, and I love surprises so this is win, win for me. I lean into
my seat and giggle to myself, closing my eyes, letting the warm sun penetrate my lids.
This, right here, is heaven—and I can’t believe this is my life. I’ve finally heard all those
things I used to have my brothers describe—the slam of the door, the babble of the
brook. I’ve yet to hear the angry thunder, but, while holding Blake’s hand, I heard the
happy wind, the surprised doorbell—and, of all things to hear this morning, I heard the
tired trash truck that used to wake my brothers up early. I no longer sleep like a log. As
soon as baby Ben so much as begins to mewl, my eyelids spring open to that sweet
melody.

We drive over a ridge, and then I see it.
“The beach!” I shout, ecstatic.
Blake parks in the lot, and we race down the sand, kicking off our shoes, laughing like

schoolchildren.

The waves roar. They war against the sky, against each other, as they crash and

tumble with an explosive applaud. Tears come to my eyes. I knew something so grand
was capable of sounding like God himself.

Blake holds me as we take in the blue, violent sea.
My hips twist into his as I pull him close. “I’m so lucky you’re my someone special. I

can’t believe you remembered to bring me here.”

“Are you kidding? I have memorized every single moment I’ve spent with you. If

Benji’s death taught me anything, it’s to cherish the ones you love—and I do love you,
Annie. I’m the lucky one around here.”

Everything happens for a reason, and if that truck hadn’t driven onto campus, if I

would have heard it myself, if I would have let Baya and Bryson walk me to class—well,
everything would have turned out different. But here we are, blissfully tangled in one
another’s arms as if there were no other possible outcome. I’m glad things turned out the
way they did. Blake and I were meant for one another. Fate took what could have been a
tragedy that day and turned it into the best moment of my life.

It’s funny how life works.
It’s beautiful how it sounds.

B L A K E

used to sleep like a dead dog buried under six feet of winter snow. Not a sound

could rouse my sorry ass out of bed. And now the slightest twitch sends me flying to my
feet. But I wouldn’t want it any other way. A soft rasping sound comes from the front as
my lids struggle to unglue themselves this morning. The sun is out—first time in a week.
It’s rained on and off as a big cloud cover squatted over all of North Carolina, but today
that spotlight shines down from the sky and my eyes can’t quite adjust.

The knock at the door becomes more animated, and I head over before they wake up

Ben. I peer into his bassinet a moment. He’s sound asleep with his perfect tiny lips
smacking away just the way his dad used to do. His hair is coming in thick and black, he’s
unmistakably a Daniels. I know it for a fact because the paternity test came in. That was
me removing any shadow of a doubt. Now that the air is clear, I can breathe easy and
focus on raising my son. Olivia hasn’t come around once, and there’s a sickening ache in
the pit of my stomach wondering if this is her big debut in the role of mommy.

I look through the peep hole. Nope, better. It’s Annie—the only woman I ever want

Ben to view as his mother.

“Here’s the morning sun,” I say swinging the door wide open. Baya and Roxy stand

behind her. “An estrogen ambush before eight a.m.? Get in here, girls.”

Annie plants a kiss on my lips and gives my ass a discrete tweak before filing in. I do a

double take as she strides on by. Hot damn. This girl is smoking with her black leather
jacket—tight as all hell jeans.

“What’s going on ladies?” Annie doesn’t need to dress to impress. I’m already hers in

every single way. But leather before breakfast has my suspicions aroused.

“Where’s my boy?” Roxy gravels it out, as she heads straight to the bedroom. It’s an

odd friendship we’ve developed—Cole, too, although I can relate to him a little better.

Annie wraps her arms around my neck. “I have a surprise for you.” Her bright red lips

press together as she holds back a smile. Annie doesn’t normally wear lipstick, so already
I’m intrigued.

“Can we pause for a minute so I can tell you how drop dead gorgeous you look today?

What’s the surprise? You in a beauty pageant this afternoon?”

“Ha, ha.” Annie’s voice has smoothed out, even and seamless. You would never know

that she’s only been using it on a regular basis for the last few weeks. “I am doing
something beautiful this afternoon—with you.”

“That’s right!” Baya sings. Baya is always a little overloaded with energy. Roxy

balances her out nicely. “Now go on and get.” She motions for us to shuffle out the door.
“I’ve got a baby to snuggle with.”

Roxy comes out of the bedroom with a freshly changed, and bright-eyed Benji. “Look

who’s awake!” Baya and Annie flock to him like he’s a lead singer on a full house night.
Annie is determined to teach him how to sign, and I’m all for it. It’s about time I became
proficient in it as well. Annie says it’s ingrained in who she is. She still does it with her
mother and brothers.

“I remember when all the girls in the room used to flock to me.”
Annie rolls her eyes. “I’d better get this guy out of here before his ego blows off the

ceiling. Bye sweetie.” She pecks a kiss to Ben’s cheek, and my heart melts. Annie guts me
each time she loves all over Ben. I can get used to this. For the first time since losing my
brother, I’m starting to feel whole again—hell, I do.

“By the way”—Roxy hands him off to Baya as she makes her way to the kitchen and

plucks a bottle out of the fridge—“I’ll be watching him tonight while you play at the Black
Bear.”

“Sounds good, but I don’t play at the Black Bear anymore.” Haven’t in months.
Annie slings her arm around my waist. “Yes, you do.”
“Says who?” I’m hoping she’ll say her brothers because I wouldn’t want them hitting

me over the head with my guitar when I show up.

“Says me.” Her brows hike. “And Bryson and Holt may have agreed to it. They also

may have groveled a bit. It turns out nothing sold more beer and bourbon than your
singing.” She wrinkles her nose. “What do you say? You think the band has it in them to
do another run?”

“I know they do.” I trap her bottom lip between mine and pull back. “Thank you.

That’s a great surprise.”

“You’re welcome, but that wasn’t the surprise. Now get ready before I change my

mind.”

I shower and dress before Annie and I jump in my truck and hit the road.

“You know I was just thinking, I could teach you to drive sometime.”

“Really?” Her face lights up. “I would love that. I think I’m ready.” She bounces in her

seat. I love to see her excited, happy, squealing with pleasure, usually when she’s naked
and wrapped around my body like a vine.

Annie gives me vague instructions, eventually navigating us to the doorstep of Joe’s

Automotive.

“Am I pulling a Saturday shift?” God knows if the old man sees me, it’s not outside the

realm of possibilities.

“Let’s find out.” Annie lures me out of the truck with a curl of her finger. She’s wearing

boots that cover her knees, and, holy hell, she just gets hotter by the minute.

Annie takes me by the hand and walks me to the back of the garage until we’re both

staring at a steel horse I swore I’d never get on again. Same make and model that Benji
was on when he died. Shit. I back away like it’s a snake.

“I can’t do this.”
“Yes”—she pulls me back by the fingers—“you can, and you should.” Annie presses a

warm kiss against my neck. “You’re my hero, Blake.” Those doe eyes of hers blink up at
me, and the pressure is on. I know what I need to do. But can I? “I don’t want you to fear
anything. I don’t think your brother would either.”

That’s all I need to hear. Joe comes over and hands me the keys.
“You have quite the persuasive girlfriend here.” He winks at Annie. “She’s a looker,

too.”

“Keep your eyes to yourself,” I say as I dig out a pair of helmets for the both of us.

Annie squeezes hers over the top of her head, and my boner starts ticking to life. “She is
a looker.”

Annie and I get on the bike. She shows me a pair of earplugs before lifting her helmet

and putting them in. I love that she needs them. Nothing pleases me more.

I start her up, and the beast roars to life beneath us. My eyes close a moment. This,

right here, is what Benji did last.

“Where we headed?” Annie shouts.
“I know just the place.” I rev the engine, and we take off.
We tear up concrete all the way there.

The lookout is magnificent this crisp winter morning. The snow is still piled high in the
shade, but it’s the sun and its radiance that steals the show.

“So beautiful,” I say holding Annie. “And I mean you.” I press a kiss to her lips.
“How was it?” She nods toward the bike.

“Freedom. It was freedom.” I brush my lips over hers. “Thank you for giving me that.”

I close my eyes a moment too long and see an image of Benji cussing me out as he left
our apartment that last day. I haven’t talked to anyone about that moment—what really
transpired, what I said that sent him flying out the door in a rage. “The afternoon my
brother died—the last thing that happened between the two of us was a knock down,
drag out fight.” I grimace. “He got a couple good punches in, but it was the words that
hurt the most.”

“I’m so sorry.” Her face grows pale. “Can I ask what happened?”
I swallow hard. “It was about Olivia. She was getting ready to leave my brother. She

couldn’t care less that she was carrying his child—any child for that matter. I caught her
with another guy the night before at a bar. Her mouth was all over his, and it killed me to
know she was doing that stuff to Ben while carrying his kid.” I take a breath and let the
words fly around me like prisoners that finally had the balls to escape.

“That’s terrible. You did the right thing in letting him know.”
“I should have waited. He thought maybe I was gunning to get her back—believe me,

that was the furthest from the truth.”

“Do you remember the last thing you said to one another?” She winces.
“He told me to stay the fuck out of his life, and I told him no problem. He took off,

leaving his helmet behind. The rest is—the end of our story.”

“That’s not true. You’re raising Ben. The story between you and your brother

continues through that little boy. You’re making everything right. You already have.”

Her words settle over my heart like a warm song. Annie is crushing the granite that

my heart turned into and, slowly, ever so slowly I’m starting to accept the fact that
maybe she’s right. That perhaps I did the right thing—it just so happens that life took a
shitty turn. That helmet of his jumps through my mind like a bouncing ball.

“He didn’t wear his helmet half the time, and I was usually the one who insisted. I

didn’t bother insisting that day he left.”

“Blake.” She closes her eyes, and a thin seam of tears glistens in the sun. “You didn’t

do this to him—don’t do this to yourself. Benji would never want you blaming yourself for
the rest of your life. You don’t ever have to forget him, and the best way to honor him is
by remembering the good times that you shared together. Find joy in baby Ben’s smile.
Make Ben your biggest priority. That, right there, would make your brother proud and
happy, and I’m sure his heart would be filled with forgiveness as well.”

A violent wind knocks us off balance before it stills to a whisper.
“That was him.” I give a wry smile. “Whenever we’d make up, he’d end it with a nice

firm shove.” My chest rumbles with a laugh. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think my
brother just agreed with you.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all. Because I know when I’m right.”
Annie slips her hands into the back of my jeans, bypassing my boxers all together.
“Whoa,” I pull back. “You’re about to start a war, little girl.”
“I’m not anybody’s little girl.” She grazes her teeth over her blood red lips as if proving

a point.

I’m still feeling pretty lucky for bumping into her that day. If Benji hadn’t passed, I

wouldn’t have been dropping my classes, and that’s one fucked up way of thinking, so I
shelve it.

“I’m up for finishing what I started.” Her belly rubs over the blooming hard-on in my

jeans. Her fingers quickly undo my button, before I know it my fly is down, and she has
my cock in her hand.

“You’re exposing me to the elements. It’s pretty chilly out here.” I dig my fingers

through the back of her hair. I do a quick sweep of the vicinity, and there’s not a soul
around.

“Maybe I’d better keep it warm.” Annie drops to her knees and wraps her lips over me

before I can protest the idea, not sure I would. A hard groan comes from me as I dig my
fingers through her hair. Her tongue laps around me as her hand cups my balls, and it
doesn’t take long for me to feel like I’m going lose it faster than ever. Before Annie, I
went through girls as fast as I could get through a box of condoms, and now I can’t see
any other girl—all I see is Annie.

Annie is changing things for the better. And I’m grateful that she’s changed me.

The Black Bear. I shake my head at the crowd as the band and I wrap up the set. It was
Annie’s first night hearing me sing at the bar, and she hasn’t stopped thrashing her hands
in the air and dancing. She’s right below me, swaying and reaching her arms up to touch
me as if she were just another piece of rock candy—but she’s not. She’s my rock candy,
and I never was good at sharing. The song is about to end, so I pull Annie up on stage
and wrap my arm around her waist as I sing the last few lyrics straight into her eyes.

“I found my first and last love, and she looks a lot like you—” I stretch out that last

note a little longer than usual because I feel it. Annie is my first and last love. My lips find
hers, and we share a kiss right here on center stage. I don’t hear any objections from the
crowd, just a hell of a lot of people cheering us on.

Annie pulls back with her lips still pink from meeting up with mine. “You were

amazing.”

“Was that too loud?” I ask.

Annie has been in a few situations that made her head pound, and I know for certain

it’s loud as shit in here.

“With your voice? Not loud enough.”
We bounce off stage, and she leads me to where her brothers sit with their better

halves. Wyatt is seated right behind them, lifting his beer in my honor.

“You killed it.” He stands and slaps me five. “Thanks for the invite. You know I love to

hear you do your thing.”

“You heading out?”
Wyatt looks over his shoulder. He’s wearing his suit—the dude doesn’t leave home

without a tie and cufflinks. As much as the band brings the girls front and center, his
power suit has them magnetizing that much more.

“Maybe.” He does a quick sweep of the doorway. “There’s a familiar blonde back there

who just threw out an invitation.”

“You don’t know her name?” Annie glances to the door at the blonde in question, and

her eyes round out. “Never mind, I know her name. That’s my roommate, Marley.”

“Marley.” He tests it out on his lips without taking his eyes off his new midnight snack.

“Sounds good to me.” He taps me in the gut. “See you two at the ranch.”

We watch as he heads toward the door. Marley has already been swallowed up by the

crowd.

“Do you think something will come of that?” Annie cocks her head in disbelief.
“I don’t know. My brother has a particular taste. He’s more of a chains and leashes

kind of guy versus—”

“Versus songs and careful kisses?” She takes a soft bite out of my ear.
“Yeah, that.” I groan in approval.
“I think Marley can take him. She’s always ‘taking one for the team’ when it comes

to…intimate research. All for the sake of her article, of course.” Annie gives a playful
wink. “She’s got a pair of velvet cuffs she’s been using as paperweights. Maybe she’ll
finally get a chance to dust them off.”

“Velvet, huh?” I shake my head at my brother as he threads into the crowd. He always

was a lucky son of a bitch. But then again so am I. My lips find Annie’s as she draws a
hearty groan from me.

Bryson and Holt head over, and my groan takes on a whole new meaning.
“What’s up?” Bryson slaps me on the shoulder.
“Just hanging out with my girl.” Nice. Make yourself sound like a caveman, and see

how far that gets you with the brother brigade.

“I’m glad.” Holt folds his arms over his chest and widens his stance like he’s not. “Just

know we’re still keeping our eyes on you.”

I raise my hands like a criminal. “Feel free, but know you’ll be seeing a lot of this.” I

brazenly peck a kiss off Annie’s cheek, and she laughs. There it is, that beautiful melodic
laugh I can write a song about all on its own.

Bryson nods. “Never mind that. We want to see more of your ugly mug here, at the

Black Bear. How about we start booking the band once a week? Friday or Saturday night
—your pick.”

I look over at the guys on stage still packing away the equipment. “Done.” I know

they want this as much as I do. “This is perfect for us. Thank you.” The 12 Deadly Sins
live to sing another day. I’m loving it.

Bryson gives my arm a light sock. “You’re a good guy.”
“He is a good guy.” Baya pops up from behind and gives me a quick hug. “I’m glad

you and Annie found each other.”

Izzy comes over and wraps herself around Holt. “So? Are we all one big happy family

now?”

“We are.” I pull Annie in and press a kiss on top of her head. “The best family.”
A slow song seeps out of the speakers like an aphrodisiac, and half the bar hits the

dance floor. I pull Annie out with me and bury us deep in the crowd. My arms find a home
around her waist as our hips move in time.

This is it, every school boy fantasy, every adult dream of what I thought I wanted in a

woman is right here in my arms.

I lean in and whisper right into her ear, “I love you.”
Annie looks up with pressing joy in her eyes. “I love you, too.” She bites her lips as if

she were about to say something then changed her mind.

“What is it?” I give her a little nudge.
“Nothing.” She knits her brows, unable to withhold her laughter.
“It’s something—give or I’ll tickle you in front of all of these people,” I tease. And

knowing how much she can’t stand that, I wouldn’t dare.

“Okay.” She looks up at me through a forest of lashes, and my boxers twitch to life. I

can hardly wait to get her home, in my bed—in our bed. God knows it feels empty
without her.

Annie’s hair falls over one eye giving her that vixen appeal that drew me to her that

day at Whitney Briggs. She was calling me even then, and she didn’t know it.

“Don’t laugh”—she holds up a finger—“but, for some reason, I thought when you

whispered into my ear you were going to say something dirty.” Her face reddens a neon
shade of pink.

“Knew it.” I tip my head back. “You’ve got a naughty streak a mile wide.”
“Do not!” She swats me.

“Let’s see about that.” I lean in and whisper the dirtiest sweet nothings into her ear

for the next two songs. Annie groans and grinds her hips into mine like a promise. It’s
pretty evident she approves. It looks like I was right about the naughty streak.

Nope, Annie is nobody’s little girl.
She’s all woman—and, lucky for me, she’s mine.

A N O T E F R O M T H E

A U T H O R

hank you for reading Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5). If you enjoyed this

book please consider leaving a review at your point of purchase.

*Look for Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6) Marley and Wyatt’s story coming early

2015!

B O O K S B Y A D D I S O N

M O O R E

New Adult Romance

3:AM Kisses (3:AM Kisses 1)

Winter Kisses (3:AM Kisses 2)

Sugar Kisses (3:AM Kisses 3)

Whiskey Kisses (3:AM Kisses 4)

Rock Candy Kisses (3:AM Kisses 5)

Velvet Kisses (3:AM Kisses 6) 2015

Burning Through Gravity (Burning Through Gravity 1)

A Thousand Starry Nights (Burning Through Gravity 2) 2015

Fire in an Amber Sky (Burning Through Gravity 3) 2015

Beautiful Oblivion (Beautiful Oblivion 1)

Beautiful Illusions (Beautiful Oblivion 2)

Beautiful Elixir (Beautiful Oblivion 3) 2015

The Solitude of Passion

Someone to Love (Someone to Love 1)

Someone Like You (Someone to Love 2)

Someone For Me (Someone to Love 3)

Celestra Forever After (Celestra Forever After 1)

The Dragon and the Rose (Celestra Forever After 2)

The Serpentine Butterfly (Celestra Forever After 3) 2015

Perfect Love (A Celestra Novella)

Young Adult Romance

Ethereal (Celestra Series Book 1)

Tremble (Celestra Series Book 2)

Burn (Celestra Series Book 3)

Wicked (Celestra Series Book 4)

Vex (Celestra Series Book 5)

Expel (Celestra Series Book 6)

Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7)

Toxic Part Two (Celestra Series Book 7.5)

Elysian (Celestra Series Book 8)

Ephemeral (The Countenance Trilogy 1)

Evanescent (The Countenance Trilogy 2)

Entropy (The Countenance Trilogy 3)

Ethereal Knights (Celestra Knights)

A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

Where to begin? So many awesome people to thank in the making of this very special
novel. Annie’s story is so very dear to me, and I feel privileged to be able to share it with
you. I’m always thrilled to hear reader feedback from the 3:AM Kisses series and there
have been several requests for Annie to get her own story. I hope it was everything you
were hoping for and more! Annie is a sweetheart who deserved her own happily ever
after.

A HUGE awesome thank you to my fabulous street team, Addison’s Angels! I’m so very

humbled to have each of you on board the Angel family. I can’t thank you enough for all
of your hard work and dedication. Hugs to you all!

To the word master, Rachel Tsoumbakos. I don’t know how I ever got lucky enough to

have you. Your ability to find words that I cannot see is staggering. Thank you for pouring
over my manuscript and helping me polish this rough stone into a gleaming, beautiful
jewel. Also, I secretly love it when I make you cry. It’s the little things.

Christina Kendler, thank you for everything you do for me. I’m always humbled that

you take time out of your busy day to help dust off my words. I’m forever indebted to
you! I owe you lots and lots of dinners!

A special thank you to Kathryn Jacoby, superwoman extraordinaire! I really am

blessed to know you. Thank you for your amazing proofing skills as well as being the
world’s best PA! Thank you for putting up with all of my chaos and crazy late night
messages. Feel free to ignore my 3 A.M. messages that literally take place at 3 A.M.

To the very sweet Tabby Coots, thank you for reading Rock Candy and giving me your

valuable input. I really treasure our friendship. I appreciate all you do girl!

A big thank you to Rachel Dick for evaluating the manuscript and giving me your

thoughts on how to refine and make it a better book. I really can’t thank you enough for
taking the time to pour over my work. I value you!

Of course, thank you to my girl, Sarah Freese, who, despite all the chaos that life

could throw our way, managed to help me finish this book before the deadline. Thank you
so very much for your generosity. I’m thankful for all you do. I really am so appreciative

to have you on my team!

And last, but never least, thank you to Him who sits on the throne. Worthy is the

Lamb. Glory and honor and power are yours. I owe you everything.

A B O U T T H E

A U T H O R

Addison Moore is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author who writes contemporary and

paranormal romance. Her work has been featured in Cosmopolitan Magazine. Previously she worked as a therapist on a

locked psychiatric unit for nearly a decade. She resides on the West Coast with her husband, four wonderful children, and

two dogs where she eats too much chocolate and stays up way too late. When she's not writing, she's reading.

Feel free to visit her at:

Instagram: http://instagram.com/authoraddisonmoore
Goodreads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4096668.Addison_Moore

*Be sure to subscribe to Addison’s mailing list for sneak peeks and updates on all upcoming releases!

http://blogspot.us6.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=75b60ef733&id=b8bbf0dd80

For more information:

@AddisonMoore

140192649382294

addisonmoorewrites.blogspot.com

Document Outline

Copyright
Books by Addison Moore
Prologue
1. Whitney Briggs University
2. Blake
3. Perfect Stranger
4. Blake
5. Silent Kisses
6. Blake
7. The Sound of Music
8. Blake
9. Night Magic
10. Blake
11. Family Matters
12. Blake
13. Rock and Roll with the Punches
14. Blake
15. Last Song
16. Blake
A Note from the Author
Books by Addison Moore
Acknowledgments
About the Author

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