Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
dexter
“All right, gently. Nico, easy on your side. That’s it. In we go.” My hands follow the horizontal log, cinched on either side with chains as the hydraulic lift lowers it until it aligns with the joints and locks into place. “Perfect. Let’s get the next side prepped.”
The yellow hardhat on Florence’s head shakes.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Something you want to say?”
Facing me, she nibbles her lip. “I’m pretty sure you said the same thing to me last night.”
“Jesus, Florence.” I chuckle and eat up the flush on her cheeks. “Get your head out of the gutter.”
She smirks, mouth moving, but with the noise from the lift, chainsaw behind us, and a truck backing up, I don’t catch what she says. We slept in this morning, and in our rush to get ready, I forgot my hearing aid.
Yes, it’s uncomfortable, but I never realized how much it helps until wearing it for long periods of time.
Today, the tinnitus and aural fullness are kicking my ass.
The only way I can describe it is like the high-pitched ringing you hear in movies after a grenade goes off.
Today’s isn’t serious. These short spells happen—it’s the timing that’s inconvenient.
We’re on a tight schedule, close to falling behind if we don’t get the four walls of the final cabin up before the shift ends.
Noting my confused expression, she tugs me away from the chaos.
“That better?” she asks.
“Hmm.” I shrug, tilting my head to ease the pressure.
“Why don’t you hang out in the office?” She nods toward the porta cabin. “The day’s almost over. They have it covered.”
“Nah, I’m good.” I bristle.
She bites back her argument. “Okay. Don’t overdo it. I’m gonna go find Megan and take some photos for the portfolio.”
As she goes to walk away, I hook a finger through her belt loop, tugging her into me.
I shrug off my high visibility vest and drape it over her shoulders before adjusting her hat.
“Safety first. Stay at the rear of the cabin, stick close to Megan, and don’t walk under anything suspended in the air. Got it?”
A cute frown wrinkles her forehead. “So grouchy and protective.”
I huff. “Get used to it. I protect what’s precious to me.”
Her face softens, limbs melting. I love it when she reacts this way.
Eyes darting left then right, she pops up and plants a chaste kiss on the edge of my mouth. “You’re precious to me too, so take it easy.”
She boops me on the nose then skips away.
My cheek tingles for the rest of the afternoon, the softness of her lips a phantom caress. I carry out risk assessments, quality checks, and show Sam, our junior carpenter, how to change the blade on a power saw.
Every second I’m on my feet, the shrill bells increase. Every step jostles my brain. A throbbing pulse pounds against my temple.
Fuck, I need to sit down.
Sam stares at me with worry when the blade drops to the floor, my hands shaking so much, I lose my grip. His lips move. No sound. Just muffled nonsense, like I’m submerged under water.
One curt nod is all I manage, hoping that assures him I’m fine and is an appropriate response to whatever he said before excusing myself.
You should’ve listened to Florence. Safety first.
My work boots drag over the carpet of pine needles. It’s twenty yards to the porta cabin, but before I make it halfway, Sam darts past me, sprinting behind the cabin, then Nico.
The fuck? Why are they running?
Panic seizes me. My blood runs cold. A chill runs down my spine.
Something has happened.
Someone’s hurt.
No.
No. No. No.
I siphon all dregs of energy, pumping my leaden arms and driving my legs forward as I jog in the same direction.
A crowd of ten people stands by the stack of lumber. Their loud voices sneak in past the bells. My entire world crashes when the sea of bodies part, revealing the scene.
Three sixteen-foot pine logs have rolled from the pile, the ratchet strap used to secure them lying useless and frayed.
Not being able to work. Losing all my hearing. Feeling isolated from society. Those were the nightmares that haunted me, day and night.
Until this moment.
Sprawled on the ground, hard hat off to the side, lies Florence, arm draped over her face, blood trickling from a gash on her elbow.
I move at warp speed.
My knees crack against the hard earth, hands hovering, afraid of hurting her further. Voice foggy and muffled, I speak for the first time in what feels like hours.
“Florence. Baby.”
Relief is a drop in a vast ocean of sickening worry when her arm shifts, a single emerald eye peering up at me. She lets out a shaky exhale then speaks.
I can’t hear it.
I can’t move.
Can’t talk.
Can’t get air into my lungs.
My chest constricts, barbed wire clenching harder and harder.
She notices the change in my breathing and goes to sit up, only to wince when she jostles her bad arm. “I’m fine.”
Reading those words on her lips does nothing to ease my panic.
She reaches for my face, but I pull away. Hurt twists her features. She says something, but she’s distracted when Megan drops beside us with a first aid kit.
That should’ve been my first stop.
Florence shouldn’t have left my side.
She could have died.
And if it weren’t for the others running to her, I wouldn’t have known. I would’ve gone for a fucking nap, pillow wrapped around my head to block out the ringing, and not known the most precious thing in my life was in danger.
How the fuck am I supposed to look out for her? To keep her safe? What if I lose all hearing? What if she needs me?
What if I never hear her laugh again?
I’m not good for her. She could get hurt because of me.
She’ll stick by me now, but if my hearing goes or the attacks become more regular, then what?
Just imagining the pitying look in her eyes or disappointment weighing on her shoulders slices through me.
The demons that stopped me from getting too close to her all those months ago return, digging their talons into me, dragging me to my feet.
Florence tries to stand, but Megan keeps tight hold of her while she bandages her arm.
Good.
She shouldn’t follow me.
My demons carry me away. Across the yard. Toward my truck.
When I’m enclosed inside, the scent of coconut assaults me.
My fist comes down on the wheel, against the seat. Hot tears spring to my eyes, clouding my vision.
“Fuck,” I roar. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
This sensation of helplessness and agony is exactly the reason I made the vow I did almost twenty years ago.
Music bounces around the sand dunes. The fire spits when someone throws another piece of drift wood on it. The grass I’m hiding between whispers in the wind.
Already, those sounds are dulling.
One day, they’ll be gone.
Ménière’s Disease.
Even my parents shared a puzzled look when the doctor revealed why I’d been experiencing dizzy spells, intense buzzing in my ears, and most recently, hearing loss in my left ear.
No cure. Treatment isn’t guaranteed to help. Risk of going completely deaf. When? Well, that’s the fucking kicker. There’s no timeframe. Could be in five years or twenty.
A spray of sand hits my knees.
Patrick stands a few feet away, wearing a confused expression. “What are you doing here?”
Today was our last day as juniors. Our class is celebrating at Piper Beach with a few kegs and a bonfire. It’s only a matter of time until the sheriff comes and shuts this down. After the summer, we’ll officially be seniors, and then, before we know it, we’ll be heading off to college. Not me.
Not now.
With a shrug, I accept the red cup from my best friend. “Too noisy.”
He nods in understanding. My best friend was the first person I called when we got home from the hospital today. He knows me better than anyone, including the fact I’m struggling to accept the news.
“Fuck, I didn’t think,” he says, sitting beside me. “We can leave. Go back to my house.”
I gesture to the blonde down on the beach. “What about Jo?”
“What about her?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“It’s not like that.” Even in the dark, there’s no hiding his infatuation. “Chloe Rodriguez was asking about you. Want me to send her over?”
“No,” I snap and wince at my harsh tone. “No. Not tonight.”
Pat eyes me skeptically. “Sure. No pressure, man.”
We sit in silence. Is this what it’s going to be like? My best friend not knowing how to communicate with me? The doctor mentioned a hearing aid, and while I said I’d think about it, the idea of the device drawing attention to me makes my skin itch.
“I know today wasn’t the news you were hoping for.” He lays a hand on my shoulder. “I’m here whenever you want to talk about it. You’ll get through this.”
My head jerks once.
It’s not life threatening, no, but my life’s dramatically altered. I don’t know what I want to do as a career, but this will limit my options, surely. Fuck, can I drive?
Patrick’s gaze floats toward Johanna, just like it always does.
I think about how my parents were curled up on the sofa together when I said goodbye earlier.
I’m only seventeen, but I wanted that. The start of something new and exciting. A lifelong love like theirs.
But what’s the point? Who wants to be stuck with someone who’s bedridden for days because of an attack or has to learn how to communicate again if they lose all hearing?
Looking out on the bay, I vow to do this alone. It’s my war to fight, no one else’s.
Hating myself.
Hating my stupid fucking condition.
Hating that I fucking love her.
Hating, despising, and resenting.
I forced my hand, and now, there’s no other option but to break a vow. But it isn’t the one I made two decades ago.