Chapter 26 #2
But that’s just my past talking—all the voices that once said I would never be good enough for anyone or anything. All the people who laughed at the idea of a Deaf man getting up onstage in drag to embrace rhythm and song.
But none of those voices belong to Archie. He has been my protector and my savior. The stalker who rescued me from a much worse fate. The man who hunted me, then caught me in his trap and decided to keep me for the rest of our lives.
And I wouldn’t trade this for the world.
Archie has been gone for two days, and while my routine hasn’t actually changed at all, I’m starting to feel restless. Milo seems to take notice, though he invites me to the café in a very Milo sort of way.
He doesn’t ask. He just throws a bag at me and signs, ‘Get your shoes on. We’re leaving in ten minutes.’
I have half a mind to put up a fight, but Nico’s back and seems to be in a foul mood, and Percy took his escape hours ago, saying he had to go check on some business.
Business usually means people losing toes, or maybe a tongue, or hell, even a life.
It’s not my business, and I’ve decided that loving Archie means it never will be.
It’ll hover on the periphery of our life together, and I will simply accept it for what it is.
But I do need to get out of the house for a bit.
I’ve been cooped up here since Archie left, and it’s not doing me any good.
I also like cats, and they tend to like me, and I’m also learning how to make lattes so I can help out during summers when any of the brothers need some time away from the counter.
It doesn’t take me long to get ready, and when I emerge from the basement, I end up finding Milo already waiting for me in his truck.
He’s got an impatient look on his face, so I don’t make him wait, jogging over and strapping in as he guns it across the dirt driveway, eventually taking a hard right when we get to the county road.
Milo’s the weakest when it comes to ASL, so he doesn’t sign while he drives, and my CIs are in their case because I have a lingering headache that’s probably from the stress of not having Archie here.
He doesn’t seem to mind the silence though, which I appreciate about him. He’s the brother I’ve gotten to know the least. He holds everything close to his chest, though he’s not exactly subtle when it comes to loving his cats or preparing for some kind of kidnapping.
If the ropes, duct tape, and blindfold he keeps in his go-bag are anything to go by.
But I know he’s not after me, so I am happy to remain ignorant, and I watch the scenery pass as we head into town.
The café is right on the edge of the city limits, and Milo parks in the back, then tosses me the keys to open the front while he goes into the side room where he keeps all the litter boxes.
I appreciate I don’t have that chore and instead turn on the Open sign and then head into the café area to get the espresso machine warming up. I don’t mind the busywork. I did this when I was in college to help make ends meet, and a lot of it is muscle memory.
I don’t see Milo for a good long while, but after nearly forty minutes, he comes through the cat door and waves to get my attention with one hand, cradling a small black kitten with the other.
‘We need to leave.’
I blink at him. ‘Where?’
‘Vet. She’s sick.’
I take a good look at the kitten and see that her eyes are gummed shut, and she’s trembling. The poor thing. ‘Okay,’ I quickly sign. ‘I can handle things here.’
He shakes his head. ‘No. I promised Archie I wouldn’t leave you.’
With a groan, I reach into my pocket for my CI case and take them out. As I turn them on and get them attached, I meet Milo’s gaze. “I can handle it. I used to work in a coffee shop before I became a professor. And it’s not like anything’s going to happen here.”
He gives me a steady, cool look, then says, “Percy’s on his way anyway. He won’t be more than twenty minutes. Do. Not. Leave. Here.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Where am I going to go?”
Milo doesn’t answer that. “If anything happens, call one of us, lock the doors, and hit the red button on the underside of the counter where the register is.”
It shouldn’t surprise me that they have a panic button. ‘Okay,’ I sign.
He nods, then looks down at the kitten. “I don’t have any reservations today. Discourage walk-ins unless it’s someone you know.”
That seems fair. I don’t feel very nervous, but there’s a tiny bit of fear leftover from the last time I was alone. But I’m not going to play the panic game with myself. I’ve been through enough, and like he said, Percy’s already on his way.
Milo takes a soft cat carrier out of the supply closet and wraps the kitten in a small blanket, then tucks the straps into the crook of his elbow.
He gives me one more pointed look before heading out the front door, and it’s not long before I see his truck pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
And then, I’m alone.
My nerves begin to spark, but they’re mostly overrun by how much I miss Archie and how I ache to see him. I pull out my phone and take a selfie since the lighting makes my cheekbones look amazing, and then I send it.
Me: At the café, thinking of you.
Archie: Be home soon, little rabbit.
Those five words mean so much more than that. They mean he misses me too. That he’s thinking of me. That he’s fantasizing about what we’ll do when he gets home.
But I want just a little more.
Me: I love you.
A full minute goes by, and I think maybe it’s too much, but then three dots appear, disappear, then reappear again.
But it’s not a written message. It’s a photo of him—the first selfie he might have ever taken in his life. It’s just his mouth and nose, and then his hand under his chin making the three-fingered sign that I ached to see.
Archie: I love you too.
I startle when lights flash, and it’s in that moment that I realize one of the brothers installed a flashing alarm. It must be for me since none of them need it, and I try to shove down how fucking touched I am as I fight off nerves.
I’m in the café, and it takes me a moment to find the courage to peer around the corner into the lobby, my heart going from my throat back to my chest when I recognize a familiar dark head of hair and black-framed glasses.
Rome catches the movement and meets my gaze, his eyes softening, though he looks confused. ‘You’re working here?’
‘Helping,’ I explain, then regret it. He’s going to have a million fucking questions, and I’ve been avoiding my Deaf friends for that reason alone.
His head tilts to the side as he watches me approach the register, and his eyes linger on the side of my jaw where the very last of my bruises are fading into my skin.