Chapter 20 #2
God. I know I can ask Robbie for an interpreting spot at the college if I need to. It’s not the worst job. But I don’t feel like I’ve actually had any time to recuperate from the major burnout from my job before.
My shoulders start to ache just thinking about it, and I shove that aside for now because there’s a look on Thorne’s face that tells me this is only part of the problem.
I tap him until he looks up at me. “What else?”
He licks his lips. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be doing any of this. My hearing loss relegated me to desk work more than a year ago.”
I blink. “So coming here to confront the big, bad keeper of men in basements was you rebelling?”
His cheeks pink slightly, and he shrugs, biting his lip. “I just wanted to do something big and important before I left.”
Blowing out a puff of air, I nod. “This feels pretty big and important.”
“If they find something, yeah,” he says.
“Are you going to, like, get arrested for this? Because I will wait for you, but it’ll suck.”
He bursts into laughter, then surges in and takes a messy, possessive kiss.
“No,” he says against my lips. “I’m not going to get arrested.
But I’m also not going to be able to hang out here at the house while they’re doing what they need to do.
I’ll have to go back to Portland to tie up all my loose ends. ”
“I’m assuming I won’t be allowed here either.”
He pulls a grimace at me. “Very likely no.”
“Hmm.” Thoughts run through my head a mile a minute, and I realize I’m shaking, and I feel like I’m going to throw up because I want to ask a question, but I think I might actually die if the answer is no. I lift my hands because signing in this moment is easier. ‘I like Portland.’
Thorne frowns in confusion as he lifts his own hands to reply. ‘Portland’s fine.’
‘Rains.’
‘Yes.’ He looks even more confused, his gaze darting toward the window because it’s about to start raining here too.
I take in another deep breath, then glance at his ears to make sure he’s got his hearing aids in because I do not want him to misunderstand me. “It could be a good place to hang out while strange men in suits who aren’t as hot as you are tearing up my home.”
“Yeah, I…oh. Oh.” Yeah. He gets it now. I can hear my heart beating in my ears, but then a slow, almost surprised and kind of shy smile spreads across his lips. “You sure? I mean, my apartment is kind of shit.”
My laugh is the definition of incredulous because is he fucking kidding me with that? “This is maybe—probably—the house of a serial killer, dude. I’m okay if your apartment is a little bit shit.”
He blinks, then surges in once more and takes me by the jaw and kisses me hard. Messy. Open mouth and a lot of tongue, teeth digging into my lower lip. It feels like he wants to devour me, and I am absolutely okay with that.
When he pulls back, he’s breathing a little hard. “When it’s over, I want to come back here.”
“Here here?”
He shrugs. “It’s not like they’re going to set it on fire. There will be a way to rebuild. They’ll take out whatever they find, and we can start fresh.”
We.
I don’t miss the way he says that. I don’t misunderstand the words he’s not saying. Whatever he has, he’s willing to leave it in the past.
“Thorne, are you sure? Like sure sure? Like, sure, sure, sure…”
He presses a finger to my lips, his mouth not smiling, but his eyes kind of are. “I’m all the sures.”
“Small towns aren’t as cute as they look though. You know that, right? And my community here? It’s Deaf. Deaf plus small town, everyone is extra in your business. And you are way more interesting than a teacher who does drag or some asshole with his Beamer who runs his dad’s old finance company.”
He bursts into laughter. “Oh, I don’t know. The drag thing was really interesting the first time I saw a show. And as long as you’re in my business, Leaf, that’s all I care about.”
I take a deep breath, then sit back and let all of that settle into my bones. He wants me. He wants a life with me. He wants to take me with him to tie up all of his loose ends, and then he wants to make something here.
Like I matter.
Like I’m important.
Thorne touches the side of my face, and I meet his gaze. He looks concerned. “What?”
“What what?”
“You look like you’re about to cry.”
“That’s ridicu—oh.” Yeah, I can hear it in my own voice, that tightness. And my eyes feel a little hot. “Shut up. I’m hungover and sensitive right now.” I’m not a crier, but goddamn, everything that’s happened over the last few months has been so fucking much.
At some point, I probably am going to have a huge, chest-deep, sobbing breakdown and cry myself into dehydration. Today, it’s just a few stray tears, and those are mostly because I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.
I have this muscular, gorgeous, sex on a stick weirdo who stalked me into falling in love with him, a home about to be destroyed but with the potential to make it so much more, and I have hope.
That last one? That’s the best fucking part.
“Where do we start?” I ask him.
He smiles at me and shakes his head. “You are going to take a shower while I make you something for breakfast to soak up all the junk in your system. Then you’re going to either lay down and relax or go into town and meet with friends, and I’m going to do some serious digging.”
“You don’t want help?”
He curls his fingers around my jaw. “I just want you. And I have you. And I love you. That’s enough.”
I decide to let those words be poetic and sweet and beautiful instead of a kind way of telling me that I’d only fuck things up or be in the way. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid getting in even more trouble by letting some civilian or whatever I’d be called onto a crime scene.
Whatever the case, it sounds delightful. There are plenty of people I can go bother for a few hours while Thorne does his thing.
‘Kiss me,’ I sign.
He grins wider, leans in, and does.