He rarely saw them, but when he did, he got to be the secret keeper. ‘Whisper them in my ear,’ he’d tell both his parents, his hands moving slowly through the signs they always struggled with. ‘I can’t hear them, so I can keep them safe.’
They would, and he felt them lodged in his chest, still to this day even though he’d left most of his childhood behind.
He allowed himself another few moments before reaching for his phone and seeing if his little group chat had anything going on. He’d managed to make and keep a few Deaf friends in the city, but they were nothing like his friends back home. The people in River Crest understood his Deafness, but the rest of him was a stranger to their upper, middle-class backgrounds.
Cade: Drink tonight?
Kelly: Where?
Cade: St. Augustine
Logan: Not want drive that far, work too late.
Kelly: Loser.
Cade: oooh [pow]
Logan: [got me]. Loser who want curl up blanket like burrito. Next time.
Cade: ILY.
Kelly: ILY
He allowed his friends’ casual affection to settle under his skin before he pushed his phone back into his apron and climbed to his feet. Trudging back into the kitchen, Logan found most of the side station broken down and the dishes being pushed through the washer. He reached for one of the pans, but Marco tapped his wrist and shook his head.
‘Go home.’ One of the few commands the kitchen staff had learned in actual ASL, and it made his stomach drop with relief.
‘Yeah?’
Marco shooed him again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He swung by the little cabinet that served as a locker, swapping his apron for his coat. He found his keys tucked away in his Converse, which he slipped on, leaving his work shoes on the rack, then rushed out the door.
The air was heavy with rain again—which was nothing new for the time of year. If he hurried, he could make it back to his place without an incident. He could feel electricity crackling along the air though, and the last thing he wanted was to be stuck in another downpour.
The Vespa came to life under him, and he took the turn a little sharply as he exited the parking lot and headed onto the road. The A1A was always fairly dead that time of night, especially that far from the main city, so he cruised along, meeting every green light and feeling like fate was on his side.
He was distracted with the anticipation of being able to throw on some porn when he got home and take some of the edge off his mood, and he wanted to draw it out. It had been a damn long time since he had the freedom or time for even a one-night stand, but he took care of himself well enough. He had long-since stopped relying on other people to give him what he wanted or needed. He was an expert in his own pleasure and was resolved never to ever feel shame about it.
He was half-lost in a vague fantasy when he came around a corner, and he supposed maybe there had been a horn blaring, but with his hearing aids out, he hadn’t heard it. Instead, he had a single moment to see headlights flashing at him, and he was surprised when the side of a truck bumper caught the edge of his scooter. For an eternal second, nothing happened, then he realized he was flying off the road. The scooter was swept out from under him as his body hit the pavement with a heavy thud, rolling to the side and landing in a ditch of water and soggy grass. His head was spinning, and he managed to get one eye open in time to see the back-end of a truck disappear into the darkness.
Dazed and shaking, Logan pushed to his feet and glanced around. It was dark, the only real light from the moon and the foggy headlamp of the Vespa where it lay on its side in the ditch. Taking a moment to assess his body, he felt a sharp pain in his ribs, but nothing else seemed to be broken. It might have been shock, but apart from his shaking fingers, nothing felt wrong.
His scooter was a few feet away, and he limped over to see if it was beyond repair. The Vespa’s engine was still under his fingers, and when he tried to pull it upright, he felt searing pain race down his arm. He didn’t think he was hospital-levels of hurt, but enough that there was no way he’d get the thing upright. Hell, he wasn’t even sure it would start the way it was.
Closing his eyes, he sank to the ground, then fished out his phone and let out a sigh of relief when he saw the screen wasn’t cracked. His fingers were still shaking, but he managed to open up his group chat and type into the little window.
Logan: Where u @
Kelly: Dance. Durnk. U com
Shit. Logan sighed and tapped his fingers along the edge of the device. He’d text for a Lyft, except that his bank account was barely above zero, and all he had was the cash in his pocket left from Smokey’s tip. It was three miles to walk, and the longer he sat, the more he started to feel the pain from when his body hit the pavement.
His throat tightened, and he felt a hot, burning sensation behind his eyelids before he realized what he had to do.
‘This is my number, and you can use it if you ever need anything. Me or one of my guys will be happy to help,’ Smokey had told him once.
It seemed like a gesture at the time, when Smokey had passed over the note. Just a thoughtless kindness he never thought he’d have to cash in. But as the sky above him began to rumble, the thunder prickling across the tops of his arms, he knew.
He didn’t have another choice.
Chapter Five
“Madeline?” His voice rose and carried through the rooms, and Gunner’s stomach started to twist around itself because their little place was two rooms and a closet posing as an office. She was one child, and it shouldn’t have taken him more than a second to find her.
Gunner’s mind too often went to dark places: Shadows filled with ugly laughter and sneering voices and skeletal fingers with jagged nails ripping Madeline away from him. Broken Chains didn’t exactly follow the law, but they weren’t like Satan’s Souls.
The ones who didn’t give a single shit about anything—not even in their own club, because they were too fucked-up to care. Gunner was lucky he got out quickly, but he also lived in a small place of fear that one of them would catch wind of where he and Madeline had fled and…
“No.”
The tiny whisper was a beacon, drawing him to the linen closet he’d passed by twice and hadn’t even registered. His heart was in his throat, thudding heavily with relief enough that it made him dizzy, and his hand shook as he reached for the knob.
Wrenching the door open, Gunner fixed his face as best he could into a disapproving scowl as he stared down at the small girl, pressed tight against the wall with a tablet resting on her knees. She looked up at him, face flooded with guilt, because not only had she been hiding, but she was breaking the one rule his sorry, soft heart managed to level against her after her piss-poor behavior at the shop.
“Do you want to explain yourself?” he asked.
“But…”
Gunner shook his head, then crooked his finger and stepped back so she could clamber out. The tablet screen was dark when she handed it over, and he tucked it under his arm as he pointed to the bathroom. “Shower. Now.” Madeline stared at him, long and defiant, then stomped her foot and rushed past, slamming the door behind her.