“Good morning, little treasure,” he said, releasing me to sign the words.
My throat tightened with emotion. I lay there just looking at him, unsure what to say first.
A stubborn glint flickered in his metallic-blue eyes before he hid it. I almost smiled at the sight.
“No more sleeping apart,” he signed, his brow furrowed, displeasure mixed with determination. His word would be law. “No more falling asleep crying.”
I couldn’t promise that. For too many nights since Nova’s death, I’d done that, and I had no doubt it would happen in the future. Missing her hit me hardest when I was in bed, on the edge of sleep.
“Not without me holding you, treasure,” Max amended, his own grief dulling his eyes.
All I could do was nod, knowing my hands would shake too badly if I tried to sign a response.
“I took my punishment, but now I’m asking for mercy. Please, treasure. Give me clemency. All I want is for you to be happy. Right now, I know that feels impossible, but let me try. I can’t…” Pain twisted across his face, his throat working and his eyes filling with tears that I’d only witnessed fall a few times. When I’d walked down the aisle to him. At the birth of our son. And again at Nova’s funeral.
Now, this.
This man, an angel of death, had a very short list of what made him weak, and I was firmly in the number one spot. Loving him, even when it was terrifying and pure agony, was the best thing to ever happen to me.
I had to be brave.
For him and our son.
Giving him a slow kiss, one that wasn’t meant to be passionate, but to tell him all the words I couldn’t sign right then, I gathered my courage. No matter how low the chances, how big the risks, I had to try. Even if it was only for a moment, a single heartbeat…if I could hear his voice once, it would be worth it.
***
That first appointment had been a gut-punch. The doctor gave Max more hope than he did me, but I held on to my husband’s hand tightly and signed the consent papers. I had the scans and all the pre-op procedures.
Getting the news that Nova was alive, happy and healthy and married to Ryan like she was supposed to be, was the miracle we all needed. Which had brought another level of hope at the possibilities the doctor promised. But one surgery turned into two, and then they kept putting off the date to activate the implant.
Now it was freaking Valentine’s Day, and I was sitting in the doctor’s office. Waiting. Hopeful. Secretly prepared to be told something else had happened to delay this moment. Or worse, that it had all been for nothing. I’d never hear, and I’d be stuck with this dang headache for the rest of my life.
Max sat beside me as we waited, his knees bouncing in that way that told me he was anxious. We were alone in the room,or he wouldn’t have allowed himself to show even a second of weakness. He kept squeezing my fingers, trying to reassure me everything was okay, but we both knew he was the one struggling more at the moment.
Honestly, I couldn’t wait to be home. Raven had Ronan for the night. She and Bash were babysitting all the grandkids so everyone could have a romantic evening. A long soak in a hot bubble bath with my husband, candles flickering all around us, and an entire Death by Chocolate Cake that Kingston had baked for us sounded like the best Valentine’s Day celebration to me. Just like we’d done the previous year and the one before that.
Max got all cute and romantic when it came to this holiday. Like he wasn’t the best freaking husband on the planet every other day of the year, he had to go and amp it up on Valentine’s. Roses, stuffed animals, all the chocolate a girl could ever dream of. And the most amazing sex.
Yep, I one hundred percent wanted to skip this stress-inducing bullcrap and jump straight to the good parts of the day.
Finally, the door opened, and my team of doctors stepped in. Dr. Altman was the audiologist who had helped my otologists and neurotologists, Dr. Liang and Dr. Portmann. All three were the leading specialists in cochlear implants on the West Coast. Max had done extensive research, only accepting the best of the best to help him give me this chance at another miracle.
One I was growing less and less hopeful for with each passing minute.
Dr. Liang started signing to me as soon as the door was closed and everyone had shaken Max’s hand. They did that every time they saw him, and I was curious if it was because they were intimidated by him or if someone had paid them an obscene amount of money. With the way Dr. Portmann always kept a good two feet between himself and Max whenever they were inthe same proximity, I figured it was more intimidation than a cash thing.
More than likely, though, I could guess that one or more of our extended family had made donations to the medical center. I’d read a few people’s lips in passing and was aware that Monroe had funded an entire pediatric ENT wing. Gian had given her a huge amount of money to do charity work with, not just in and around Trinity County, but in Italy as well. She made a sport of spreading as much good as she could with what she considered the blood money that had been accumulated by the monsters who had once tried to break the man she loved.
“Are you ready?” Dr. Liang signed, giving me a warm smile. She was the one who did most of the talking/signing during our appointments. Before each of my surgeries, she’d been there with reassurance and ready to answer any questions we had. When one surgery turned into two, she was the one who bolstered my faltering courage to keep going.
I gave a small nod, my palms suddenly sweating. I wiped them on my skirt, shooting Max a tiny smile when I felt his eyes on me. His throat worked a few times, but Dr. Altman pulled my focus.
Soon, I had the white disks attached to my head. Adjustments were made, and Dr. Liang appeared to laugh at something Dr. Portmann said. My headache began to grow a little more intense, and then there was a kind of squealing in my head. As if someone had scratched a record. Or the screeching of a microphone, giving too much audio feedback. I remembered hearing that sound once at a school assembly. I’d been living off the memory of certain sounds for so long, I wasn’t even sure that described what I’d just experienced.
My next breath stalled in my lungs.
That wasn’t just in my head. I’dheardit.
