Page 4 of Unspoken Love

“It never gets old,” Nate said beside her, his eyes on the view. “I guess it’s one of the things holding me here. You don’t get views like this in the city.”

“No,” she agreed, “you sure don’t.”

She’d been dreading eating dinner alone in a bustling restaurant, trying to keep up with voices and noise and whatever her implant decided to do in the moment. It had exhausted her before, which is why she had ended up on the beach in the first place.

Nate made her feel… steady. Easy.

At her brother’s wedding, when everyone else had been dancing or shouting across tables, Nate had sat beside her and used sign language. Sure, he’d been slow at it, but it had helped her relax when he’d cracked a bunch of jokes and talked to her about art. There had been no pressure. No pity. Just really great conversation. He’d been one of the only people she’d really talked to that weekend.

There were a lot of people in town who knew sign language, and some had stopped by and chatted, which had made her feel less lonely.

That was before her implant surgery—before she could hear anything again. Even if the sounds still came in waves that she didn’t always trust, she could at least hear his sexy voice now.

And here he was again. Somehow, it felt like his company was exactly what she needed.

Chapter Two

Nate pulled into the parking lot of the Golden Oar at sunset. The lavender sky was filled with rose-colored clouds that glowed over the town. Lanterns glowed like stars around the parking lot and pathways. The building’s newly whitewashed siding gave the old place a fresh, welcoming feel.

This was home.

He glanced over at Faye as she studied the hand-carved sign above the entrance. The words The Golden Oar glinted in gold leaf above a carved ship tossed by swirling blue waves. Her expression was thoughtful, her face lit gently by the lights, as if she were trying to memorize the moment.

“You said that you’ve been here before?” he asked as he turned off the engine.

She nodded her head. “My mother took me once to meet Iian Jordan, shortly after Max moved to town. Iian is sort of my hero. I read about him, how he lost his hearing at age eighteen yet went on to become such an amazing chef, in an article a few years ago. Max always said that he’d bring me back here when I came to visit him again, but something always came up, so I’ve only been here the one time.”

Nate smiled. “Well, you’re long overdue for a return visit then.”

They walked up the short wooden ramp, and he opened one of the double doors, which had “Welcome to the Golden Oar” etched into the glass.

She stepped inside and he was reminded at how much he had enjoyed his time with her at Max and Juliette’s wedding. She had a grace about her. She was the kind of person that didn’t demand attention, yet held it once it was given.

She had looked lost and confused most of the night, so he’d sat with her and used his limited knowledge of sign language to keep her company.

Back then, Max had told him that Faye had lost the last of her hearing almost five years before. She was starting the process of getting the implant that would map her brain waves and allow her to hear some. He was thankful that it appeared the implant was working. Tonight he was talking to her, not signing.

He didn’t know what was going on with her now, if her light-headedness on the beach was something more than just hunger. She had certainly looked as if she was in a great deal of pain.

Inside the restaurant, the dining room was lit with the glow from the sunset that streamed in through the wall of windows that overlooked the Pacific. The place was pretty crowded for a Tuesday night, thanks to the live music they had started having on weeknights.

Currently, Tony Wilkins, a local, was setting up his guitar on the small stage and prepping to play.

The elegant oil paintings that lined the walls of the dining room showcased stormy seas, vivid sunsets, and even a few fantasy scenes with mermaids drifting through underwater ruins. The air smelled of sizzling meat, butter, and something rich simmering in wine.

This was as much home to him as the Brew-Ha-Ha and his parents’ house, which he’d grown up in. He’d spent a summer waiting tables here when he had grown bored of working in the bookstore.

Taylor Keaton, whom he’d known since grade school, greeted them at the hostess stand with a warm smile and led them to a small table near the glass wall that looked out over the darkening water.

“This place is—” She stopped, her gaze flicking to a painting of a fishing boat being tossed in violent waves.

“It’s something, huh?” Nate finished for her, sliding into the chair across from her. “Kind of walks the line between cozy and dramatic.”

“It feels…” she started again, then gave a small smile. “It feels right. Like it doesn’t need to try too hard.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Exactly.”

The small candles on the table flickered between them, causing golden shadows over her skin and making her eyes almost dance. She looked more relaxed now—her shoulders lower, her breathing steadier. She still looked a little tired, but not nearly as pale as she had been on the beach.