What the hell was wrong with me?
I couldn’t say how long we hung there for, but when he began walking toward me again, I wasn’t afraid.
Yeah, complete and utter insanity.
He stopped a couple of feet from me and then dug out his phone. I watched in surprise as he began punching something into it, but instead of putting the phone to his ear like he was going to make a call, he handed it to me.
I took it and read the screen.
I had to read the note he’d typed out twice before I understood what I was seeing.
It’s me, Dallas.
I looked up in surprise and watched as he grabbed the phone, turned the flashlight on and then held the light up so I could see his face. “Dallas,” I said in disbelief.
Jesus Christ, my savior was Dallas fucking Kent? Why the hell hadn’t he just said so and saved us both all the drama? I was about to ask him that very question when he suddenly raised his hand and reached for the fabric wrapped around his throat. I couldn’t stifle my gasp as the material fell away to reveal a jumbled mass of scars all over his throat. Realization and horror dawned at the same exact time.
He hadn’t spoken to me because he couldn’t.
Dallas Kent, Pelican Bay’s golden boy and my secret high school crush, was mute.
Chapter Two
Dallas
I resisted the urge to check the bandana around my neck and put the truck in gear, not sparing my unwelcome guest a glance.
Nolan Grainger.
It just figured he’d be the one I’d run into tonight. I mean, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since I’d seen him a mere week ago, so why wouldn’t Fate decide to throw him into the mix tonight of all nights?
God, I fucking hated Fate. She was an ugly, cruel bitch that had been toying with me for years.
The cab was completely dark except for the lights coming from the dashboard, so it wasn’t enough for Nolan to see me, but I still saw him glancing my way every few seconds. I gave into the urge and reached up to make sure the bandana was still in place just in case there was enough light from the dashboard, and then promptly cursed myself for the move.
What was I trying to hide? He’d already seen my fucking neck.
Since I couldn’t tell him to knock it the fuck off, I shot him a dark look and hoped he’d get the message.
He did.
But for less than two minutes, and then he was doing it again.
“Um, thank you,” he stuttered. “For helping me, I mean.”
Silence, and then, “I really wasn’t looking forward to spending the night out here.”
I could practically hear the agitation rolling off him in waves. He was doing what most people did around me…though blessedly, there weren’t that many people I had to deal with anymore.
“I don’t know what happened. The car was fine earlier.”
I kept my eyes on the road as he rattled on about how he’d filled the car with gas and that it hadn’t been acting weird and on and on like that. I tried shooting him another look in the hopes he’d get the message that just because I couldn’t speak, didn’t mean he had to talk twice as much, but he was looking straight ahead.
I returned my eyes to the road. Luckily it was only a thirty-minute drive to Pelican Bay, and I was sure he’d run out of things to say in the next few minutes when he realized I wasn’t going to answer him.
It was something else people did. Since it took their minds a while to catch up to the fact that I really couldn’t speak, they habitually said things to me that required some kind of response. Then they’d catch themselves and fall silent or apologize, wait a minute or two, and then the pattern would repeat itself.
Unless they were from Pelican Bay.
Then it was a whole different game.
People from Pelican Bay didn’t speak to me.
At all.
They spoke about me because they seemed to think I’d lost my hearing in addition to my voice, but they never spoke directly to me unless it was absolutely necessary.
Which it rarely was, since I almost never went to Pelican Bay anymore and the people almost never came to me.
The exception was when one of them was brave enough to venture out to the center with an injured bird or orphaned nest of baby rabbits that needed help. That didn’t happen often since most people went to Doc Cleary and he brought me my new charges.
Fortunately, Doc Cleary wasn’t a talker, even when he was interacting with someone who could respond to him. So when he showed up at the center, he rattled off what kind of animal he’d brought me, what he’d treated it with if it was an ailment he could handle, and then he left.