Camden (The Henchmen MC 18)

I was sure there were exceptions. Deaf people surely occasionally settled down with the hearing. I was willing to wager, though, that it was more common that they settled down with someone who understood their struggles, who also went through a silent existence in a noisy world.

Not many women would be willing to figure out how to connect with someone like me.

Except, of course, for women like Annie.

Someone who seemed to so effortlessly go with the flow. Even if that tide made her lose her balance, stumble. It didn't seem to faze her much. She just rolled with it.

It had been something I obsessed over the first few days, when she was so eager to return my attempts to reach out to her.

Why.

Why would someone like her - sweet, bubbly, open, beautiful - would be so willing to spend all her time communicating with her neighbor.

I had thought it was almost, I don't know, pity. Or obligation. Since she'd thought I was deaf.

I was probably going to hell for playing along with that. But there were a thousand other reasons I would be going to hell, so, really, was that worth stressing over?

Then, when she had learned I had been hiding the truth from her for weeks, she had just fucking accepted it. No questions. No demands for an explanation I wasn't sure I could give her. I had no idea what she thought. Why she didn't think I could speak. Something I was born with. Some accident I had.

Surely she never could have guessed the truth.

That I could speak.

That I chose not to.

Despite how difficult it could make life at times.

I had to admit, I liked it better after she knew I could hear, when she just babbled on and on. She was a text babbler too, but it was clear that even during her texts, she had been holding back a bit.

If I wanted things to keep moving in the direction they seemed to be, well, I would have to get honest with her. About the stutter. About my history. Give her all the ugly, let her decide if she could throw some curtains and a coat of paint on it and call it livable.

But if she could?

Then, yeah, she was my girl.

At least I hoped.

I gave them a shrug.

A nothing gesture, but it had the two of them squealing - and these were not women prone to such things - and shooting off about a thousand questions in a single breath.

"Okay okay. I know," Liv said, shaking her head, regaining her composure. "This is too much. But what we really want to say is that we are really happy for you. And we hope she even comes close to deserving you."

Fuck if it wasn't the other way around.

People like Annie - all bright sunlight - didn't tend to settle down with overcast darkness like me. And the idea that some of me might rub off on her made my stomach twist painfully. I would end things before I let it come to that.

"And we expect a full rundown via text later today," Astrid agreed. "Now, I have to get going. I have a hen with a broken wing who needs to be reminded to take things easy. I will come see you soon, okay?" she said, reaching out to give my hand a squeeze. "And you can come visit me sometime too, you know," she added on her way out the door.

"Really, Cam, I am so happy for you. I know Navesink Bank hasn't been the same for you as it has been for Astrid and me. Don't try to object," she said when I tried to shake my head, even though it was true. "I know it. I see it. And I have been too in my own shit lately to reach out sooner. But I am so glad you have found some connection here, some roots. And I can't wait to meet her. Promise me you'll introduce me to her soon."

I gave her a small nod, knowing it wasn't really a promise I could keep since it wasn't only about me, but wanting to give her the reassurance that I would try.

"Okay. Good. I'm so excited. I have to take a trip to the doctor. Nope," she said, holding up a hand when my body lurched slightly. "I'm fine. I think I just have a stomach bug or something. I've been feeling off. I will text you after. I love you," she added, coming close to wrap her arms around me.

I chanced a look around, seeing no one near, leaned close to her ear, "L-l-l-ove y-y-ou, L-liv."

I had spoken a very small bit here and there over the years. To Liv. To Roan. To Reign when I first happened into the club. But it wasn't a daily thing. Or weekly. Or even monthly.