Broken Ride (Men of Valor MC)
“Okay, Mom, don’t embarrass me now.”
…
Once on campus, I drove to the building where the workshop was and parked. I went through my backpack making sure my books and water and granola bar and Red Bull were all present to get me through the rest of my day. I wouldn’t have time between classes to go home and refuel. I’d eat something from the Café cart and then starve until I got home. If Claire and Malcolm ate before me, they’d leave me a warm plate in the oven and a yellow post-it note on the back door. As I locked my car door and swung my backpack over my shoulder, I thought about how far I’d come and how incredibly lucky I was to have parents who cared about me. Just a few short years ago, I’d been completely alone and on the streets. If Malcolm hadn’t come along and rescued me, I might be there still, fighting tooth and nail to survive, unable to even imagine a future other than the reality of what I was living. Three years later and I had a beautiful home, a car, and two wonderful people who loved me so unconditionally they’d adopted me the year before I turned eighteen. I knew I was an anomaly—one of the lucky ones. Most stories that started out like mine didn’t have happy endings.
When I got to the auditorium I slipped into a random seat in the middle. There was a fair sized crowd and it looked like the teaching panel consisted of two teachers and two ASL interpreters to translate for the hearing impaired. I, of course, had my personal reasons for wanting to learn ASL, but in addition to my gigantic crush on Patriot, I had career interests too. I was a biological sciences major because I wanted to go to med school. I had my heart set on becoming a pediatrician ever since an education became a real option for me. I didn’t know a lot about deafness or hearing impairment, how it happened, how it was treated, if it was permanent in all cases. I wanted to know those things. What if it was genetic, that was probably a good place to start. Understanding Patriots disability meant a whole lot to me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket just as they were turning down the lights. I took it out to see a text from the man on my mind.
“I hope I didn’t mess up last night by taking things too far. You mean the world to me Sky and I want to do things right.”
I set down the phone and smiled in the darkness as the presentation started with a video.
…
Two hours later, I left the auditorium with a lot on my mind. There were so many signs in my head and two new heavy books in my backpack to study at home. My big takeaway on the somewhat more medical end of hearing impairment, was that Patriot was probably born hearing and learned to speak with his hearing intact. The deafness came later from any myriad causes; a virus, nerve damage, or even from extended exposure to really loud sounds. But because his voice wasn’t affected and he had no issues with pronunciation. The one possibility I hated the most was the same one that I imagined to be the most likely cause for Patriot’s hearing loss, was a blow or repeated blows to the head that damaged the mechanism of his inner ear. Dex could have lost his hearing from violence. I shuddered at the thought and sat down on a bench to eat my granola bar and text him back before I ran to my next class.
Dex: I’m at the courthouse trying to catch Rough for a quick lunch. Wish me luck. From one overprotective bastard to another, your dad is going to cut my fucking nuts off.
I laughed out loud at Dex’s nerves. A guy who projected so much strength and wasn’t afraid of the most dangerous criminals, was reduced to a puddle of nerves when it came to confronting Malcolm Miller. I was pretty sure Dex could take Malcolm, not just by strength but by lack of any self-preservation whatsoever. Rough had more to lose and so he had to conduct himself with restraint. He wouldn’t kill Dex, he loved and admired him. If Malcolm said no to Dex, he’d never say yes to anyone. Up until two days ago, that had been my plan too. But now here I was, learning a new language and imagining more milestones that, just a few years ago, I’d never dreamed of having.
Chapter 7
Patriot
Malcolm was in a hurry, pretty much like he always was these days. I had to jog to keep up with him while he talked on the phone asking for dockets to be brought up to the courtroom and calling for motions to be filed and a whole slew of other legal jargon. He directed me to a fancy coffee shop with a folder he was holding, still barking into the phone. I was hoping for a pub or a dive bar, my cut would bring unwanted stares from the public in a fancy joint this close to the criminal courthouse. Rough was oblivious as he’d been moving with ease between these two worlds for a decade.