Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(68)

“Eliza!” I shouted as if she could somehow make my voice work again.

I watched her tongue touch her teeth at what I knew to be the “11” at the end of my name, but she couldn’t talk either.

It’s a nightmare. It has to be.

“Doodle, are you okay?” I shouted as loud as I could, hoping to break through whatever unknown force was compressing the sound.

With a painful flinch, she covered my mouth with the palm of her hand. Her lips moved with powerful words, none of which made it to my ears.

I shook her hand off my mouth. “I can’t talk!” I yelled, scrambling off the bed. I knocked over damn near everything in my frantic escape, but I didn’t still until my ass was against the wall.

Fisting a hand into my hair, I watched the tears fall from her eyes as she mouthed what I decided was the word “stop” over and over again.

She climbed over the bed and snatched a sketchpad off the nightstand, quickly scrawling a message that would effectively end my life as I knew it.

I can hear you. Calm down.

The weight of such simple words was indescribable.



His eyes were feral. Every single muscle on his body was taut, and the confusion was only slightly less painful than the utter destruction that crumbled his otherwise strong body the second he read my words.

“It’s okay.” My voice cracked as I slowly approached the skittish man I recognized as my rock. I wiped my tears away because I knew they would do no good. He didn’t need those. He needed me.

He blinked rapidly as I soothed him with words he couldn’t hear.

“Eliza?” he questioned loudly once more as realization sank in, causing tears to build in his eyes.

“Shh.” I placed a finger over my mouth. It trembled wildly even though I desperately tried to keep it still. I didn’t want him to see my anxiety, but I broke into sobs when he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me against his chest.

Somehow, Till was suddenly deaf—and comforting me.

“Is everything okay?” Flint called from outside our door.

Stepping away, I dried my eyes and threw a pair of pants in Till’s direction. “Get dressed,” I told him before remembering that it was worthless. Then I grabbed the sketchpad off the floor.

Get dressed. We’re going to the hospital.

“Eliza?” Flint said as he knocked.

“Yeah. Everything’s good,” I answered, pulling on my own clothes then opening the door.

“I heard Till yelling. Are you okay?” He looked around me to catch a glimpse of his brother, who was nervously fumbling with his shirt. His hands were shaking so violently that he couldn’t quite pull it on. “What’s wrong?”

Backing him out of the room, I whispered, “Listen, I have to take Till to the hospital. I need you to keep an eye on Q and call Slate for me.”

He took a frightened step away. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Um . . .” I stalled, trying to figure out what to say, but in the end, there was only one answer. “He can’t hear anything. It’s gonna be fine though. We just need to get him to a doctor.”

“He can’t hear anything?” Quarry asked in shock as he rounded the corner out of his room.

“Shit,” I mumbled to myself.

Telling Flint was one thing. Quarry was something totally different.

“I don’t know yet. It doesn’t seem like it. Just call Slate. Tell him what’s going on.” I backed into the room and grabbed Till’s hand.

His eyes were all over the place, but as we walked past the boys, he still managed to recognize Quarry’s anxiety. He stopped long enough to lick his finger and stick it in Quarry’s ear. His halfhearted attempt at teasing did nothing to quell his brother’s fears. Quarry’s chin quivered as he turned and marched away.



I drove to the hospital with my hand anchored on Till’s thigh. Not a force in the world could have torn it away. It wasn’t a possessive gesture like I had seen Till do so many times before. No. It was a plain and simple connection of love, and we both needed it.

Hand in hand, we were ushered to the back of the emergency room almost immediately. He sat on a stiff hospital bed with his head hung low. We had no idea what was going on, but I knew Till. I was positive he had entirely too many worst-case scenarios floating through his head. He needed a distraction. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out a notepad and pen.

Crawling into his lap, I kissed every inch of his face that my lips could reach. His chest heaved, but not in the sexual way I was accustomed to. Till was fighting back his own emotions. He didn’t need me to witness that.

So I started drawing.

It wasn’t much. Just a stick figure climbing through a window. But it seemed to help. I drew a woman on the other side and gave her huge boobs. Till looked up then, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. After snatching the pencil from my hand, he added a freckle under her right breast. I laughed, and his eyes snapped to mine. His gaze flashed to my mouth as he swallowed hard. But he eventually lost the battle.

Burying his face in my neck, Till lost it completely. He clung to me as his shoulders shook. I couldn’t tell if any tears actually fell from his eyes, but his body was being ravaged. He would never admit it, but I thought he was more scared than upset. I felt helpless, but I held him as tight as possible and whispered encouraging words that would never be heard—those were for me.