Tone Deaf(59)

JACE


I SOFTLY HIT my forehead against the refrigerator door, not so hard it hurts, but enough to jar the unsettling thoughts trying to latch onto my mind. Hitting my head isn’t the most practical way to fetch a water bottle, which was my original intent when I walked into the kitchen, but my stomach is too upset to drink anything, and my brain feels like it’s about to explode. Which might be because I just smacked it against a very dense refrigerator. But no, that’s not it, not really. It’s because I just said what has got to be the dumbest sentence ever uttered.

“Because you love him.”

Why the hell did I say that in front of Ali? I thought I wanted to keep her, for her to be with me for longer than just awhile. But, apparently, my stupid mouth has different ideas. Sure, all I said was the truth: Arrow has Killer because he loves him, and because they love each other. And, yeah, that’s all I meant to say. But instead, I said so much more. I practically screamed it, and even if Ali doesn’t understand now, she’ll get it later.

Love is what keeps relationships going. And I can’t love. That part of me died off a long time ago, and I doubt anything could resuscitate it.

So where does that leave Ali and me?

As if reading my mind, I feel a soft hand rest on my shoulder. I flinch, partially because she scared me, and partially because her touch scares me. It makes my heart race, and my skin grow warm, and my breathing come faster. And nobody should be able to control me that easily . . . right?

“You look like you’re going to be sick,” Ali says softly.

I whirl around and sign, “I’m never going to love you.”

Her eyes grow wide and she slowly backs away. Tears spring into her eyes faster than I thought possible. But they’re quickly masked by a look of anger, and she grits her teeth and glares right at me.

Shit. All I meant was to give her a fair warning, but instead I just did exactly what I said I promised not to. I hurt her.

“Don’t take it like that,” I sign. “Please don’t take it like that.”

She lets out a harsh laugh. “How else am I supposed to take it? There are subtler ways to tell a girl to back off, you know.”

I rush toward her, wanting her in my arms, but she sidesteps my embrace and just keeps glaring at me. I stare up at the ceiling, down at the floor, out the window. Anywhere to escape that glare, the evidence that I’ve hurt her.

“Ali . . .” A single tear drips down her cheek, and I switch back to sign language, knowing her watering eyes will make it hard to read my lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She scoffs and starts walking out of the kitchen. I leap forward and grab her elbow, stopping her. For once, she doesn’t look scared of me, even though my grasp is desperate. Instead, she looks furious.

I swallow hard and let go, launching back into sign language. I estimate I have about three, maybe four seconds before she walks right out that door and doesn’t come back.

“Look, Ali, my life is pain. It hurts and it sucks and nothing can change what it is. Not even you.”

I see her eyes narrow even more. Every bit of instinct in me screams that I should get ready to defend myself, but I don’t. This is Ali, and she’d never lash out at me, no matter how angry she gets.

“Every time I look at you, I realize that I really don’t deserve you,” I sign. “And that’s more painful than anything.”

Another tear trickles down her cheek, and I gently kiss it away. Her sorrow tastes salty and slightly metallic. “But here’s the thing,” I sign. “You’re the best kind of pain I’ve ever felt. I’ve always worked so hard to avoid pain, but as much as you hurt, I don’t want to leave you.”

She looks a little shocked, and I get the feeling she never expected me to say anything so openly. I didn’t, either. And if I didn’t care about her so much, I never would have.

Her serious gaze settles on my eyes and stays there. Maybe she sees the desperation I’m feeling, or the sadness. Or maybe there’s nothing in my eyes; they’re supposed to be the window to the soul, and I’m pretty sure my soul died off a long time ago.

Whatever she sees, it makes her tears stop. Then she raises her hands and signs, “Then you don’t have to leave. Not as long as you keep caring about me. Because you do care, even if you hate to admit it.”

Her gaze flicks back to my lips, and for a moment, I think she’s waiting for me to respond. But then she throws herself into my arms and kisses me.

Finally. That’s the only word running through my head as I kiss her back. Maybe not the most romantic sentiment, but I can’t help it. All those times we’ve kissed, she’s felt so hesitant. Now she’s just as desperate as I am, and her lips are sweet and incredible.

When she pulls away, we’re both breathing hard. Ali reaches up and wipes away the last of her tears. I kiss her forehead and brush my fingertip over the hesitant smile on her lips, relieved to see it back.

“I have to get over to Killer’s,” she signs, taking a step toward the door.

I let out a small breath of relief. Ali seems to sense that I can only handle so many emotions at once. As good as it feels to get all this off my chest, I’m glad she’s not going to draw out this conversation any longer. I need time to process my muddled thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sign back uncertainly. “He’ll worry if you’re late.”