Tone Deaf(72)

“And that will work?”

She shrugs. “Jace already got all this to work. It shouldn’t be much trouble to get you in a proper home.” Then her smile grows, and she pulls her phone out of her back pocket. “Jace told me to show you this text as soon as I could.”

I snatch the phone from her and read the text on the screen: Even if I can’t love, I will love you. I’ve never been good at following rules—not even my own. I’m at the Austin airport, and I’ll be in LA in a few hours.

I hug the phone against my chest for a moment, and then hastily type out a message in response. I don’t even think about it; the words are just there, and I mean them. I love you, too.

Avery tackles me into another hug, and I squeeze her tightly back, letting out a happy squeal. I flash back to that first night I won the raffle prize, and how Avery and I had acted just like this. Only, this time, it’s different. Because this isn’t a moment of utter bliss. This is the start of an utterly blissful life.

We finally calm down a little, and Avery nods to the phone. There’s a new message from Jace on the screen: Serva me, servabo te.

“What does that mean?” Avery signs.

I smile down at the phone as I recognize the familiar motto. “Hope,” I sign, remembering what Jace once told me. “It means hope.”





EPILOGUE


EIGHT MONTHS LATER . . .

JACE

I STRUM THE final chord of the concert as the crowd breaks into wild applause. Over the past few months, Tone Deaf’s concerts have grown even larger. Some critics have attributed our success to all the gossip surrounding Ali and me. After the kidnapping charges against me were dropped, and Ali’s dad was convicted of child abuse, the media went absolutely nuts. I was proclaimed to be a hero, and Ali’s story was broadcasted everywhere.

But I know the truth: the increase in success doesn’t come from anything I did. All the credit goes to Ali and the incredible music she continues to write for Tone Deaf.

The crowd slowly quiets, and I hurry through my ending speech. After I say the last thank you and flash a smile, the applause starts up again, and I take it as our cue to leave. I stride off the stage with the rest of the band right behind me. Jon jogs to my side and raises his eyebrows. With a flick of his finger, he turns off his mic, and then says to me, “Excited much?”

“Ali said she’d be waiting backstage,” I say as I switch off my own mic.

“That’s no excuse to sprint away from your audience. You’re going to hurt their feelings, you know.”

I know he’s teasing, but I still jab him in the shoulder, and he just laughs and jabs me right back. We make it backstage, and the stage crew swarms us. I hear a few people congratulate me on playing a good concert, but I don’t really care how well I did. All my attention is on the gorgeous girl pushing her way through the crowd and toward me.

Ali tackles me into a hug, and I wrap my arms firmly around her. I’ve missed her. Sure, it’s only been two weeks since I last saw her, but it’s felt like an eternity. She tilts her head up to look at me, and I steal the opportunity for a kiss. Her lips are soft and warm against mine, and when we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard and grinning.

“I missed you,” I sign.

She blushes in that adorable way she has. “I missed you, too.”

The stage crew dissipates, giving us some room. I reach down and take both of Ali’s hands, giving each of them a small kiss. “How’s school?”

I didn’t think it was possible, but her expression brightens even more. “Amazing, as always.”

I laugh a little at her enthusiasm. I’ve never liked school much, but Ali is completely different. At Gallaudet University, she has an entire school that understands her deafness, and a huge community of students and teachers to support her. According to Ali, she’s no longer just deaf. Now she’s Deaf—part of a culture that embraces and respects her in a way she’s never experienced before.

I have to admit, I miss having her with me all the time. Now that she’s living at her campus in Washington, DC, I only get to see her on rare weekends like this one. Since I’m recording a new album, I’m almost always far away in Los Angeles. But it’s worth the pain of missing her to see her like this: happy and confident and not at all worried.

“How’s the album coming?” she asks, her eyes lighting with excitement. Ali helped me write most of the songs on my latest album, and now that we’ve entered the recording process, she wants constant updates.

I’m telling her about a song we’re struggling to get right when I hear Killer shriek, “Ali!” Of course, Ali doesn’t hear him, and she yelps in surprise as Killer leaps forward and tackles her into a hug. As soon as she realizes who it is, she starts chiding Killer at the same time she hugs him. Arrow and Jon step forward, and she hugs them, too.

I take a step back and watch as she easily banters with my bandmates, exchanging updates on all the things that have happened in the past couple of weeks. The topic moves back to the album, and they excitedly talk about it for the next minute. Then Ali turns to me and cocks her head, giving me a curious look.

“What are you so happy about?” she asks.

It’s only then that I realize I have a ridiculous grin on my face. I try to shake it away, but it stays right there. I shrug and sign, “You, I guess. And us.”