Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15)(5)

“We’ll just be next door.” I brush off her concern.

Ryan holds the door open for me and we step out into the street. Suddenly a bike messenger blasts past me, and Ryan grabs me and pulls me against him. He holds me there until I’m steady, and I can feel his heart pounding.

After a moment, he sets me back. He asks me if I’m okay, with an arch to his brow. I nod. He opens the door to the deli next door and motions for me to precede him. We sit down at a table and suddenly he flinches.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He points to the corner where a girl is locking lips with a guy. “My ex is here,” he says.

I look at them. “How long has she been an ex?”

“Since two weeks ago.”

Okay, that’s…recent. “You don’t look heartbroken.”

He shakes his head. “Nope. Happy.”

“Should we leave? I mean…is this too awkward?”

He draws his piercing into his mouth and then signs, “If she comes over here, just pretend you don’t speak sign language.”

“But I do.”

“But you can hear. She won’t understand why I’m with you.”

“I don’t understand either.”

His brow furrows like he’s thinking. “Deaf people think deaf. It’s different for hearing people who learn sign language. Culturally, we’re not the same.”

“So she wouldn’t like me because I can hear?”

“She wouldn’t dislike you. But she would definitely question the relationship.”

“Interesting.”

He smiles and shrugs.

“So…you’ve never dated a girl who can hear?”

He shakes his head, and then looks down at the menu the waitress leaves.

I tap the table in front of him. I’m annoyed and I’m trying to bite it back. I don’t say what I was about to say, because it wasn’t terribly kind.

“What?” he asks. He must see the look on my face.

“Nothing.”

“It’s something.”

“No, it’s not.” This time, it’s me who stares down at the menu. He pulls it out of my hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t understand why you can’t have hearing friends.”

His mouth falls open in mock shock. “I have plenty of hearing friends.”

“But you couldn’t take a hearing girl home to meet your mother.” I watch him closely, looking for subtle clues about how my prying makes him feel.

“It would be a challenge.”

“Why?”

“Hearing people sometimes look down on deaf people.”

“I’m not looking down on you.”

He nods and holds up a finger to stop my tirade. “You might not be, but some hearing people do.”

“So, you’re judging a whole group of people by the actions of a few? Are you serious?”

“Why are we discussing this?” he asks.

Because I found it confusing? A change of subject might be a good idea at this point.

“You like working for the Reeds?” The Reeds are some of the nicest people I have ever met.

“It’s great. I get to be the token deaf guy.”

“What?”

“That’s why I was hired. Logan was traveling a lot with Emily, and now that she’s pregnant again, they needed someone to take his place on the reality TV show.” He points to himself. “Enter the token deaf guy.”

“That’s what you think?”

He shakes his head. “That’s what they told me.”

That makes me sad. He’s a talented artist. He’s really good at what he does.

Suddenly, someone in the restaurant shouts, “Oh my God! She’s a Zero!”

“Oh shit,” I breathe. I look around, searching for an escape route. When I can’t find one, I pull the baseball cap off Ryan’s head and jam it down on my own, and then I run out the door.





Ryan

She just stole my f*cking baseball cap.

I jump up to follow her, having no idea why she took my cap. A group of teenagers races out the door right in front of me, and I see her look back, spot them, and then her eyes go wide and she picks up the pace. They cut her off so she can’t go back to the tattoo shop. She goes in the other direction.

I’ll never catch her at this rate, not with them between me and her, and I really want my cap back. My grandfather gave me that cap. It was the last thing he ever gave me. He bought it when we were at a New York Skyscrapers’ football game. My biggest fear isn’t that she’ll steal it, because I could easily find out where she lives; it’s that she’ll lose it in her mad dash to stay ahead of the mob. There’s also my fear that she’ll get hurt.

I dodge around the edge of the group, which is now running full-out. They are quickly gaining on her, so I jump over a fire hydrant and chase after her. I would love to call out to her, but I doubt she would hear me.

Finally, I pull up beside her and she doesn’t stop to look at me. Someone reaches for the back of her shirt, and I shove him back. She looks at me, begging me silently to help her. I take her hand in mine and give it a jerk, pulling her into the front of an establishment I’m familiar with. I worked there as a busboy for quite a few years. We go in the front door and I pull her toward the back. She looks at me with questions and gratitude in her eyes, and she doesn’t let my hand go.