Page 97 of The Voice We Find

“Okay, okay. I think we all get the picture.” He rolls his eyes and then turns to steady me between his strong hands. “The pointis,we did it. We earned our bonuses and then some, and perhaps even better than that, Fog Harbor wants to negotiate more originals with us in the new year so hashtag Augie can grow in popularity.”

“Really? Oh, August!” I throw my arms around his neck in an affectionate embrace, not caring that his baby sister is only a foot away. She seems just as thrilled for us as we are. “That’s the absolute best news ever!”

“It’s pretty darn close to it, but I think Gabby’s cookie has ours beat,” he whispers before he gently lets me go and then touches his sister’s shoulder. “You’re next.”

Gabby sets her phone on the table face up, where my professional headshot is side-by-side with one of August in a wet suit next to a surfboard.

“What?” he all but shouts. “Where are they even finding these? That picture has to be at least five years old.”

“Internet pics live forever,” I tsk.

He shudders, and I stifle another laugh as Gabby leans down to open her lid.

Unlike mine, Gabby’s cookie pizza appears to be a hundred percent one flavor—white chocolate chip macadamia. And also unlike mine, her white piped icing spells out a date: December 29th.

As soon as she looks to him for an explanation, a slow-searing dread begins to crawl up my spine.

He steps toward her. “I found a surgeon who can help you. She’s already reviewed your scans and read all your medical reports, and...” He touches her shoulders and swallows the crack of emotion in his voice. “And she thinks she can repair the hearing in your left ear with a new procedure she’s developed. You’re scheduled for a consultation with her on December 29th at ten a.m. Her staff thinks they can get you in for surgery in February. Right before your birthday.”

Gabby stays frozen, speechless, for some time, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s struggling to understand him or if—

“You’ve been talking to a surgeon about me?” Her question comes out flat and stilted, causing the dread in my core to enter my limbs.

“Yes,” August confirms. “I found her a little over a year ago—Dr. Johnston—but I had to secure the funds before I scheduled anything. The surgery isn’t covered by insurance yet.”

Her eyes narrow, and she steps out of his hold, nearly falling as the backs of her knees bump against the bench seat under the table.

“Why not?” she asks. “Why isn’t it covered?”

“Because it’s...” August’s pause makes me think he’s considering his word choice carefully. “New.”

Her breathing grows as rapid as her blinking. “Like an experiment?”

He says nothing to this, probably because there’s no better terminology than the one she just used. And by the way her nostrils flare and her fingers ball into fists at her sides, it’s the wrong one.

“I am not broken.” The fierceness of her voice causes me physical pain, and August flinches.

“I’ve never once said you were broken.”

“But you think it all the time, don’t you? You can’t stand that I’m D-E-A-F.” She fingerspells each letter in ASL, and my stomach rolls with nausea at the sight of her hurt.Oh, August, this was not the way to do this.

I place a hand on Gabby’s upper back in hopes of de-escalating a conversation that, if left to its own devices, could spiral wildly out of control. Her heavy gaze meets mine and practically begs me to intervene on her behalf, to help her brother understand, but then her expression falls slack. “Did you know about this? Did you know what he was planning for me behind my back?”

Despite it being ages ago when August first mentioned another surgery as an option, I can’t claim ignorance. Although, I so wish August would have discussed this with me before springing it on her. So much of my understanding of Gabby’s situation, of her intimate thoughts and overall vision for her life, became clear when I listened to her voice memos. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that surgery is not what she wants.

“Did you?” she repeats a bit weaker now.

My chest squeezes at the note of betrayal in her tone. “I knowyour brother is hopeful that your hearing might be fully restored some day.” Softly, I touch her cheek in hopes my words might reach her heart. “Because he loves you very much and wants the best for you.”

Immediately, her eyes glaze with unshed tears, and when she speaks again, her voice is small. “I thought you understood me.”

“I do, or at least, I think I do now,” I fight to reassure her as I blink back tears of my own. I’d wrap my arms around her if it didn’t mean compromising our communication. Instead, I make sure she can see me clearly when I say, “And if this is not what you want, then—”

“Of course it’s what she wants,” August cuts in, and both Gabby and I shift our attention to her big brother. “Doctor Johnston’s success rate is nearly seventy percent. She thinks you have a promising case. We can discuss all your concerns with her at the consultation.”

Gabby’s laugh is dark and far from compliant. “My concerns?” She slashes her pointer finger through her hair above her left ear. “It’s notyourhead she’ll be experimenting on. I’ve already had brain surgery, remember? I’m not doing it again. I’m fine with the way I am, and so are the people who actually love and accept me!”

“And who’s that?” he challenges coldly. “Tyler?”

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