Page 3 of Interpreter

She signs the word “eat” again, and I sigh, noting how similar she is to her mother. Persistent as fuck.

“Fine.” I wiggle the cracker. “I’ll eat,” I say loudly, knowing her mother can hear me from her position behind the door. I don’t need to guess. I know Anniston didn’t send in her daughter without listening for what information Aspen could pull out of me. Like my state of mind.

Anniston is relentless when she wants us to do something. So whenever she can’t get her way, she sends in Aspen. She’s been mine and the guys’ kryptonite for the past year. How one little girl can single-handedly bring down a house full of Marines is beyond me.

But it happens.

Just like now.

It’s not like Anniston hasn’t been able to run this foundation by herself for the past four years. But ever since Breck married Cade and Bianca started dating Hayes, she’s found additional allies to support her reign. Together, the women of this house rule with an iron fist and some well-placed pouts. And Aspen… well, she fits right in with their cause. I think women are just born with the instincts that can bring a man down, no matter how hard he thinks he is. Not that I’m complaining. I love living here at the McCallister-Jameson Foundation. The food is great, and Anniston and the others have become my family.

It’s just…

How long will it last? Everyone leaves at some point.

A few years ago, we all wondered if our time here with Anniston and this foundation would end once she married Theo. When it didn’t, we held our breath until the next milestone: the birth of Aspen. We should have known Anniston would never abandon the five of us. Hell, we had been living with her for four years.

She found Cade first, offering him a place to stay when she was living alone and Theo was playing for the Washington Saints baseball team. Cade’s arrival sent Theo through the roof, to say the least, but eventually he accepted her passion—not really—and endured it until she found Hayes, Mason, Vic, and me in a soup kitchen.

All of us were homeless until Anniston came along and changed our lives. She gave us hope. She gave us shelter. And ultimately, even if we didn’t want one, she gave us a family—though we tried like hell not to get attached.

Four years later, I had hope.

I had options.

But not today.

Today, I have no hope.

I’m officially deaf.

Even though I knew it was coming, it still hit me like a Mack truck. No warning. No farewell. Just me sitting on my bed, strumming my guitar until everything just went silent. No epic moment. Just silence.

And I fucking loathe it.

Aspen taps my hand and pulls my arm, silently telling me she’s coming in for a snuggle, whether I want one or not. Sighing, I calm the storm in my head and try to act like everything is okay—for her sake. At least for a few hours until Anniston takes her to bed.

At some point we both fall asleep, and I wake when the bed shifts. I grab for Aspen, praying she didn’t roll off the bed, but a hand covers mine.

“She’s fine,” signs Anniston, her smile strained.

I look next to me just to verify Aspen is okay before nodding and sitting up.

“Breck made you something to eat,” she says, and it kills me I can no longer catch the tone of her voice. I can only read her lips, a trade I’ve perfected over the years as my hearing waned. I swipe a hand through my hair and sigh. She won’t go away unless I eat or talk. Right now, I’d rather eat and buy myself a little more time.

“Tell her thank you,” I grumble, but I can’t hear how it sounds. I wonder if my voice will soon sound like my mother’s.

“Does it sound different?” I ask, wanting to look away but can’t because I won’t be able to see her sign.

For the past three years, I’ve been afraid that my voice was changing. I stopped talking as much and started signing more around my family. Some days they let me get away with it, and other days, they flat-out demand I speak to them.

“No,” her lips mouth. “It sounds just as perfect and sexy as it always has.”

I scoff, knowing damn well she is lying. But when she cocks a brow as if asking,“Are you calling me a liar?”I straighten up and take the plate of food off my bedside table.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

I mean it. I’ve been a grade-A asshole since this morning, and it’s not her fault. If anything, Anniston and the rest of my family have been very patient with me. Way more than I deserve.

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