Page 32 of Unspoken Love

“That looked to be a great deal more than just slight. You’re as white as a ghost.” His eyes ran over her face and noticed that her eyes were glued to his mouth. Could she hear him now? Was she back to reading lips? Why was she tolerating the pain? How much was she really in? He figured that keeping her blood pressure low would help keep the pain away. “I pushed you too hard today,” he said when she didn’t reply.

“No.” She started to move her head but then stilled. “No, really, I enjoyed it.”

He thought about how he could keep her from working tomorrow, but she interrupted his thoughts.

“Don’t you dare sideline me,” she warned, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Honest, I’m fine. I’ve been dealing with this for a while now.”

“Right.” He was one-hundred-percent sure that she was currently reading his lips and frowned. “How bad is it?” he signed to her.

She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders. “It’s worth the pain,” she responded in sign language. “My hearing will come back as soon as the buzzing stops.” Her eyes landed on his. He could see stubbornness behind the pain there. “To be able to hear, it’s worth it,” she said clearly.

He couldn’t imagine a silent world. Not hearing everything around him.

“Faye,” he started, but she shook her head and stood up.

“See, all better now.” She turned away and easily jumped up into the doorway. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Now, come check my work.” She held out a hand for him.

He wanted to talk to her more, but he could tell she wasn’t in the mood. Later, he told himself.

“Sure,” he said. He took her hand and climbed up into the doorway.

They headed inside and he paused in the entryway, struck by how different it all looked now.

The smell of paint was overwhelming, though, and he would have to sleep with all the windows open for at least one night. Still, the walls were clean and bright. The soft beige undertones in the living room, kitchen, and dining room would make the hardwood floors pop. The master bedroom had a hint of blue to it while the other two bedrooms were a soft gray, almost white.

Once the light could pour in through the new windows, it would bounce off the freshly painted surfaces, giving the whole place a glowing warmth.

It was going to be perfect.

Faye stood in the middle of the kitchen, her hair frizzed slightly from humidity and her arms smudged with specks of paint. There was even a smear of it on her collarbone.

The paleness from before was gone, as was the pain behind her eyes. Whatever had happened before, she was over it.

Then she looked up at him and smiled like she belonged right there.

And it hit him in the chest.

Not just the sight of her—but the feelings that she caused in him. He’d never felt anything like it before.

This wasn’t just a house anymore.

Not to him.

This was where they belonged.

He picked up a cleaning rag and slowly lifted it to her cheek. He wiped her cheek softly. “You’ve got paint, right here.”

She held still, her eyes never leaving his as he cleaned her soft skin.

“Faye,” he said as she leaned into him. Before he could say anything else, she was kissing him.

His hands moved into her hair, pulling her closer so he could take what he wanted, what he needed.

She was everything. Soft. Sweet. Sexy.

And he was…

Dirty. Stinky. Sweaty.