From War to Forever

by Andria Large

  I frown at his words. Tucker can get surgery to fix his hearing? What the fuck?

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying he has the option to get it fixed?” I ask.

  “Yeah, the doctors told him back when it happened that they could make it so he can mostly hear again. It wouldn’t be perfect, but he’d be able to hear. But he’s refused to do it. Says the least he can do is live with it since Chuck died saving him. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

  I lift my eyes to meet Tucker’s curious gaze. “So am I. I was under the impression it was permanent.”

  “Shiiit, I didn’t mean to cause problems between you two.” He sighs.

  “I’ll make sure he texts you back,” I say, anger creeping into my tone.

  “Dennis, are you okay?” Duke asks.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Liar. I can hear it in your voice. Listen, he thinks he’s doing the right thing. Thinks he’s somehow making up for losing Chuck. Don’t get angry with him about it. It will only make him defensive.”

  I take a deep breath and try to calm my anger. “You’re right.”

  “Always, my man, get used to it.” He snickers.

  “Prick.”

  “Asshat.”

  “I’d love to name-call all day, but I should go.”

  “All right. Remember what I said.”

  “I will,” I murmur.

  We hang up, and I shove the phone back in my pocket. I sit in the chair, looking anywhere but at Tucker, because I can still feel the anger pumping through my veins. He could get his hearing fixed, and he never told me. This is huge. How could he have kept this from me? And why the fuck wouldn’t he want to be able to hear?

  TUCKER

  DENNIS SEEMS pissed after talking on the phone to whoever it was. And if this doctor weren’t stitching up my head, I’d ask him what is going on. At one point in the conversation, he glanced at me, and it looked like he was mad at me. I have no idea what I could have done to make him angry when I’ve been sitting in a hospital bed for the past three or so hours. After Dennis hangs up, he seems to be avoiding looking in my direction. What the fuck is going on? Who the hell was he talking to? I obviously couldn’t hear the conversation, and my sight is too fuzzy to read his lips. I only understood a word here and there, but that didn’t give me any clue as to what he was talking about.

  The doctor finishes stitching me up, then dresses the wound with gauze. He leaves, and the nurse assisting him cleans up. She finishes a couple of minutes later, leaving me alone with a brooding Dennis. I wait to see if he’s going to say anything, but he doesn’t. He’s sitting in the chair in the corner of the room, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched tight as he stares out the window.

  “Who was on the phone?” I ask, unable to stand the silence anymore.

  Without looking at me, he signs, “Duke.”

  I frown. “Is he okay?”

  “He texted you a few times and got concerned when you didn’t respond,” he signs.

  “Okay. That doesn’t explain why you seem pissed off, though,” I say, throwing it out there.

  Dennis finally glances in my direction. I frown even harder when I see disappointment and something close to betrayal in his eyes.

  “Were you ever going to tell me it’s possible to get your hearing fixed?” he signs, his hands moving quickly and angrily.

  I sigh and close my eyes. Dammit. Duke must have let that one fly. Not that I told him to keep it a secret or anything, but it probably would have gone over better if Dennis had heard it from me. I open my eyes to find Dennis staring at me expectantly.

  “Well? Were you?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmur.

  He flinches as if I just slapped him. “You don’t know?” he signs and narrows his eyes at me. “Why the hell would you keep this from me?”

  “Because I’ve already made up my mind about it. There is nothing to talk about.” I shrug.

  “Today could have been completely avoided!” he signs furiously, shooting to his feet. “You would have heard my father come in and could have defended yourself!”

  “I’ve been deaf for four years now, and this is the first incident. I think I’m doing pretty well,” I say defensively.

  Dennis’s jaw works back and forth before he turns and paces away, shoving a hand through his dark hair. He turns back toward me.

  “That’s not the point. You don’t need to be deaf! You can get your hearing back. Aren’t you even a little curious as to what I sound like?”

  “Of course I am, Dennis, but this is my burden I’ve been given to carry, and I’ve accepted that and have no plans on changing it,” I say firmly.

  “You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” he signs, his lips pursed tightly in anger, his brows deeply furrowed.

  I blink in shock. “What? How am I a hypocrite?”

  “I need to get over Zara, right? I need to move on with my life, right? You told me this a few times. Well, guess fucking what? You need to get over Chuck. Yeah, that’s right, fucker, you heard me!” he bellows when I flinch at his words. He’s not signing anymore either. Luckily my vision is clear enough at the moment that I can read his lips and see how furious he is.

  A nurse opens the door and peeks in. “Is everything okay in here?”

  Dennis’s face goes hard and cold. “Everything is fine. I was just leaving,” he says to her but is still staring at me.

  He storms out before I even have the chance to register that he said he was leaving. The nurse comes into the room and takes a look at my bandage and asks me a couple of simple questions, like if I remember what year it is. I answer, having to take my eyes off the door Dennis just walked out of. The nurse finally leaves, which means I’m alone. Fuck. I rub my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. Dennis is right, isn’t he? I am a hypocrite. If I was over Chuck’s death, then I probably would be able to hear right now. Instead, I’ve convinced myself I’m doing some kind of penance by not getting my hearing fixed.

  Chapter Eight

  TUCKER

  THE NEXT morning, I have the nurse call my job, explain to them what happened, and tell them I won’t be in today. Then I ask her to call Dennis to come pick me up because I’m being released. I don’t have my cell phone with me, so I can’t text him. I’m not sure if he’s even going to show, but I’m hoping he will. If not, I’ll have to find someone else to come and get me, which I hope I don’t have to do.

  I’m sitting on the bed, back in my jeans that I was wearing yesterday. Luckily they were spared, unlike my shirt, which has been trashed because it was soaked in blood. These are my favorite pair of jeans; I’ve had them forever, and they are nicely broken in. I would have been upset if I had to get rid of them.

  I watch the TV while I wait. The afternoon news is on. I’m reading the words scrolling across the screen, but I’m not retaining any of it. All I can think about is whether Dennis will come. How long should I give him? An hour? Damn, I seriously hope I didn’t just fuck up everything between us.

  Movement catches my eye, and I look toward the door, which is opening. In walks a sullen Dennis, one hand shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, the other holding a T-shirt by his side. I stand, my heart thundering as I watch him come toward me. His green eyes meet mine, a mix of emotions swirling in their depths. I open my mouth to apologize, but he shakes his head.

  “Don’t,” his lips say as he tosses me the shirt.

  I catch it.

  “Dennis…,” I start, but he stops me with one hard look.

  “I said don’t. Get dressed so we can go.”

  Once again, I wish I knew what his voice sounds like so I could get a read on his mood. Right now, he seems very closed off, and I can’t tell if he’s still mad or hurt or both. I tug my shirt on and grab my wallet off the tray. That was all I had with me when I showed up here yesterday. I also take my discharge papers and aftercare instructions. Dennis turns and walks out the door, leaving me to follow.

  We le
ave the hospital and get into Dennis’s car. I don’t bother trying to talk to him on the ride because he’s obviously not ready to talk. When we get home, I head right to the bathroom to take a shower. I feel disgusting. I’m pretty sure I still have dried blood in my hair. Dennis doesn’t say a word to me and goes and sits on the couch, then turns on the TV.

  After my shower, I go to my room to get dressed. While there, I grab my phone from my nightstand and check my texts from Duke. He was telling me Aimee was out of the house and the divorce papers were filed. Everything went smoothly. He confronted her with his evidence, and she broke down but pleaded with him not to tell her family. He gave her his conditions, and she accepted. I’m glad that worked out fairly well for him. The sooner the divorce goes through, the sooner Duke can move on with his life.

  I need to talk to him. I need to know how he feels about me not getting my hearing fixed. He always went along with whatever I said, never argued with me, but I need to know what he really thinks. I have a feeling he’s been agreeing with me because he thinks it’s what I need from him. I shoot him a text.

  You busy?

  He replies a minute later. Hey man! Are you doing okay? Dennis told me what happened.

  Yeah, I’m fine. I gotta ask you something and I want you to be straight with me.

  Well, how straight? Because you are kinda gay now.

  I can’t help but laugh because that was funny. LMAO! I’m serious! I want an honest answer from you.

  You got it, bud. What’s up?

  How do you feel about me not getting my hearing fixed?

  Duke doesn’t answer for a good minute.

  Duke? You still there?

  Yeah….

  Well? Are you going to answer?

  Tuck… does it really matter how I feel about it?

  Yes! You know better than anyone how I lost it and why I chose to stay this way! Tell me!

  Another minute of nothing….

  Chuck is dead. He’s never coming back. I don’t think he would want you to remain deaf if he were still alive. Just because he’s dead shouldn’t change that. And if you want me to be honest, I hate it. I HATE that you won’t get it fixed. I want you to be whole like you were before it happened. I NEED you to be whole, for fuck’s sake! I need to know that at least one of us came out of that god-awful country with a chance at a normal life!

  I sit there, reading and rereading what he wrote in stunned silence.

  Why didn’t you tell me?

  I was hoping that you would come to your senses on your own, but here you are, four years later, still unable to hear. I just never had the heart to say anything because it was your way of coping.

  Well, shit.

  I’m sorry….

  Don’t be sorry! Thank you for telling me.

  Did Dennis freak on you?

  Yes. He’s not talking to me right now.

  Dammit. I didn’t mean to cause shit.

  It’s fine. He would have found out sooner or later.

  Is there anything I can do?

  No, we’ll work it out.

  Okay, just let me know if you need me to come there and beat his ass.

  I chuckle and shake my head.

  Yeah, yeah.

  Deaf or not, you’re still my brother and I love you.

  I know. I love you too, Dukey-poo.

  Listen, Fruitcake, I was trying to have a moment and you ruined it!

  LMAO! Couldn’t resist.

  All right, gotta go. Text me if you need anything.

  I will. Thanks, man.

  ;-)

  I pull on a pair of boxer briefs and some sweatpants. I sit back down on the edge of my bed and look toward the door. I feel like I should give Dennis some space, but I also feel like I should force him to listen to me. Force him to hear my apology. After a couple of minutes of debating with myself, I head out into the living room.

  DENNIS

  TUCKER EMERGES from the hallway about an hour after we walked in the door, showered and dressed in his infamous sweatpants. I try not to look at him, but he is sexy with his hair damp. He’s removed the gauze from his forehead. My eyes follow the two-inch line of black stitches that starts from right above his left eyebrow and moves down toward his temple. My anger and disgust at my father rises at seeing those stitches, but so does my disappointment and irritation at Tucker.

  He goes into the kitchen and gets a glass of water, then stands by the sink and drinks it. I remain on the couch, brooding. I don’t want to talk to him right now because I’m afraid I might say something I’ll regret. I don’t want to feel like this toward him. I should be more understanding. It’s hard, though, when I’ve had so many issues with my own past, and here he is refusing to move on also, right under my nose. How had I not seen it?

  Tucker sets his glass down on the counter. His eyes meet mine. That’s when I realize I’ve been staring at him. I wrench my head around to stare at the TV instead.

  A moment later, the other end of the couch moves as Tucker sits down.

  “Dennis, please talk to me. I can’t stand the silent treatment.” Tucker sighs.

  I glance over at him. His eyes plead with me, and my insides turn to goo when he looks at me like that. How can I stay mad at him? Fuck. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably do the same damn thing, wouldn’t I? Now I know for sure I’ve fallen in love with him. I internally shake my head at myself. If he can give me one glance and it melts away any anger I was harboring toward him… that’s fucking love. Damn. This is all still so new, still fragile. I’m not trying to rush anything. What if we decide this isn’t what we want? I don’t know if I can go back to being only friends with him now.

  “I’m sorry, Dennis. I should have told you. I’ve heard so much shit from my family about it that I didn’t want to hear it from you too. But you were right to call me a hypocrite. I didn’t even realize I was being hypocritical until you said it. I thought I was doing Chuck some kind of justice by not getting my hearing fixed. But I see now I actually haven’t been able to move on, and remaining deaf was a way of coping with his death. I’m going to work on moving on and maybe rethink my choice of staying this way.”

  My breath catches when I hear the last line. He will rethink his choice to not get his hearing fixed?

  “Really? You would do that?” I ask slowly, making sure to look at him.

  He nods sincerely. “Yes.”

  Relief floods me, plain and simple. It would honestly take away so much worry I carry for him, especially after what just happened. What if he’s walking down the street and someone sneaks up on him for whatever reason? And Lord knows he scares the shit out of me when he rides his motorcycle. The what-ifs are endless.

  “I would appreciate that,” I tell him.

  He scoots closer so we are sitting next to each other. He finds my hand and laces our fingers together. I gaze down at our hands. They are both so masculine; it still looks funny to me. I lift my eyes back up to meet Tucker’s. My heart skips a beat when I see the fondness and affection in his eyes for me. It’s quite possible he’s in love with me too.

  I slowly lean in to kiss him. His eyes slide closed and his lips part in anticipation. My lips touch his lightly. Another kiss, this time a bit firmer. My heart kicks up a notch, and my stomach flutters madly. The only other person who gave me butterflies in my stomach when I kissed them was Zara. Tucker slides his fingers along my jaw and into the hair behind my ear. I shift my body so I’m facing him. The kiss turns more passionate. Our tongues get involved, twining around each other.

  I push Tucker down and cover him with my body as the kiss continues, slowly growing hotter and hotter. I drag my mouth across to his neck, sucking and licking my way to his collarbone.

  “Mmm, Denny.”

  Just hearing him moan my name has me hard and raring to go. I continue down his body, stopping to tease his nipples a bit, which he seems to like. I grab his sweatpants and underwear and yank them off in one shot. Tucker’s erection slaps against his
stomach. I smirk as I stroke his cock slowly. He moans again and arches his back slightly, making the muscles in his stomach stretch and bunch. I can’t get over how tantalizing I find his muscles. Zara was all soft, smooth curves. Tucker and his hard body is completely opposite, but just as arousing. While still stroking him, I move back up to kiss him some more. I don’t think I will ever get tired of kissing him.

  His breath catches against my mouth, and it sets my blood on fire. I would love to be inside him right now. My cock pulses at the thought. I tear my lips away from his and move down to take his cock into my mouth. He shouts out his pleasure and shoves his hands into my hair. Sucking dick is definitely not as horrible as I had initially imagined. I actually enjoy doing it because of how much Tucker seems to love it. His hips roll in time with my rhythm. I release him for a second and meet his questioning gaze as I stick my middle finger from my free hand into my mouth to get it wet. His eyes widen when he realizes where that finger is going. His breath quickens and his body trembles. I’m assuming it’s from anticipation, because he doesn’t say no.

  I take him back into my mouth, as deeply as I can while I place my now-wet finger at his asshole. Tucker lets out a strangled cry, his hips bucking slightly. I slowly run my finger around his hole, letting him get used to the sensation.

  “Ugh! Dennis! I want it! Give it to me!” he cries, his head straining back into the couch cushion.

  He lifts his legs higher to give me better access. I swear I could come in my pants right now.