Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection)

by Ketley Allison

  Rex’s chin tips up as he enters, a notification that Astor is nearby and he’s greeting her. I follow suit, pulling up my ratty hood like a pitiful shield before I stuff my bruised, cut hands in the front pocket.

  Ben’s at the kitchen island, coffee steaming at his elbow as he rubs his eye with the other hand. When he gets a load of Rex in his pajamas, he jerks back, and when he gets a look-see at me, his eyes visibly pop out of his head.

  “What the fuck happened to you two?” Ben says.

  I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s saying something close to that. Maybe with a few more expletives.

  Astor rounds the island, head down as she’s tying her robe. As soon as her gaze shoots up and lands on me, she nearly trips over her feet. Oh my God.

  I press my lips together. It’s taking everything in my power to maintain their stares and not duck down in humiliation.

  Rex’s arms start moving, gesturing as he speaks to them.

  The lack of sound affords me the gift of focus, and I watch both of their expressions twist and contort with confusion, then horror, their gazes pinging to me, then ponging back to Rex, as I assume he gives them the full story.

  I picture it like this: Easton’s been hiding the fact that he’s permanently losing his hearing, and he lost it tonight. He’s bruised and bloody because he was forced to defend his girlfriend from an abusive ex, and she’s not much better off. I just bailed the idiot out of jail, and he wants to find her. Astor, you’re the only friend of hers he knows. Do you know where she is?

  Maybe with a few more expletives.

  “Taryn?” I see Astor mouth, worry shining in her gaze as she keeps listening to Rex. “Is she okay?”

  “DO YOU KNOW WHERE SHE IS?”

  Everybody, even the fucking hidden waterbugs in the sink drain, jumps in surprise at my voice. Jesus Christ, I have got to get control of my volume.

  As their attention falls on me, I clear my throat and try again, having no idea how my syllables are coming across. “She’s not at the hospital anymore. She didn’t say where she was going. You’re her friend, Astor, but you’re my friend, too. Do you know where she could’ve gone?”

  I don’t think I spoke as clearly as I intended, because Astor’s eyes well up. Her lower lip shakes as she looks to Ben, like he can make sense of this situation, but he’s just as astounded as she is.

  This whole day continues to be terrible. An awful swell is drifting up into my throat, and now that it’s happened, and I have no ears, I’m wondering why I didn’t warn them, or at least hint at the fact that the next time they see me, I’ll be deaf.

  Now, instead of getting down to the details of Taryn’s whereabouts, there’s the factor of my lies and deceit, my utter denial to my friends, that has to be waded through.

  Astor bursts forward and grips me into a hug. She’s tall and strong, and robs my breath, but my arms go around her as my brows pinch down.

  Ben stumbles forward, past Rex, who steps aside, and he grabs my face in his hands. This close, I see tears in his eyes, and fuck, the swell is higher now, reaching up and making my eyes go hot.

  “Easton,” Ben mouths. “My God, Easton.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and the vibration in my throat is erratic and thick.

  Astor lets go and shoves me back.

  “You fucking idiot,” she seethes. “You goddamn fucking idiot!”

  My mind substitutes words to match her furious expression, but I feel they’re fairly apt as she points and yells.

  Ben goes to her side, calming her as much as he can, but the betrayal and hurt in his features can’t be soothed the same way.

  He says to me something like, “Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you let us help you through this?”

  All I can do is shrug and respond, “If I put it in words, I was making it true. And I didn’t want it to be real.”

  Astor rolls her eyes in angry disgust, but despair simmers underneath.

  “Please, Astor,” I say. “I have to find Taryn.”

  “I don’t know where she is,” she responds, shaking her head, but her gaze casts to the floor.

  Body language. The world’s best lie detector, especially when you’re fucking deaf.

  I step forward. “You know.”

  Astor bites her lip and moves her head in another denial, but I stop it with a hand to her arm. “Astor, please. She’s hurt. She’s alone with her kid, and there’s a madman who could be after her.”

  Astor replies, but even after staring hard at her mouth and searching her eyes, I don’t catch what she’s saying. “What?”

  Rex cuts in, holding up his phone, and then gesturing to Astor’s kitchen island, where she has her laptop. Nodding in understanding, she opens it, types rapidly, then spins the screen toward me so I can read.

  * * *

  It’s because of that madman I’m not disclosing her location. I’m her lawyer now, Easton.

  * * *

  My fists clench. “I’m not the madman!”

  Astor flinches, and Ben holds up a hand to me. Okay, fine, I might be a variant of a madman right now, but I’m not that asshole.

  Yet, my history with Astor tells me that arguing with her will get me nowhere. “Has she called you? Is she all right? Safe?”

  Astor nods, kindness in her expression, but I’m still fucking pissed at her for not telling me where Taryn is.

  “Does she want to see me?” I ask.

  The kindness blooms to pity when she shakes her head, No.

  “That can’t be true. You’re lying,” I say.

  Ben gestures for me to lower my voice, but it’s not stern. Again, it’s a motion filled with pity.

  Ignore it, I think. Stay the course. Don’t let emotion boil over the brim.

  I grab the laptop and slide it closer so I can type.

  * * *

  I was there. I saw him hit her near to unconsciousness. Her kid saw everything. I’ve been with her every day for weeks, and you’re telling me she doesn’t want to see me?

  * * *

  Astor had come up beside me, and while I still want to furiously type, she rests her hand on my forearm and gently pushes me aside.

  * * *

  She’s worried about you, Easton, of course she is. But now it’s about protecting her son. I never even knew she had a child until recently. That’s how much she values shielding him. Last night came to a breaking point, and she’s readying to leave. I’m filing her divorce papers, drafting a restraining order, and doing everything I can to keep her safe and legally make it so she can keep her son.

  * * *

  I slide the laptop out of her hands. Where is Bryan?

  Astor shifts closer and responds.

  * * *

  He’s at the hospital recovering but is handcuffed to the bed. He’s facing charges. Currently, we know where he is, but soon, when he’s released, we won’t. And he has a lot of money to bury these charges. Do you see now how imperative it is that we keep her location secret?

  * * *

  No, I don’t see, I type sullenly. My fingers hover over the keys before I type the inevitable. I love her.

  Astor rests her head on my shoulder. I know. And Taryn will want to know you’re okay. But right now, I can’t tell her that. Rex says you haven’t been to a doctor yet.

  I glare at the betrayer. I must’ve missed that little tidbit in his monologue. I’ve been to docs, and the diagnosis isn’t going to change. My hearing’s fucked, but not my head, so please, let me see my girl.

  Astor types, I can’t.

  * * *

  LET ME SEE MY GODDAMNED GIRL.

  * * *

  Astor shakes her head—

  I know you have your secrets, I type, and stare at her hard until she does what I want and looks at the screen. Then I continue. I know you’ve done bad things, stuff that doesn’t make you a good person, until it’s revealed WHY you’ve done them. You and Ben are hiding something, I’ve known it for a long time.

 
; Astor’s gaze cuts to Ben, and he hovers closer so he can read. Fine, let the two of them understand that I’m well aware of their hijinks.

  * * *

  Taryn’s muttered about her current case a few times, her suspicions. Something involving you, Astor. She thinks you’ve done something to help stick charges on this mafia druglord asshole, and she’s worried you’ll get into trouble for it if you’re caught. A lot of fucking deep shit.

  * * *

  I see Astor’s chest rise in a heavy inhale and notice when she searches for Ben’s hand and finds it. Ben remains stoic, but something is cracking beneath the surface. His lips twitch. Rex simply cocks a brow at the interesting information.

  Then, Astor finds her resolve. Whatever your baseless assumptions, Easton, none of this is relevant to Taryn’s—

  I cut her off. I know why you did it.

  Her chest hitches, and her gaze locks on to mine. As I continue to hover over the keyboard, I don’t break her stare. And when I do, it’s to say:

  * * *

  You did it for someone you love, someone you’d do anything for, and I’m not going to ask why, because I know it’s for my friend, Ben Donahue, standing right fucking beside you.

  * * *

  Ben’s free hand is gripping the kitchen island so tight, his knuckles are white and his fingers tremble.

  * * *

  I said I won’t ask, I type to them both, because I simply understand that it’s worth it. Just like breaking your confidence and telling me where Taryn’s at. She’s worth it, Astor. I need her in my arms.

  * * *

  Astor hesitates. A flush has risen to her cheeks, and she’s instinctively drawn closer to Ben, clinging to him, even if she doesn’t realize it.

  Yes, these two have gone through some tough-ass shit, and I don’t begrudge them their secrets, even if those secrets break the law, since when it comes to Taryn, I’m willing to commit murder.

  Silence entrenches the room, and it’s not solely due to my deafness. The air is thick, despite every person holding their breath.

  At last, Astor moves to type.

  And she tells me where Taryn is.

  37

  Taryn

  As soon as I’ve ensured Jamie’s sleeping deeply, I carefully slide off the bed and to an armchair near the window, and I sob.

  Everything aches. My body, my head, my heart, my soul.

  I debate pulling the curtains and shutting us both in the dark, but the sunlight’s warmth trails across the cuts and bruises on my face, providing a healing glow despite my tears. And frankly, I don’t want to put my son in darkness, not when the rays make his hair gleam like diamonds as he sleeps off the shock.

  I know I did the right thing, sneaking out of the hospital and going to an unknown hotel, but it took every thread of fiber I had left to call Astor instead of text Easton. And every ounce of energy to sneak past a sleeping, caring, loyal Harper in a waiting room chair.

  Easton and Harper, who are better off without me.

  Easton, who’s deaf and confused and probably devastated at the way I’ve left him.

  Easton, who deserves the time to adjust to his new body, without the drama of a battered girlfriend with too much trauma of her own to carry.

  I remind myself, while wiping under my eyes, that I’m sheltering this child, and whatever heartbreak that ensues because of it is my burden alone.

  Memories will help. These past weeks with Easton and the way he battened down and decided to learn a deaf boy’s life. How he treated my son like he was whole, instead of regarding him as missing a crucial piece of normalcy.

  I smile at the flashback where Easton was told that the yellow caution sign on my street, DEAF CHILDREN NEARBY, was installed because of my petition to the Commissioner, and how it also acted as a sign of huge embarrassment to my son, since he was the only deaf child nearby. With full seriousness, Easton replied to Jamie, “How about we ask your mom to petition for DEAF ROCKER NEARBY on my street, and we can be twinsies?”

  Jamie, unable to contain himself, burst out with laughter and shoved at Easton, but it was obvious how delighted Jamie was.

  God, and I’m giving that man up.

  I focus on Jamie’s snoozing form, my visual reminder that losing my heart is worth keeping this boy safe. It’s the reason I cashed those checks from Bryan, even though every time I was forced to, it sickened me. What choice was left?

  I’ll have to explain why Harper isn’t around, too. Jamie’s best friend and confidante, who I’m leaving behind because I’m terrified to keep her. What would Bryan do to her if she proved her loyalty to us? What lies would he unleash, threats would he hurl, against a woman who has done nothing but nurture his son and comfort me? Would he hurt her, too?

  I can’t take the chance. I’ll break Jamie’s heart, but I’ll save Harper’s life.

  The light knock on my door is initially startling, before the deep fear sets in.

  On trembling legs, I stand, straightening my sweater gingerly, my ribs screaming with every quickened breath. Careful not to cast too much shadow, I step to the side of the door and bend to peer through the peephole, a trick I learned soon after I left Bryan. Luring a person to look through the peephole is one of the easiest ways to shoot that same person through the wood and point blank in the chest.

  Bryan can’t have found out where I am. There’s no way.

  I let out an audible exhale when I see who it is—Easton—but my inhale hitches.

  Opening the door, I’m floored by Easton’s breadth, the span of his shoulders, the flop of his dark hair, the flawless gleam of his bronze eyes. My vision goes wet, and my expression crumbles as his mirrors mine.

  I say simply, since words have left me, “Why?”

  He’s breathing heavily, and there are new, unknown scrapes and scratches on his face. He’s wearing a stranger’s ill-fitting clothing. But, instead of answering, Easton folds me into his arms, kissing my hair gently, then my forehead fervently, then my lips, and I’m confident words have no business here.

  He shushes me with a finger, then cups my face, tilting it this way and that, inspecting, then growling.

  The sound is loud in the hallway, crawling through the large space like a warning purr before the lethal swipe, and I pull him inside, shutting the door as soft as I can manage.

  Jamie, so sensitive to vibrations now that he’s seen his mother broken and bloody on the floor, jolts awake at any kind of thud. It took me hours to soothe him into the state he’s now in, and I try to make that clear to Easton.

  Easton nods, guiding me to the armchair in the corner, where he sits and settles me onto his lap. He holds my face again, pulling it close to him, and kisses the tip of my nose with such delicacy and preciousness that I’m moved to more tears.

  I love you, he signs. That’s why.

  Lips shaking, I kiss his mouth. You’re not safe with me.

  Easton cocks a brow and retorts, You’re not safe without me.

  Bryan caught me by surprise, I defend. I was too confident with his absence and thought I could handle him. I know better now. There are more tactics than strength and brawn. I’ll make sure he never touches a hair on Jamie’s head, you can count on that.

  But Easton’s lost track of what I’m saying. Furious emotion took over, and I signed too quickly. Slowing down, I say, It’s better if we leave and start over. Far away from Bryan.

  Easton signs simply, I can’t let you go.

  When he moves his head, the window light catches the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

  Are you okay? I sign, horrified that I’ve spoken only about Bryan, when Easton lost his hearing last night. Have you been—

  No say doctor, Easton signs with a wry expression. I’m fine. I guess.

  I brush at the light dew of his forehead. His brows pull together as he stares at his hands, as if willing them to become proficient.

  I walk here, he eventually signs. It why I sweat.

  Walked? From where?


  “M—” Easton stops himself before saying anything further, glancing abashedly at Jamie. Jamie may not hear, but he’s on such high alert, I’m not confident he’d miss any sound wave. Mid. Middle.

  Midtown, I supply for him, but my brows shoot up. You walked over forty blocks?

  Nodding, he signs, Had to. I love you. Was going to lose you.

  “Easton,” I whisper, so softly my ears barely catch it. I rest my lips on his, a pillowy, soothing movement, and I draw his breath in. I can’t believe this man made a trip so far, on foot, to get to me. I pull away.

  That was so dangerous, I say to him.

  Easton smiles dryly. Few near-misses. Can’t hear cars now. Step into traffic once or two.

  “Christ, Easton,” I whisper, all kinds of scenarios washing over my panicked brain.

  Easton not hearing a car honk.

  Easton smacking into a truck’s grill. Being thrown ten feet in the air from a taxi’s impact. Puddled on the ground, broken and alone, because he’s too stubborn to love and let go.

  Why didn’t you get a car? I ask.

  Easton’s expression turns tense and annoyed. Wallet in car with Rex. Rex against me come here. Rex go away.

  You’re an idiot, I sign.

  He nods. I aware.

  With careful consideration, I trace the shell of his ear, the dips and valleys, so sensitive to sound and ready to receive the right signals, despite the inner canals shutting down.

  Easton lets me, studying my face as I gently travel from one ear to the other.

  Don’t be sorry, he signs. No pity from you.

  I stop my study. None.

  He leans forward and takes my mouth for his own, his tongue stroking, his lips sucking, the same way they did before. His passion hasn’t changed. His will.