Playing You: Players to Lovers, Book 4

by Allison, Ketley

  We arrive at the hospital in less than fifteen minutes, only through sheer luck of passing through green lights, since Rex is driving painfully, agonizingly slow.

  Sensing my annoyance, Rex points to the empty car seat installed in the back, mouthing carefully, “I’m a new man, asshole.”

  Grumbling, I face the front again, arms crossed.

  When Rex pulls up to the entrance, I throw open the car door and stumble inside, falling against the reception desk, using my palms for balance.

  “TARYN MADDOX,” I say, and the nurse skitters back at my voice.

  A hand comes down on my arm, and it’s Rex. He utters something at the same time I throw off his grip—again—and anxiously wait for this fucking nurse to fucking understand what I fucking want.

  She replies to Rex, and it’s like they’re having a private goddamned conversation. I’m so furious, I’m seeing red, but Rex makes a hand motion at me to simmer down, tips his chin as a thank you to the nurse, and points me to the elevators.

  I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I can’t perform the simplest tasks, like ask where my woman is recovering from being assaulted.

  And that’s what she is. My woman, even though I’m so much less of a man.

  Rex leads me to the correct floor, and I’m forced to have him as some sort of guide dog, since I have no capacity to figure out the world of able-hearing people around me.

  I took such advantage of maintaining my hearing. Thinking I was invincible. And now look at me. I can’t even find Taryn without holding someone’s hand.

  We stop at another nurse’s station, and I remain stone-faced, but heavily breathing, beside Rex, waiting for him to translate for me where she is.

  When his brows pull down in consternation, I step forward. Grab his arm. Demand an answer.

  This time, he shakes me off and tells me with a finger to wait.

  I’m gonna bite that finger to pieces.

  Just as my jaw unhinges, Rex turns, pressing his hands firmly down on my shoulders, and says, “She’s not here.”

  “WHAT?”

  My exclamation makes the busy hospital staff nearby stop and stare.

  “She’s not here,” Rex repeats, and it is only past familiarity with his tone that I can hear his voice in my head. “She was discharged.”

  “WHERE DID SHE GO?”

  Rex’s expression wrenches as he shrugs. He doesn’t know.

  When I peer over his shoulder to see the nurse, she also shrugs. She doesn’t know.

  “WHERE IS SHE?” I try again, gripping my friend’s arms and digging hard into the skin. “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?”

  In a slow, agonizing arc, Rex shakes his head.

  No one knows.

  36

  Easton

  I need my music.

  I need my notepad, my sticks and my drum kit in order to translate my frustration into beats and keys and bangs, the harrowing notes and clash of symbols combining into an orchestral anger I can transmit through air, through walls, across the world.

  Anger in silence is like being trapped in a concrete box at the bottom of the ocean.

  And I’m screaming to be let out.

  Rex: We need to get you home.

  We’re sitting in his car, still in the hospital parking lot, because I’m refusing to tell Rex where I want to go. Molars clenched so hard, my cheeks ache, I text back, I have to find her.

  Rex: Buddy, we don’t know where she is. And you’re going through something seriously traumatic. I think we should go back inside and check you in. You need to be looked at. You know you do.

  Me: This is more important.

  Rex: WOULD YOU STOP PUTTING YOUR HEALTH AT THE BOTTOM OF THE LIST?

  I automatically flinch at the shouted words. In an attempt to calm down, I type, You didn’t see her after the fucker was done with her. You think I look bad? You think I’m going through something? Taryn was beat up, Rex. Beat up bad, and before I do anything else, I need to see that she’s safe. I need to SEE her.

  I’m not paying attention to Rex as he forms his response. I’m staring so hard at Taryn’s name, I’m sure my phone’s screen will crack from impact. She can’t be reduced to writing. Taryn is so much more than that, and there’s a small, brutal part of me that thinks she’s left for good. Bryan’s confrontation was too much, my involvement too soon, and she’s taken her boy and run.

  No, baby, please don’t let this be the last I’ve seen of you. Please don’t leave.

  Rex: You went deaf tonight. Is that not a crisis enough for you?

  I close my eyes for the briefest of seconds, my lids giving the slightest relief of moisture and darkness before I form my inevitable reply.

  I’m gone, Rex. It’s a genetic condition. It can’t be undone. And no doctor tonight or next week or next month will fix it. After I send the text, I meet his eyes, knowing my stare is dull and lifeless. This is me, now.

  Rex’s expression crumbles. He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, hard. Clutches and shakes my body, his lips pulled in and his stare downcast. Then, after a breath, he lets go and types, Where do you want to go. I’ll take you anywhere.

  I’d been thinking about it while reading Taryn’s name, letter by letter. And I know what I have to do, and all the hoops I’ll have to jump through in order to do it.

  I say, Take me to Astor.

  * * *

  I swear to fucking Christ on a cracker.

  As I’m thinking it, my hands instinctively sign the sentence (courtesy of Jamie), and Rex takes his eyes off the road long enough to notice the sign language.

  He nods, as if his confusion has been dispersed a little more, and I glower at him. It’s because of his insanely slow-ass driving that I’m cursing with my fingers, but eventually, at last, ten years later, he pulls up to Astor’s apartment.

  Rex stops me from storming out with by grasping my forearm. He lifts his phone in a wait gesture.

  Rex: want me to come in with you?

  No.

  Unfortunately, rational thought takes over and I realize I may need him to communicate to Astor and Ben what the hell’s going on.

  Ah, shit. Ben.

  During these months of seclusion, I’ve let a lot of my friendships fall to the wayside, including my college buddies. Especially Ben.

  The guilt doesn’t linger enough to curdle, since my mind is on another priority.

  I nod curtly to Rex and step out of his car. He follows suit, his headlights flashing as he locks his vehicle. I don’t hear the confirmation beep.

  Lights. Mirrors. Vibrations. Taryn. Those four things are my new senses, now.

  For some inane reason, Astor and Ben don’t live together yet, but as we ascend to her floor, I’m fairly certain we’ll see him there at this ungodly hour, since he’s there practically every night, anyway.

  As we approach her apartment door, it’s cracked open for our arrival. Rex let the front desk know we were here, and as the poor, disenchanted man in a suit much too fancy for 3 AM rang up to let Astor know, a tiny shred of me was happy not to do the dirty work of waking them up. Astor swears worse than I do.

  I stop at the threshold. Rex glances over in confusion, and I usher him in first. I’m not sure how I want them to see me, or why I care at this point, but shame swirls deep in my gut, and I’m worried.

  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 r
obe. 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 while 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, 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 t
he 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.