Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,62
in the other side once she’s shifted across.
“Is this better?” I ask, enunciating each word clearly and directly into her ear. She raises and dips her head. “When you’re wearing your hearing aids, I don’t think of you as deaf.”
“With them, I’m not. Oh, it’s not perfect. If someone mumbles, if there’s too much background noise, I sometimes can’t catch things. But the team knows and makes allowances.”
“You compensate,” I tell her. “Adjust. You’ve overcome your disability, Swift. You haven’t let it hold you back. I’m fuckin’ impressed.” I can’t be sure she’s hearing every word, but she’s heard enough.
“Before this happened, I was never scared. Cautious, wary, of course. But a soldier turns fear into adrenaline, otherwise they’d run from danger, not into it. I trained, I can handle situations that most others can’t. I’m not bragging, it’s fact.”
I lie back down, listening to her speak, wanting to pull her into my arms, but I value my balls too much. At least talking is relaxing her, the shivering that had disturbed me so much is receding, her trembles becoming weaker.
“You need to know my weakness, Road. I can’t sleep with hearing aids in. For a start, they cause feedback if I lie on my side, and guess what? That’s the position I navigate to once I close my eyes. Also, if I kept them in all the time, that leads to a problem with wax. But when I take them out, I’m helpless.” She pauses, but there’s no point in me saying anything. Instead, I reach for her hand, to offer tactile reassurance, but realise my mistake before I make contact.
“Unless I’m lying on my right-hand side, if a fire alarm goes off, I probably wouldn’t hear it, and depending on the frequency, I might not even hear that. Low sounds I can’t pick up at all, so if an intruder entered, I wouldn’t wake. I feel so darn helpless. Back at the compound I’ve got technical aids—the bed shakes, or lights flash if the door opens or an alarm goes off. But away from home?”
She’s helpless.
It would be frightening for anybody, but she’s highly trained. She can handle herself in every situation. I might not have served myself, but I’ve gotten close to men who have. Someone like Peg, for example, always wants to be in control. He’ll always sit with his back to the wall and face any point of entry. Always vigilant, always on the lookout. Swift’s training is more advanced than anyone I’ve ever met, so this will have hit her badly.
If I’m going to be her partner, she’s right to open up to me. If we’re going to work together, we need to know each other’s strengths, and where we’re not so strong. She’s seen my weakness, a fuckin’ leg which will hopefully improve in time, though never come right completely. Now she’s admitted hers, and I fucking hate it on her behalf.
“At home,” she expands, “I feel safe. Here, I’m exposed.” She takes a breath. “I’ve got PTSD, Road. And I shouldn’t fuckin’ have that. I wasn’t injured in action.”
I pull myself up and lean on my elbow to speak into her not-so-deaf ear again. “Swift, you were fuckin’ injured saving a man’s life. Your training and quick thinking meant he’s alive today. What was that if not action?”
She goes so quiet I wonder whether I’ve spoken too fast, whether she’s picked up on anything that I’ve said.
“I hate it, Road. Hate that I can be strong during the day. Hate that it’s only those aids which make me that way. Hate that I rely on them so completely that when I take them out I feel so fuckin’ vulnerable that I uncontrollably shake. And I hate that for some fucking reason, I’m talking to you this way.” She glances up at me and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”
I don’t know why she is either. I hadn’t expected her to open up with such honesty. “I’m glad you are,” I swallow back the ‘babe’ that comes to my lips automatically, “because I didn’t think it was PTSD, I thought you were taking a personal moment.”
Her brow creases, then her eyes widen. After a couple more seconds a startled snort comes from her. Then she starts to chuckle, followed by an outright laugh. When Swift bumps her fist to your arm, I find you know all about it. Immediately after, I’m massaging where she hit.