on his palm.
‘Hi,’ he signed. ‘My name Fitz.’
Rocco couldn’t tell if it was early education sign or something he’d picked up from YouTube. The grammar was wrong, and his movements were jerky, but it was something. ‘Rocco,’ he spelled before offering his sign name.
When Fitz pulled out a small pad of paper, it became obvious he was uncomfortable. ‘I only know a little sign from when I met Birdie’s cousin. Sorry.’
Rocco waved him off and scribbled beneath Fitz’s neater writing, ‘No worries.’
‘Simon said you were coming by to help?’
‘Put me where need me. James ok here?’
Fitz frowned at the paper, then looked over his shoulder at the parking lot before shaking his head. ‘James isn’t here.’
Rocco scratched his nose, then realized the mistake. ‘Pocket James. Dog.’ He pointed down at his little baby who was perched on one of his feet, staring up with his tongue lolling out.
Fitz had a loud, booming laugh which Rocco both heard and felt, and the guy clapped him on the shoulder before he wrote again. ‘Pocket James. Brilliant. He can go hang out with Spencer and the cats.’ Fitz pointed across the way at a little traveling paddock halfway through being set up, at two slender men who were leaning against the half-standing fence post with their heads close together. ‘Spencer and Max. They’ll watch James.’
Rocco nodded, feeling a little apprehensive about turning his baby over to strangers, but these were Simon’s people, and Simon would have warned him if there was anyone he should avoid. He straightened his shoulders, then turned to Fitz and pointed to the notepad. “Can I borrow that?”
Fitz blinked then grinned and nodded, handing it over. Rocco signed a quick thanks, then turned on his heel and crossed the grass toward the men who had gotten back to work. The one with lighter hair noticed him first, and he said something to his companion who stopped and looked over his shoulder. Rocco watched as his eyes went wide, as his tanned skin went a bit pale, then pink around his ears.
The man recognized him.
Rocco held up the hand not holding the leash and notepad in greeting, then stopped a couple feet away to scribble on the paper. ‘Hi, I’m Rocco. Helping Fitz. Fitz say u watch James 4 me?’
The dark-haired man took the note, his tongue darting over his lips nervously as he read, and Rocco was pretty sure he let out a nervous laugh before he looked back up and pointed to himself. ‘M A X.’ His finger spelling was less stilted than Fitz’s had been. He pointed to his companion. ‘S P E N C E R.’
Rocco offered his sign name. ‘Do you sign?’
Max flushed all over and made a see-saw gesture with his hand, then rubbed a circle around his chest with a fist. ‘Sorry.’
Rocco waved him off, then took to writing again because he just wasn’t in the mood to deal with half-signs and pantomime. ‘It’s fine, writing good. James ok here?’
Spencer, who was reading over Max’s shoulder, looked up and nodded eagerly. He nudged his partner out of the way before dropping to his knees, and James wasted no time at all endearing himself to the total strangers. In seconds, he was on his back baring his stomach for pets.
Max laughed and rubbed the back of his neck before tapping his chest with his thumb and wiggling his fingers. ‘Fine.’
Rocco nodded. ‘Thanks.’ He pointed to himself, then over to where Fitz was unloading, and Max gave another nod. It wasn’t much—but it was something. Rocco watched James trot after Spencer, then pause by one of the small crates to sniff before scrambling back. Probably an irritated cat, and Rocco didn’t blame the thing. He hated the feeling of being closed in—of being locked up.
It was strange how a life of freedom to live however he wanted had started to feel like a cage. And part of it was being Sylent. Part of it was being a publicly consumed celebrity with no real right to privacy. But part of it was also letting himself get lost in the idea of himself rather than the man he was.
How a small town with barely thirty thousand people managed to break down those walls was beyond him, but he felt like he could breathe for the first time. When he got back to Fitz, he had a smile on his face as he was put to work. The boxes were heavy, and he was sweating even harder. He