I spin my chair around. “You love what you do, right?”

“Always have.”

“Good.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Finish out my contract and see how it goes.”

“I meant about Peck, doofus.”

I laugh. “Oh, I guess I’m going to tell her how I feel, and grab her and stick her in a closet when she runs screaming in the other direction.”

“Something tells me you’re worried for nothing.”

I hedge. “I don’t know.”

“You’re smart, dedicated, sympathetic, and you have the ability to love her unlike anyone ever has. Stop doubting yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Stop doubting myself. I’ll get right on that.

Peck

Emily is in the sound booth working on her new single, recording the lyrics. The background we laid down two weeks ago will be added later.

She has the purest voice I have ever heard. It resonates with the listener, reverberates around in your head, and comes out all your pleasure centers. The hair on my arms stands up, and I look down at Kit, Emily and Logan’s daughter, and she pats my cheek. I’m standing outside the booth holding her while her mom works. I take her hand in mine, press it to my mouth, and blow a razzberry onto her tender skin. She squeals and giggles, and then pats my face again. “’G’in,” she says.

I blow into her palm and she laughs. Kit is walking and starting to talk.

What did she say? Logan asks me in sign language.

Again, I tell him. She wanted me to blow on her hand again.

She reaches for her daddy and he takes her from me, hoisting her into his arms. She bounces in his arms and he laughs.

“I want to hear her talk,” he says out loud.

What? I ask him. What could he possibly mean by that?

Em and I went to talk to a doctor last week. I’m scheduled for surgery right before we leave on the tour. He looks at me. Going to get a cochlear implant. Then they’ll activate it when the tour is over.

Seriously? I never imagined he would do that.

He nods. I don’t want to miss anything. I already missed her first word. I can’t hear her cry in the night. I can’t tell if she’s calling for me. I can’t hear her laugh. He looks toward Emily in the booth, where’s she’s perched on a stool with a guitar in her lap. She smiles at him and kisses her palm, then blows it toward him. He grins, reaches for the flying imaginary kiss, and tucks it into his pocket. He turns back to me. Kit has laid her head on his chest, and she snuggles under his chin. He lazily strokes her back, and her eyes start to drift closed. He talks with his hands behind her back. I can feel when she needs me, but I can’t hear it. He shakes his head.

Deafness is a culture—a strong one. This much I know. For him to get an implant, he must feel very strongly about his desire to hear, to experience all the sounds he’ll miss with having a daughter.

That can’t be an easy decision for you.

It’s not. I haven’t even told my brothers yet.

Seriously? He told me and he hasn’t told them?

Em’s the only one who knows. I’m still working it out in my head.

Are you ready for the tour?

I’m ready to see her get to play her music for everyone. He nods toward her. She’s made for this stuff.

I’m glad you’re going with her.

She’s my heart. I’d stop breathing if I couldn’t be with her.

He says it like he’s saying he wants a pastrami sandwich. Like his words don’t pack an emotional punch. Like what he’s saying isn’t pivotal.

She’s the air I breathe. She’s the food that keeps me from starving. She’s the mother of my child. He shakes his head. A couple of years ago, I never would have thought this feeling could be possible.

What feeling?

The feeling that she is the only thing I need to survive. I used to fuck women. That’s all. Then I met her. He looks at her through the glass. And I didn’t fuck her, because I couldn’t bear to lose her.

I don’t even know how to respond to that.

How are things going with Sam?

Fine.

Fine? He grins.

Heat creeps up my cheeks. Fine. I want to ask him so many questions about Sam.

He’s pretty taken with you.

Taken? What does that even mean?

Absorbed. Entranced by. He really, really likes you.

How do you know?

He snorts. Because you got him all tongue-tied all the time. He doesn’t know up from down. Left from right. Top from bottom. That boy is taken. He lifts a hand and chucks my shoulder. But then he gets really serious. Honestly, I’ve never seen him with anyone the way he is with you.

What do you mean?

He avoids my eyes. He used to be a little bit of a horn dog. But he dropped all that the moment he met you. He’s different. It’s like you fill him with possibility.

I lay a hand on my chest. That’s not me. That’s just him. He is one big possibility, all by himself.

You see him as more than he is. That’s why you’re good for him.

He’s a professional football player. Seriously? He’s the shit. He knows he’s the shit.

He’s a man. And he has the same insecurities as the rest of us. His hands stop moving for a minute. They’re almost hesitant when they start back up. It hasn’t been easy for us. We had a mom who was awesome. And a dad who wasn’t. But even with all we were lacking, we had each other. That was never in doubt.