Read Online Speechless (Pier 70 #3) by Nicole Edwards - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nicole Edwards
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the one-off instances when Hudson had no choice. Since these days most people had a cell phone, it was easier for Hudson to explain via text message. For the most part, the people who came into the shop were receptive to that. Although, there had been a couple of jackasses who refused, and in those cases, Hudson would seek out one of the guys so they could relay what he needed to say.
However, this time the newcomer wasn’t a customer, so rather than have a confrontation with Teague, he decided to go back to his office to take care of the paperwork he’d been working on.
“Are you purposely ignoring me?” Teague blurted as he stepped into the office a few seconds later.
Keeping his expression neutral, Hudson glanced up at him. He’d been waiting for Teague to come to him, to tell him whether or not he was going to take him up on his offer, only that hadn’t happened. Even after the night of the fireworks, when they’d shared a moment—and yes, no matter what either of them wanted to say, they had shared a moment—Teague hadn’t confronted him. Possibly a record for the kid.
Rather than answer, Hudson gave Teague his undivided attention, watching him closely.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Teague grumbled, his hands going to his hips. “One night you barge into my apartment, kiss the fuck out of me, offer to fuck my brains out, and then…”
And then?
Teague stared at Hudson’s hands as he signed the two words, but the expression on his face didn’t change. Sometimes, he wished Teague would’ve learned sign language like the others. Admittedly, Hudson had been floored when Dare insisted that they were going to learn sign language so that they could overcome the communication barrier between them. It had taken him completely by surprise, and in a way, it had made him feel more welcome at the marina than he’d felt anywhere in his life.
Only Teague had purposely avoided learning, which meant the only way they could communicate was if Hudson wrote out the words or sent them via text. He opted for the latter, grabbing his phone as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk.
He typed out the same words: And then?
Teague peered down at his phone when the message came in. “I fucking hate this shit,” he mumbled under his breath.
Hate what shit?
“That I can’t fucking talk to you.”
You’re doing a good job now.
Hudson knew it was uncomfortable for a lot of people that he couldn’t talk. He’d experienced so many strange situations over the years because he was mute. Some people assumed he was also deaf, so they chose not to talk to him at all. A couple of people had made that assumption and then spoken aloud their real feelings, which had both amused and infuriated Hudson at the same time. He’d put many people in their place when he responded to what they said via writing down his thoughts or typing them out. When he was younger, he would often call them on it, which made things even more awkward. These days, Hudson pretended not to notice most of the time.
“What do you want from me?” Teague dropped his hands and stared directly at him. Hudson could see the frustration in the kid’s steel-blue eyes.
I gave you my offer.
“But you haven’t acted on it,” Teague retorted after he read the text.
Not my place. I told you what you needed to do.
Hudson watched Teague closely.
“I quit drinking. What fucking more do you want?”
I’m proud of you.
He didn’t mean it as condescension—he was really fucking proud of him; it couldn’t be easy—but clearly Teague took it that way. That was one of the major issues with “talking” through text messages. People assumed what they wanted to when they read the message. They could “hear” emotions that weren’t there.
“Fuck you.”
Hudson smiled. He couldn’t help himself. For the past week, Teague had been a little off. Not quite as combative as Hudson was used to. And during the two years
However, this time the newcomer wasn’t a customer, so rather than have a confrontation with Teague, he decided to go back to his office to take care of the paperwork he’d been working on.
“Are you purposely ignoring me?” Teague blurted as he stepped into the office a few seconds later.
Keeping his expression neutral, Hudson glanced up at him. He’d been waiting for Teague to come to him, to tell him whether or not he was going to take him up on his offer, only that hadn’t happened. Even after the night of the fireworks, when they’d shared a moment—and yes, no matter what either of them wanted to say, they had shared a moment—Teague hadn’t confronted him. Possibly a record for the kid.
Rather than answer, Hudson gave Teague his undivided attention, watching him closely.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” Teague grumbled, his hands going to his hips. “One night you barge into my apartment, kiss the fuck out of me, offer to fuck my brains out, and then…”
And then?
Teague stared at Hudson’s hands as he signed the two words, but the expression on his face didn’t change. Sometimes, he wished Teague would’ve learned sign language like the others. Admittedly, Hudson had been floored when Dare insisted that they were going to learn sign language so that they could overcome the communication barrier between them. It had taken him completely by surprise, and in a way, it had made him feel more welcome at the marina than he’d felt anywhere in his life.
Only Teague had purposely avoided learning, which meant the only way they could communicate was if Hudson wrote out the words or sent them via text. He opted for the latter, grabbing his phone as he leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk.
He typed out the same words: And then?
Teague peered down at his phone when the message came in. “I fucking hate this shit,” he mumbled under his breath.
Hate what shit?
“That I can’t fucking talk to you.”
You’re doing a good job now.
Hudson knew it was uncomfortable for a lot of people that he couldn’t talk. He’d experienced so many strange situations over the years because he was mute. Some people assumed he was also deaf, so they chose not to talk to him at all. A couple of people had made that assumption and then spoken aloud their real feelings, which had both amused and infuriated Hudson at the same time. He’d put many people in their place when he responded to what they said via writing down his thoughts or typing them out. When he was younger, he would often call them on it, which made things even more awkward. These days, Hudson pretended not to notice most of the time.
“What do you want from me?” Teague dropped his hands and stared directly at him. Hudson could see the frustration in the kid’s steel-blue eyes.
I gave you my offer.
“But you haven’t acted on it,” Teague retorted after he read the text.
Not my place. I told you what you needed to do.
Hudson watched Teague closely.
“I quit drinking. What fucking more do you want?”
I’m proud of you.
He didn’t mean it as condescension—he was really fucking proud of him; it couldn’t be easy—but clearly Teague took it that way. That was one of the major issues with “talking” through text messages. People assumed what they wanted to when they read the message. They could “hear” emotions that weren’t there.
“Fuck you.”
Hudson smiled. He couldn’t help himself. For the past week, Teague had been a little off. Not quite as combative as Hudson was used to. And during the two years
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