Synister: The Push Series - Book 1 (20 page)

“Synister. Come to me. Please.” Her voice was lost and present, like the loudest crack of thunder during a storm and the softest rain on a summer night.

“Are you sure baby girl? I don’t want to hurt you.” The words caught in my throat. She needed me but I was scared. Scared of hurting her, of hurting myself.

“Syn. I need you.” That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Or should I say, the straw that released my dick from the denim and boxer prison he was currently confined in. Placing my thumbs on the waistband of her boy shorts, I gave the slightest tug and watched as Brooklyn lifted her glorious body to me.

With Brooklyn completely exposed, I saw a beauty I never knew existed for me. Here in front of me was a woman that loved me for me. Every secret and scar were beautiful in her eyes. Brooklyn knew me like no one did, not even Scottie. In her soulful eyes I was no longer a broken man. I had been made whole. Pain hit me so hard in my heart that I brought my hand to my chest. There, on my bed, was my world, my life, my very existence. Sure, I was still going deaf. Brooklyn still had her demons to fight and battles to win. But in that moment we were perfect. Leaning forward I intended to only kiss her quickly and then proceed with losing what now seemed like a ridiculous amount of clothing. When her lips met mine it was like electricity was buzzing through my veins. Every moment, every helpless night that I begged for her to save me collided in that kiss. In a mess of tangled limbs my jeans and boxers ended up bunched at my ankles like a teenage getting his first piece of ass.

With my now weeping dick resting on her stomach I waited for her to say it was okay. I needed Brooklyn to be okay, to make the next move. When she removed her lips from mine and opened her eyes there was a moment of fear, of hesitation. That fucking evaporated so quickly when she tilted her head to the side and rasped, “I have been waiting over a decade for this moment. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Ladies and gentleman, we have lift off!

Not another second was wasted. I gripped her hips and pulled her underneath me. Placing a kiss on each one of her nipple I teased them ever so gently with my tongue. Brooklyn let out a moan that could wake the dead as she wrapped her legs around me. In one movement I gently eased into the most delicious woman. Inch by inch, I took what was ours, sealing together a love that was earned, not taken. Making love to Brooklyn, feeling every drag of her fingernails across my back as she reached her climax, the way she licked her lips and whispered my name was mind blowing. A mixture of sweat, metal, and ink, our bodies collided in perfect friction. I brushed her hair from her beautiful face, and sealed her lips on mine.

Watching her come undone beneath me brought tears to my eyes. Still moving inside her, I could feel my release rushing through every nerve, lighting tiny fires under my skin. I felt her thumb brush across my cheeks, wiping away tears not of sadness but of understanding. In that tender moment everything exploded. Light flashed behind my eyes, my heart raced in the captivity of my chest, as I made her mine.

I vowed to love her every day like it was our last. To never let a moment go by where she wondered how beautiful she was. Brooklyn Reigns was my heart. I knew now, if nothing else, that no one could break us. When I breathed my last breath on this earth I would do so with a smile on my face because she had loved me.

Life

It was exactly fifty-six days from my last show with Push when the world went quiet. That was a long night. I sat at my drum set in my home studio just staring at my sticks as they lay there. Unmoving, no sound, no life left in them. It was impossible to not feel like the depth of my solitude would consume me. As the reality sank in, I noticed Brooklyn out of the corner of my eye. Her mouth was not moving, but the words were written in her eyes. She brought her hands up in front of her and signed
I love you.
Those intimate moments together were worth every minute that we had fought for us.

The worst part about going deaf was not hearing her voice when she told me she loved me. Or hearing her gasps during moments of pleasure. It wasn't only the music. Fuck, I missed the music. However, the music I would remember. I found that I could
hear
the songs in my head. That I could replay chords and choruses over and over in my mind like my own personal radio channel. I was able to adjust in some ways better than others. When you lost a part of your life that had been your everything since you were a kid, it was a pain that I could never describe. But in that loss, I found a new way to love. Not just with the music, but with Brooklyn, too. Whenever Push came to Vegas, we were at every show, front and center stage. The new drummer was cool, but I would be lying if I didn't say that he would ever have the same spark that I had with the band. Most drummers faded away once the concert began. With Push, I was every bit the entertainer as Scottie. I guess we were lucky that way.

Now when we went to shows, I got to experience the music in a completely different way. I would close my eyes and let the sounds pulsate through my body. God, I had missed so much of the experience of music by only listening to it. It sounded asinine to think, but the vibrations of the bass and the drums—there was so much more to the music than, well, the music.

Watching Brooklyn at a show was paradise. The way her eyes lit up at her favorite song, the sway of her hips, and the contact of her body on mine when the tempo changed. It was a mix of erotica and pleasure, our own secret song that nothing, not even being deaf, could take from us.

Over time, I became content with the lot I was dealt. Brooklyn, however, would not rest until she found an alternative for me. A way for me to hear again. To play music again. During my first appointment with the doctor for cochlear implants, I felt more like a lab rat than a human being. I just said to her,
Fuck this. You are not drilling into my head like I am a cyborg
.

Brooklyn just laughed and signed back,
Sorry, I couldn't hear you. Did you say you love me? Stop being a baby
.

After several appointments, I finally conceded to the procedure. Truthfully, I wasn't that hard to convince. I just had to make her work for it. I was going to do this on my terms, if there was any other way. The operation went well, and when we scheduled the appointment to have my “new
ears” turned on, that was when the nerves set in. I had given the nurse specific instructions, and we reviewed them probably a million times. Brooklyn was to be the first voice I heard once the devices were activated. I was not going to have my hearing restored to the sounds of some insignificant voice. No. I wanted my baby girl’s voice to fill my ears when the world came back in tune.
If
the world came back. Thankfully, the nurse was a good sport, but I was sure she was tired of me. Too damn bad. How many times in life do you get to experience something for the first time more than once?

The day of the appointment, Brooklyn was cool as a cucumber. I, on the other hand, was a mess. It had been two weeks since the surgery, and I was given the all clear to have the device activated. What if it didn’t work? What if I hated it? What if the sounds weren’t the same?

I watched as Brooklyn did her hair. The meticulous way she applied her makeup to cover the scar that was barely visible. As she moved with purpose and determination in our bedroom, I threw on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and my Docs and decided to wait in the car. After arriving at the doctor’s office, we were taken back to a room, and the nurse signed,
Just a few more minutes.

When my doctor opened the door, Brooklyn signed to me,
Are you ready?

All I could sign back was,
more than I will ever be.
There was a flurry of movement around me. Things were being hooked up and adjusted, and on more than one occasion, I thought about giving up. Every time I was at the end, I saw the hope in Brooklyn’s eyes and knew if I couldn’t go on for myself, I needed to find a way for her. She had fought so hard to come back to me, and I could do the same for her.

I began to get nervous, and she picked up on it right away. I felt her hand on my shoulder. Brooklyn was standing behind me, and I was seated in a chair. She was not allowed to stand where I could see her to make sure I wasn’t reading her lips. I saw the nurse give the thumbs-up, and I heard a buzzing noise in my ears. This was not something uncommon, as it was a signal to me for months that my hearing was deteriorating more and more. And then finally it was gone. The buzzing. The noise. My music. My life. As weird as it sounded, hearing that buzzing in my ears was an oddly familiar and comforting distraction.

As I looked around the room, there was a strange sense of calm, excitement, and fear mixed together. When Brooklyn’s fingers traveled up my neck, I smelled her perfume and knew she was even closer than before. As her lips brushed my ear lobe, there was nothing that could prepare me for what would happen next. With my eyes squinted, I hoped that she hadn’t already spoken and the surgery didn’t work. Maybe it hadn’t been a success. The realization that I would eternally be reduced to silence was enough to send my stomach into somersaults. And then, like the rising of the sun, it was right in front of me…or behind me. Hell, it felt like her words were inside me.

“I love you, baby. Can you hear me?” In that moment, her words were the cure for cancer and world peace. They were everything to me. If I never heard another word or sound for as long as I lived, being able to hear her tell me she loved me one more time was enough to satisfy me for the rest of my days. As I turned to my left, there was no way I could fight back the tears. I just began shaking my head up and down, over and over. I forgot that I had words to use, and all the things I wanted her to hear, that I wanted to hear myself say to her. I had told her I loved her a million times over the years, but not being able to hear it, that cut into my heart every time.

“I can, Brooklyn. I can. I love you. Holy fuck, baby girl, I love you.” Standing up from the chair, I pulled her into the biggest hug and kissed her in a completely inappropriate way given the size of the audience. When I grabbed her ass and lifted her in the air, she put her legs around me and the kiss continued. I thought the sound of her voice would break me it was so beautiful. But when the sound of clapping from the doctors, nurses, and God knows who else was witness to our show filled my senses, I was taken back to all those years on stage. Every encore, every crowd. The sounds of those dozen people were louder, and in that moment meant more to me than every standing ovation I had every received.

And just like that, the meteor collided with the sun.

The End

I am broken

Pieces to a puzzle that will never fit

A clock without time

A soul without meaning

A man without a purpose

You are like the sun

A center I cannot find