Sheryl Lister - A Touch Of Love

His eyes widened when he noticed Khalil and he pushed through the crowd. He dropped to his knees in his expensively tailored slacks, concern evident in his face. “Khalil, are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

Lexia laid a hand on his arm. “He can’t hear you.”

He whipped his head around. “What do you mean he can’t hear me?”

“The blast. I think it damaged his hearing. He told me he couldn’t hear anything.”

He cursed and whipped out his cell phone. He snapped at a 911 operator who, apparently, wasn’t responding to his satisfaction. “Well, how long is it going to take? My brother is lying in the street injured.”

Lexia understood where he was coming from. She felt just as helpless. Finally, four fire trucks and a number of paramedics descended on the scene. “They’re here.”

He glanced up, mumbled something that sounded like a thank-you and disconnected the call. “I’ll be right back.” He stood.

“Brandon.” Khalil tried to sit up and moaned again.

Brandon stopped and placed a hand on Khalil’s shoulder. “Whoa. Don’t try to get up.” He turned to Lexia. “Make sure he doesn’t move.”

She nodded.

Khalil rolled his head in her direction. “Brandon is bossy as hell,” he whispered. “I don’t have to hear to know what’s he’s about to do. Don’t let him piss off the paramedics. Otherwise, they’ll leave me lying on this sidewalk all damn day.”

Lexia smiled and nodded. She glanced up in time to see Brandon pointing in their direction and standing over the paramedic, with a heavy scowl—just as Khalil predicted—until the man followed. She and Brandon moved off to the side while the medic assessed Khalil.

A moment later, another medic joined them with a gurney. The first one spoke to Brandon. “By his shallow breathing and pain when I barely press on the area, I’d say he has a couple of broken ribs.”

“And he can’t hear,” Lexia added.

“Thanks,” the medic said. “I’ll make sure to let them know at the hospital.” He nodded to the other paramedic and they carefully transferred Khalil to the gurney.

Brandon stepped forward. “I’m coming with him.”

His tone and the look on his face let Lexia know he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently the paramedic realized it, as well, and nodded.

“Are you coming?”

She glanced over at Khalil then up at Brandon. As much as she wanted to go, Lexia didn’t think it was her place. “No. But can you please let me know how he’s doing?”

“I will. Thanks for being here with him.” He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, then left.

She wrapped her arms around her middle and watched as they loaded Khalil into the ambulance and drove off.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Lexia turned at the sound of Sam’s voice. “I think so. But the blast damaged his ears. He can’t hear.”

Sam brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh no.”

She recalled the split second of vulnerability she’d seen and her emotions swelled once more.

“Come on, Lexi. I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

Lexia took one last glance around and nodded. On the way, she spied Khalil’s phone. She had no problems recognizing it because of the distinctive custom case featuring his gym’s logo. She picked it up and brushed off the debris. Other than a few cracks on the face, the phone seemed to be intact. Inside, she froze upon seeing Cameron sweeping up glass from the shattered window. Tears welled in her eyes. This was the man she knew—clean shaven, low-cut hair and neatly groomed appearance. He had on a pair of black khakis and a gray polo shirt.

Cameron paused with the broom. “You good, Lexi?”

“Yeah. You clean up nicely.”

He grinned. “I knew you were going to say that.” He shook his head and resumed the task, along with James, who had come out of the kitchen to help with the cleanup.

Jayla held up her phone. “It says it was a natural gas explosion. Two workers were killed and several others injured.” She looked down at the screen and read for a moment, then added, “This one is considered mild and could have been much worse.”

Lexia grabbed a towel and a trash bag and joined Samantha in clearing glass off the tables. She sighed. Mild or not, it would take a lot of work to repair the businesses damaged, including her own. Her heart went out to the families of the two workers and the rest of the people who had been injured. Automatically, her thoughts shifted to Khalil and how he was doing. It dawned on her that she hadn’t given Brandon her number and would most likely have to wait until he came to work tomorrow to find out any information. If he came in. She should have gone to the hospital.

* * *

Khalil slowly came awake, glanced around the room and saw his entire family. It took a moment before everything came rushing back and he realized he was lying in a hospital bed. He moved and pain shot through his midsection. He must have made a sound because his mother crossed the room in two strides and ran her hands critically over his face. His head throbbed, the loud ringing in his ears hadn’t stopped, his chest felt like someone was standing on it every time he breathed deeply—and he still couldn’t hear a sound. Khalil scanned their concerned faces. “I’m all right, Mom.” He frowned and gently pushed her hand away from the bandage on his temple. He saw all their mouths moving and an overwhelming sense of frustration surged inside him. Brandon raised his hand and got their attention and said something. Brandon obviously told them about Khalil’s hearing loss because all eyes turned Khalil’s way and his mother and two sisters, Siobhan and Morgan, started crying and rushed over to the bed. Even Faith had tears in her eyes. His father looked stricken.

Khalil leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes. This is all I need right now. He couldn’t stand to see them cry and bit back the urge to tell them all to leave. He sent his brothers and brothers-in-law a pleading glance. They gathered their wives, and together with his parents exited, leaving only his younger brother, Malcolm.

Malcolm pulled a chair close to the bed and sat. For the first few minutes, the pro football running back said nothing as if he knew Khalil needed a moment.

“I never could stand to see them cry.”

Malcolm took out his phone, typed something and handed it to Khalil.

He read: “Neither can I. What do you need me to do? Oh, and you should probably lower your voice.” Because he couldn’t hear himself, Khalil had no idea how to modulate his voice. “Is this better?” he asked in what he hoped was a softer sound.

He nodded.

“Did the doctor say how long I’d be like this?”

Malcolm took the phone, typed again and handed it back.

“Brandon said the doctor told him your eardrums were ruptured from the blast and the hearing loss could last a few days, months or, depending on the damage, longer. He mentioned referring you to a specialist.”

Khalil dropped the phone on his lap and cursed. What if his hearing didn’t come back? He couldn’t be deaf forever. The thought of never hearing his favorite song on the radio, the waves crashing against the shore while standing on his balcony or the laughter around the table at his family’s monthly dinners made the same panic he’d felt while lying on the sidewalk come back full force. He passed the phone back to his brother, who began typing again. Was there more? He knew about the broken ribs, slight concussion and sprained wrist, thanks to a nurse who had written the information down for him while in emergency. Khalil couldn’t imagine what else could be wrong and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Malcolm stood and held the phone close enough for Khalil to read.