Chapter Eighty-Six

John opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out as Ryan shone a light into the back of his throat. Ryan sighed, holding his hands close to John's neck as he waited for him to give the go-ahead to touch his throat. He smiled when John nodded, gently touching his fingers to John's larynx. "Try to hum." He felt John try to hum, his larynx flexing as he exhaled, but no sound was heard. Ryan repositioned his fingers, pressing on his Adams Apple. "Try again." John obeyed, jumping away from Ryan's touch as a sharp pain shot through his neck with a short cry. Ryan sat back, puzzled at what could be wrong. "I want to run some tests, but right now, I'd say that your vocal cords are strained from overuse." He looked up as Clarissa, patting John's knee as the teen settled back into his nest of blankets on the couch. "If that's the case, I think a couple weeks without speaking or making any other sounds should do the trick to get his voice back."

John pulled the blanket farther up on his shoulders, resting his head on Claire's lap. He closed his eyes as she brushed her fingers through his hair, parting a small section into three pieces and weaving a short braid into the silky locks. "Do you want your tea?" She asked, rubbing a hand over the aching muscles in his back and shoulders.

He nodded, taking his mug from her and sipping on the peppermint liquid inside.

Amelia skipped into the kitchen, playing with the cotton wraps that John always wore when he hit his heavy bag. She turned to John, holding her hand out for his inspection on her attempt. "Is that good?" She asked, watching as he shook his head, slowly sitting up and taking her hand in his. His rough hands gently unwrapped her palm, pulling the wrap tighter on her wrist before lacing it through her fingers. He held his own hand up, stretching his fingers out as far as he could to tell her to copy him. She nodded, fanning her fingers as wide as they would go as he wrapped the cotton around her knuckles a few times and secured the end with the Velcro patches. He held his hand up to her, tapping his palm trying to tell her to hit his hand.

She looked up at him, knowing that he didn't like being touched most days, and that if she hit him, he might get hurt again. "I don't want to hurt you."

John gripped her wrist, bringing her fist to his palm insisting that she try.

She shook her head, pulling away as he reached for her hand again. "Uh uh." She pulled the wrap off, dropping it as she ran to her room.

John picked the fabric up, looking at the family, his question of what he'd done clear in his eyes. He pushed himself up, walking after the child. He limped up the stairs, pausing when he reached her room to listen to what was going on inside.

Amelia wiped a tear from her cheek as she pushed the polaroid under her pillow, looking up as John pushed her door open. She watched as he walked into her room, launching herself toward him as he sat on her bed. She felt his hand brushing over the back of her hair, burying her face into the shallow valley between his pecs. "I don't want to hurt you." She mumbled, feeling John shake his head. She looked up at him, watching as he traced a scar over his side, the skin still purple from the wound. She met his eyes as he tapped the scar, nodding as if he were saying that hurt. "But I don't want to hurt you."

John pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes searching her room for something to help him speak. His eyes landed on the chalkboard he'd bought her, standing and picking up a piece of chalk. He pointed at Amelia, turning and writing what he was trying to tell her. "You could never hurt me." He looked at her, raising his brows to see if she understood.

She looked at her hands, crawling back over to her pillow and pulling out the old photo. "Claire gave me this. She said you didn't want it."

John took the picture from her, closing his eyes against the memory. He handed her the photo, turning back to the board to write what he needed to tell her. "I don't want to remember."

She tilted her head, looking down at the photo of John and Dominic as babies. "Why?"

He sighed, writing on the board again. "That was the last time I didn't have scars." He pointed to his smooth skin in the photo, tracing the fingers of his other hand over his abs, hips, and chest, showing her the ropes of tissue branded into his skin. "I don't want to see what I used to look like." He wrote on the board, smiling as Amelia nodded.

She wrapped her arms around his hips, giving him a hard squeeze. "I like how you look."

John smiled, kneeling down to look Amelia in the eye. He guided her hands to his ribs, showing her how thin he was and how his bones still stuck out.

She grinned, running her fingers over his chest. "I think you look good. And Aunt Claire really likes how you look."

John shook his head, insisting that he was too thin by returning her hands to his ribs as she tried to pull away.

Amelia looked up as Claire's voice floated into her room. "I really do like how you look." She smiled, wrapping her arms around his chest as he stood. "I think you're hot."

John dropped his head, pressing his lips to her mouth.

Claire moaned, her hand finding his as he traced his fingers over the curve of her hips. "God, I wish we were married."

John smirked, kissing her again and pushing her from Amelia's room, before leading her to his room. He left the door open, letting her know that he wasn't going to deflower her yet but only let her have some time alone with him.

Claire laid back on his pillows, smiling as his scent surrounded her. She closed her eyes, feeling John's strong arms wrap around her as she rolled onto her side to let him have more room beside her. She sighed as his scruffy chin rubbed against her neck, his lips like soft flower petals on her skin. She felt him pull her to his body, her hips matching the curve of his as they spooned. She placed her hand on his cheek, her fingers curling behind his neck to let him know she never wanted this moment to stop. His breath fanned over her cheek, his lips tracing the ridge of her ear as he nipped at her earring. "What are you doing?" She chuckled, turning her head to look at him as he stopped. "Well, don't stop."

He smirked, pressing his lips to hers. He pulled back as she turned over, pressing her hands on his chest as she returned his kiss. He pressed his hand over her heart, feeling how it was beating in time with his.

She held one hand over his, placing the other one over his heart. She felt the strong pulse under her hand, the rhythm comforting her as they separated. "I love you." She sighed, resting her head on his pillows as the warm waves of sleep began to pull at her.

He smiled, pressing one hand over his heart and the other to hers, trying to show that he loved her too. He kissed her head as she was slowly pulled under by sleep, happy that at least one of them would be able to sleep after the events of the night. That's my Sweets. He thought, listening to her breath as he closed his eyes against the light of his room. He pulled a thin blanket over them both, tucking most of it around Claire as she slept. I wish I was the man you deserved. He felt her shift closer, hugging her closer as she whimpered in her sleep. You deserve so much more than an addict like me. He heaved a sigh, resting his chin on her head as a fitful sleep claimed him.