I am shameless using JE's creation below.

Jenny (JenRar) thank you once again for your work as the beta on this chapter. You are making this story so much more fun.

Chapter 9 – Unexpected Bumps in the Road

I opened up the apartment and was instantly hit with two things. One, Ella had already dropped of dinner, and it smelled of Italian flavors with marinara and garlic, assaulting my nose the second I walked across the threshold. Typically, Ella only made heavy Italian food when Stephanie needed a little comfort, so I was on edge. This led me to my second discovery; there was the soft sound of crying coming from the bedroom.

I think it goes without saying that no man likes to know his woman is crying, and I was no exception to this rule. But I don't object for the typical reasons. Most guys panic when they see a woman crying because they're uncomfortable with any kind of feelings, and the abundance of emotions so strong that someone is reduced to weeping is foreign enough, they have no clue how to react.

While I don't like seeing Stephanie upset, it doesn't unnerve me to the point that I'm unsure of how to react. Comforting her is as natural to me as breathing, and when I sense that she is in pain, my body responds as much as my heart does to pull her to me and hold her close so that despite whatever has happened, she will know she isn't alone.

But something in the sound of her crying now put me on edge. She left this morning happy to be getting out, ready to have fun with her friends, trying to assert some independence. If her fun day was ruined because of some insensitive sales person, or a run-in with some jerk from the 'Burg, then I was going to have a hard time staying on seven tonight, instead of exacting a little justice on behalf of the tears soaking her pillow.

I slipped off my boots and placed my keys in the dish on the table by the door. I stopped by the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water, before checking the container being kept warm in the oven to confirm that it was chicken parmesan with lots of sauce and cheese. Steph would be in heaven eating her way through that.

I stepped into the bedroom, and my chest tightened. Her pain was so thick in the room, I could swear I felt it hitting me, as well. Stephanie was lying on her stomach with her head on her pillow, holding my pillow in her arms, as though trying to make it a substitute for me.

I walked over to her side of the bed and brushed away her hair, which was covering her face and absorbing the tears as they fell. Her eyes shot open, and when they focused on me, she jumped up and flung herself into my arms. I cradled her to me, rubbing my hands on her back in what I hoped were soothing circles, just letting her cry out whatever she had bottled up inside her.

Time passed slowly, as it always does when someone you love is suffering. I found myself talking to her in Spanish as I had done for so long, it was now an ingrained habit, and then stopped abruptly when I realized not only did she not understand Spanish, but she couldn't hear me at all, which made my words useless.

Stephanie pulled back and swiped at her eyes, as though drying her face would somehow make the fresh tears stop falling. "Why did you stop talking?"

I turned my head slightly, trying to understand what she meant. "You could hear me?"

She shook her head no. "I could feel the vibration in your chest and liked the way it felt. It reminded me of all the times you would speak to me in Spanish. I couldn't understand you, but I loved the way it sounded."

"You can feel it when I talk?" I knew my questions were making me sound like an idiot, but I needed to understand what she was saying.

"If I'm really close, like we just were, then I can feel it when you breathe, and when you hum or talk. It rumbles against my skin, and I like it. It's…comforting – familiar," she tried to explain, and while I understood her in principle, I had a feeling it was more significant to her than she was able to communicate.

I touched her face – I'd always felt the need to be in contact with her, but even more so since her injury – and asked, "Can you tell me why you're upset?"

She nodded and took a deep breath, pulling herself together in a way that made me proud. There was always a place here for her to safely fall apart when she needed to, but her strength to not wallow in things like this and to harness some hidden pool of strength amazed me.

"I had a great time at the bonds office with the girls. Lula got the hang of talking slow enough that I could read her lips most of the time, and she didn't mind writing down whatever I still couldn't get. She's picked up a few new words that threw me, but after half an hour, we were doing well. Connie couldn't leave, since Vinnie wasn't there, so Lula and I went to the mall for lunch to eat in the food court, and then do some shopping."

So far, it sounded like the perfect day for her, which worried me even more about what must have happened to take her from what she'd just described to the way I'd found her just moments ago.

"Nobody messed with us while we were eating, even though we recognized a few people, and when we were done, we headed to Macy's. We both found some things we liked, and while we were in line to check out, Joyce Barnhardt and her cousin Louise approached us. Louise was a year older than me in school, and she is to Mary Lou what Joyce is to me."

I had no idea what that meant, so I squeezed Stephanie's wrist before she moved on to let her know she'd lost me.

"Lenny and Mary Lou broke up briefly at the beginning of our junior year in high school. They had a fight like everybody does at some point, and just before a home football game, they called it quits. Lenny responded like every seventeen-year-old boy would and started drinking. Mary Lou cried on my shoulder, and then decided that she was being silly; she'd rather fight with him than be miserable without him, so she started asking around and found out he'd gone to the far side of the field, where there was an equipment storage shack. She wanted to surprise him, so she snuck up to the building, and then popped around the corner to see him pushed against the brick by Louise Barnhardt, who was sticking her tongue far enough down his throat to take a strep throat sample."

I couldn't picture Lenny with anyone but Mary Lou. We hadn't spent a lot of time together, but there were some couples that just belonged together, and they were definitely one such example.

"Mary Lou started throwing things at both of them, pegging Louise with some football pads with enough force that the hard edge hit her near the eye and gave her a gash a couple of inches long that she still carries as a scar. And since that day, those two have never been able to stand the sight of each other."

That made sense, but I was still clueless about how she'd gone from seeing a woman she didn't like to crying on the bed.

"Anyway, they came up behind us, but I couldn't hear them, so ignoring them was simple. Unfortunately, Lula heard every word, and when Joyce used the words 'charity case and her oversized sidekick,' Lula snapped. I had to turn around then, and realized Joyce was saying that she knew I couldn't hear and that you and I were together only because you felt sorry for me. She said that you'd keep me around out of duty, but that you'd always have a piece on the side so that you could have fun. Then she said something to Lula that I didn't catch, but it ended with Lula tackling her and security escorting us all out of the mall."

I appreciated Lula coming to Stephanie's defense, but it was obvious that if she'd ignored them like Stephanie had been, this day might have ended much differently.

"I pulled Lula along and told her we'd go to some other stores and to forget about the Barnhardt bitches, but Lula couldn't let it go. Finally, I just gave up and took her back to Vinnie's, but I wasn't ready to come back, so I went to the mall again, figuring since I was alone, Joyce and Louise could say anything they wanted to, and I wouldn't have to listen. I wasn't going to let them take away my chance to shop."

God, her determination and courage was such a turn-on. My hand let go of her wrist and began to move from her knee to the top of thigh, before returning back down her leg. I loved her strength, and seeing how she refused to bend to the desperate actions of another woman impressed me.

"I was having a good time trying on shoes at Macy's, when I started to feel uncomfortable for no apparent reason. I figured it was because I was alone, so I ignored it and pressed on, until a security guard came over and touched my shoulder and told me I was going to have to leave. I asked why, and he said I was creating a disturbance. Joyce and Louise were back and were making a scene. Some people I recognized had their phones out, snapping pictures, and the Barnhardts were hurling insults at my back. I was humiliated."

Without thinking, I wondered aloud, "What kind of person insults another that can't hear it? It's a stunt that kids would pull in junior high."

"Yeah, well, Joyce has always hated me, even back in elementary school, so this is just another example of the exact kind of thing she's always done. I'd thought that when my hearing was gone, I would be immune to this kind of thing, but it seems like I'm even more of a laughingstock. This isn't my fault, but I have to pay for it anyway. It's not fair."

While her words were right, it wasn't fair and it wasn't her fault, I knew this outburst was about more than just being accosted at the mall. She had been stronger than I thought possible through the adjustments to life without her hearing, and because of that, she hadn't really grieved the loss of a major sense. While most of what she was feeling was because of the scene at the mall, some of it was mourning what she had lost in general. Because of that, I also knew that Steph wasn't going anywhere alone again for quite some time. She may not know it, but I'd have someone shadowing her anytime she left the building from now on.

I tried to pull her back to me, but she stiffened, refusing to allow herself to receive the comfort I was offering. "Are you going to keep me around out of pity? I mean, I know you said you loved me before this happened, but we might have fought and broken up over the course of getting to know each other better, but now you might feel stuck with me... Do you feel stuck with me?"

This train was quickly derailing from anger to hysteria, and I had no intention of letting her go down this track. "No!" I yelled the words, needing her to understand the force of what I meant, even if the volume was useless to her ears.

Then I lifted one of her hands and flattened it against my chest, covering it with my fingers. "Listen to me," I commanded solemnly. "I told you forever, and I meant it. I'll be glad to remind you every day for the rest of our lives, but you have to let go of the idea that I'd keep you around out of pity. I keep you around out of love and devotion and because I need you. You need to find a way to hear my voice instead of people like Joyce when you start to have doubts. Feel me now, to know how serious I am... I'm not letting you go, and it's not because you can't hear; it's because I can't make it without you."

She stared at me, and I let her. I didn't offer anymore words, because I didn't think rambling would help at the moment. Instead, I let her search my face and my eyes for whatever clues she needed to know that what I was saying was true. I knew she'd found what she was searching for when her shoulders dropped slightly and the tension melted from her body.

"I'm sorry; I just wasn't prepared for her today. I thought I'd be okay, and now, it's like I've got a target on my back and it's not even safe for me to go shopping. I've never been in a position where I had money to spend and couldn't spend it," she commented.

"Like Pretty Woman," I replied, grateful that there were no microphones in my apartment for the guys to hear that Julia Roberts reference.

She grinned at the mention of the movie. "Exactly," she agreed.

I glanced at the clock behind her and saw there were still a couple of hours before the mall closed. "Do you want to go shopping now?" I offered, willing to endure a few hours of her trying on clothes or shoes if it helped to erase the memory of the day. I seriously doubted that Joyce would still be there, but if she did surface, I knew there was no way I'd let her get close enough to Stephanie to upset her again.

"That is the sweetest offer ever," she said, beaming, "but I think twice in one day is enough for me. I'm not willing to swing and risk a third strike."

"It could be a home run, Babe," I teased.

Her eyes instantly changed from a sad dull blue to a deep midnight color, and she replied, "I'd love to hit a home run tonight, Batman, so why don't we have our dinner, and you can show me how you work around the bases?"

She moved off the end of the bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen up, while I sat there trying to figure out how we went from being upset over being bullied in the mall to the discussion of foreplay. I could say a lot of things about living with Stephanie, but I would never describe her as predictable.

I was vaguely aware that she'd slipped out of the bathroom and out to the kitchen for dinner, while I was frozen to my spot on the edge of the bed, mulling over the phrase that had passed through my mind – living with Stephanie. Right now, I guessed we were still just temporarily staying together. She'd come home from the hospital with me because she couldn't be released to stay alone, but technically, there was no reason I could give for why she had to be here now. Well, no reason except for the fact that if she left, I would follow her, because there was no way I was staying anywhere without her.

With that thought, I walked into the kitchen just in time to hear her moan while licking some cheese from her finger. She smiled at my purposeful approach and intentionally sucked on her finger hard enough to draw in her cheeks slightly. I knew what I wanted to say needed to be thrown out there quickly before the images of what else I wanted to see her suck on overtook my remaining brain cells.

"Move in with me," I blurted out, cringing at how it sounded like a command, which I knew was risky with Stephanie.

"I'm already here," she replied offhandedly, as though not realizing what I was really asking.

"No, I mean officially. I want this to be our apartment, I want the Batcave to be our house, our home. I want you to live with me permanently," I tried to clarify, realizing I still wasn't asking her. I was all but informing her of my will, and I knew it was risky.

She looked at me for a moment, before asking, "Are you serious?"

"You came here from the hospital, but we never clarified it was just because you needed someone to look after you, or how long you would stay. I don't want there to be any confusion about where we stand. I love having you here. This apartment feels like a home to me with you in it. Would you be willing to live with me?" There, I'd finally managed to put a question in there so that she could decide for herself.

She looked uncertain, as though this were a difficult decision. I didn't want to doubt myself, but it suddenly hit me that there was a real chance she might say no. I refused to give into the panic of what I'd do if she refused to live with me, but the longer it took her to answer, the more I felt it rise. Had I misinterpreted what this was between us?

"Would you start to feel trapped if you knew I had nowhere to go if we didn't get along?" she questioned, giving me a little hope.

"No. I don't want either of us to have an escape if things get rough. We won't run away, no matter how hard it is. This would just be making what's already happening official," I countered.

"But we haven't been together that long," she argued. I guess the 'Burg rules of right and wrong were harder to step away from than I'd hoped.

"We've not been together in such a serious way long, but we've been moving toward this day for over three years now," I argued. "By some standards, we've been dragging our feet."

She took a step closer, and I copied her movement to close the gap. "Are you sure? If all my stuff comes over, you're stuck with me. I hate moving, and I don't want to do it more than once." She was trying to be tough and threatening, but it made me laugh anyway.

"I think the correct way to word it is that if you move in, you're stuck with me, because once you get here, I'm not letting you go." I turned it around on her, making her smile again.

She put her hand over my heart as I'd placed it there earlier. "Let's sleep on it, and if you're sure you want me here, I'll go over to my old apartment tomorrow and see if there is anything salvageable."

"I could have the guys do it for you," I offered, willing to do anything to make this happen immediately.

"No, it's my place and my stuff. I want to be the one to sort through it," she asserted, making it clear this wasn't negotiable. I'd gotten the call a couple of days ago that the fire marshal was done with his investigation and had declared the units to be safe for cleaning and repairs, except for a few areas that were roped off. Dillon, her building superintendant, had said they wouldn't be livable for a couple of months as they brought in contractors to knock out the rubble that remained and looked to rebuild. But he did suggest she might have some salvagable items if she were patient enough to sift through the grime.

"Can we do it together?" I offered, wanting to be there when she saw the destruction of her apartment for the first time.

"No, I doubt there is much that can be brought over. I just want to check it out on my own. I promise if there's any heavy lifting involved, I'll call for help," she suggested, letting me know this was where I needed to drop it.

I was still determined to keep a guy shadowing her, but I would inform him to stay hidden unless she called for help. I knew that concession was as much for my peace of mind as it was for her safety, but the longer we were together, the more I knew there was nothing I wouldn't do for her.

I let it drop, having to content myself with the fact that it appeared Stephanie and I were taking our relationship to the next level of living together beginning tomorrow. Somehow, I thought it would be a more difficult decision to make, something I might fight for a long time, but with Stephanie, it was as simple as thinking it one moment and being ready to beg for it the next.

We had an easy dinner and talked through most of it. A tablet and a pen were in every room of the house, courtesy of Ella's thoughtfulness, so if there was anything she couldn't figure out and I couldn't sign, I could write it down so our conversation could continue to flow.

When we stood at the sink to clean up for dinner, I remembered my conversation with my father and knew I needed to tell her now so she'd have a couple of days to prepare for it. I touched her shoulder to get her attention and told her, "I spoke to my father today, and he and my mother have invited us to their house for dinner on Saturday. It will just be them, us, and Abuela Rosa. Would you be willing to come with me?"

She smiled at my question, probably congratulating herself on teaching me to ask, instead of commanding it. Perhaps I should have been insulted at the idea, but I found that if it brought her a little amusement, I couldn't hold it against her.

"What do they know about me?" she asked.

"They've known about you for years, despite my trying to keep you from them. They remembered meeting you at the hospital when I was shot, but there were so many people there and they were focused on my prognosis, so they didn't get to talk to you as they would have liked." I knew I was skirting what she really wanted to know. "Basically, they know we were friends for years and that we've recently become more than that."

"What are they like?" she asked, drying her hands to show she wasn't interested in washing dishes right now.

"They are both hopeless romantics who love that I stand up for what is right in the world, but prefer not to think about exactly what I do to accomplish that. But they are both very excited about meeting you, and this might be our only chance for you to meet them without the craziness of all my siblings, their spouses, and children present to turn it into a zoo." I knew I was over exaggerating, that if I asked, I was sure my parents would host us alone again, but I wanted her to meet everyone so she would know more about me.

"Do they know about my hearing?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"Yes, I told Papi on the phone, and he had lots of questions, wanting to be sure they knew how to make you most comfortable," I explained, hoping she didn't resent being discussed like that.

"I'd like to meet them," she added, still sounding as though she were thinking it through. Then her voice changed a little, and I knew her thoughts were coming out unfiltered. "Crap, what if they don't like me? We move in together one day, and a couple of days later, his parents tell him they don't approve of his choice. That's a horrible position to force Ranger into."

I put my hand on her should to stop her rant. "They'll love you. They already do. Anyone that could inspire me to pick up the phone and call them to see if we could come over has done what they thought was impossible. They will accept you and the two of us together, trust me."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"But if we're going to my parents' house, there is one thing you're going to have to change," I warned her, instantly putting her back on edge.

"What?" Her hands went up to her hair, as though trying to control it, thinking there was something about her appearance that I was going to object to.

I grabbed her hands to let her know I loved the way she looked. "You can't call me Ranger in my parents' house. They gave me a name – a family name – and they wouldn't understand why someone I love doesn't use it."

"But that's how I was introduced to you and what everyone here calls you, so it's all I know," she explained.

I kissed her forehead, and then pulled back so she could see my lips. "The people that I love – those closest to me, like my family – call me Carlos. I think if we are talking about forever, you should consider using that name, as well."

"You want me to call you Carlos?" she asked, sounding shocked.

Every time I went to Newark, I was surrounded by women calling me Carlos, and I answered to it out of conditioning. It was nothing special...just a name. But when I heard it come out of Stephanie's mouth, it took on so much more meaning. My arms tightened around her on reflex, and I had to force my lips to stay away from her so that she could see them as I responded.

"Yes, I want you to call me Carlos. And hearing you say it makes me curious about something."

Her eyes were growing darker as I spoke. "What are you curious about?"

"How it would sound if you screamed it," I told her, giving her what she used to call my wolfish grin.

"I don't scream just for the hell of it," she teased in return. "If you want to hear your name ringing in your ears, you'll have to earn it."

Holy hell, there were few things that an Alpha male like me enjoyed more than a challenge to conquer, and she had thrown down a gauntlet that I couldn't refuse. She might not have her hearing, but her vocal chords worked just fine. And so help me, by the time she went to sleep tonight, I was going to see to it that they were just as exhausted as the rest of her.