My phone vibrates beside me on the couch and I look away from the TV, picking it up. I click on the text notification to open it and my lips immediately thin in irritation.

D: New runagate using an alias. Need all the original info by the end of the week.

Me: Ok.

I toss my phone away and go back to scowling at the television. Sometimes this shit gets messy and is more than I bargained for but I also have no choice. These guys may be using my skills but I need their databases so it's a win-win. I knew that getting into this.

Melanie has been living with me for a week now and so far I've been able to keep my job under wraps. I'm not sure how long I can keep it that way because she's too smart for her own good but I hope she doesn't find out. At least not until I walk away from this for good and I'm hoping that's sooner than later. I didn't realize how good I was with computer software until this job and how I just can't fucking crack it because I've never had this much trouble before. This might be the first time I ever felt challenged, especially to this degree. It's been months and still nothing but at least I'm getting closer, however slow the process is.

My phone vibrates again and I swear I almost fucking smash the thing but stop short seeing Melanie's name.

Melanie: Finished with dinner. Making a coffee run. Want?

Me: Sure. Whatever you're having.

She went out with her coworkers and invited me to tag along but I haven't been up for company these days. This week has been overwhelming to say the least. I can't believe how fucking different I feel talking and I don't mean that in a good way. Honestly, it's fucking me up. Every time I leave the house I feel like I'm being watched, like people know I talk now but am still too pussy stop being the mute, which is stupid and obviously not true. It's especially worse when I'm at Fighter's Den training and wondering if I should try talking to the guys. Every time I'm there I want to do it but I can't. Just can't. It pisses me off because is it really supposed to be this fucking hard? Am I supposed to have this much fucking doubt?

I've always envied the way people just...speak to one another. Striking up conversation at the cash register, ordering food at a restaurant, laughing out loud in the middle of the streets. It's such a small privilege that these people take for granted, that too often I've found myself wishing I was able to do. I'm finally getting there now and yet I feel so torn, like I need to slow down and speed up all at once. All of this confusion has managed to make me resent my ability to speak. I always envisioned that if I ever spoke one day, it would just fix everything. I built the idea of talking up in my head and the reality is so much harder, and doesn't at all live up to what I thought it would be, that I've started to resent my voice altogether.

"Damn it," I sigh and turn the TV off. I've tried watching three different movies already but I can't focus. I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore.

I feel like I'm failing myself, knowing I can talk to others but not actually doing it. Even if it's just Melanie I can talk to that's still one person more than I thought I was capable of speaking with. Clearly I have it in me so why the hell am I so scared? So stumped? I was five when Kane threatened me and held a knife to my throat. I was a fucking child. Now? From what I remember, if I ever came across him I'd easily overpower him both in height and in muscle. I could destroy that miserable piece of shit without working a sweat. I don't have to fear for my life or any of that shit he warned me about. So then why can't I just fucking talk? How can I expect a fucking future for myself if I hide in the silence?

I push off from the couch and walk to the kitchen, grabbing myself a glass of water and splashing some on my face for good measure. They always say that change is good, that with change comes better things. But what about getting to that new place? That journey from where you started to where you end up? Why doesn't anyone ever talk about how fucking hard it is and how it makes you feel like your life is falling apart when you're really just trying to get it together? That's the ironic part. That things have to break into pieces before you can click them into a new picture. That new picture sounds fucking great and all but the pieces that are strewn around and trying to find their way? They feel goddamn hopeless.

I hear the lock to my front door turning and lean back against the sink, trying to appear casual and not like I've been going out of my mind all fucking day. A few moments later, the sound of heels grow louder right before Melanie enters the kitchen. She smiles when she sees me and I swear, I can't fucking breathe. How is it possible for anyone to be this beautiful? My eyes skim her as fast as they can, taking in her black top and jeans paired with her leather jacket and Doc Martins. She looks as badass as she is and I can't help the way my mouth tugs up on one corner.

"Hey, big guy." She smirks, knowing damn well I'm checking her out. It's hard to look away from her lips that are painted a crimson red but I manage. My gaze meets her boastful one as she laughs under her breath. "Miss me?"

My earlier frustration dissipates and I hold back a smile. Her easygoing nature is too contagious for me to be worked up when she's around. Melanie calms the storm inside of me in a way she doesn't even know. She always says that I'm so level-headed and put together but I'm only like that with her. I'm a fucking piece of work otherwise.

"Bottoms up," She hands me a steaming cup of coffee identical to hers and I take it, immediately taking a sip. "Did you already have dinner?"

I nod. I prefer home cooked meals over takeout only because I actually get to make the food. It's the one thing in my life that actually calms me. Boxing and computer engineering take a fuck ton out of you and while I'm happy to deliver, passionate even, I need a way to unwind. I've been cooking for as long as I can remember. I had to learn because Gramps couldn't even boil water without burning it somehow.

"So, what'd you do while I was gone?" She asks and I shrug. Losing my mind isn't exactly the kind of answer I want to give. "You could have came with me to dinner, you know. My coworkers like you. I think they miss seeing you around the studio."

That gets me to snort lightly. Her coworkers are an interesting bunch. Cora and Lavender would usually be too busy gawking at me like they couldn't decide if I was scary or attractive, I'm pretty sure Corbin has a crush on me, and Titus likes to get into silent stand-offs with me because he thinks I'm challenging his authority. I think he's used to being the toughest guy in the room. Gia, Titus's wife, is the only one who treated me like any another person. She's also the one who caught me waiting outside Make Your Mark the day Melanie had her breakdown, got me me some food on her way back from her lunch break, and kept Titus distracted so he wouldn't kick me off his property. I can see why she's good for the man who looks like he has a permanent stick up his ass.

"Huh," Melanie narrows her eyes at me, snapping me out of it. "You're not talking."

Shit. She noticed. I don't think she realized earlier this morning before she left for work because she was still half-asleep but I haven't spoken a word to her all day. When I woke up today, I could tell something was off. I just knew that I wouldn't be able to talk, my throat pulsing as if warning me to stay quiet. I've been so in my head lately and put so much fucking pressure on myself to speak to the world that I think I've finally cracked. Things were simpler living life in silence but now it's too fucking overwhelming. I needed a break and as I made Melanie and I breakfast this morning, I decided I wouldn't talk for a while. It's just too fucking confusing. It feels like there's two Wolfes now; the mute and whoever the fuck the other one is. I don't know which of the two is most like me and I need time to find myself again because I feel so fucking lost.

"What happened?" She asks softly and I know my face must appear as intense as my thoughts. But how the hell do I explain them?

I wrack my brain for all the ASL lessons we did, trying to remember the sign for break. I think I remember so I go for it, moving my hands to sign the word. Melanie's eyes drop to watch and a frown immediately forms on her face.

"Break from what? Me?" Her tone is haughty but the vulnerability in her eyes says otherwise. I immediately shake my head and sign the word for talk. Her expression lifts, something like relief and understanding. Did she really fucking think I'd ever need a break from her? "You need a break from talking?"

I nod, crossing my arms and watching her expectantly. She comes to stand in front of me and tips her head back, watching me with clear calculation. She's a lot shorter than I am but that doesn't mean she's not scary as shit when she wants to be.

"How come? What's bothering you?"

Yeah, no fucking way I can sign the entire explanation. I've learned the basics of ASL and I can keep up in conversation but there's still a lot I don't know. I'm not fluent like she is, which is still a mystery to this day. Instead, I go to the whiteboard on the fridge that Melanie put up a few days ago to write down reminders for me when she leaves for work. It's another touch of hers that makes my house feel like a home. I scribble a brief explanation and step aside when I'm done, allowing Melanie to take my place so she can read it. I watch her sort of nervously as her mouth moves silently, reading the words. She does that all the time when she reads too. It's fucking cute.

"Makes total sense," She agrees and I feel a sense of relief that she's not upset or offended that I don't want to speak to her for a while. "You've spent almost your whole life not talking and then all of a sudden you're talking for a week straight. It's probably throwing you off and confusing the fuck out of you. You just have to find balance, big guy. The sky won't fall on you whether you choose to speak or not to speak. Sometimes you can do both and that's okay too."

I blink, digesting her words for what they are. She's right — I've been treating this whole situation as if I can only do one or the other. I don't know why I'm thinking that way. I guess I just think that once I start talking, all eyes will constantly be on me to make sure I don't stop. Hell, that's what I was on edge about all week. I kept wondering if me speaking was just a fluke and that my voice would go away again and I don't want everyone else wondering the same. I shouldn't give a shit though, should I?

My eyes go back to Melanie and I feel myself soften as always. There are times that I wonder why it's her of all people that finally got through to me but moments like these, where she understands me on a level I don't even understand myself, answer that question.

"Aw," Her mouth parts to reveal a cocky grin. "Look at you getting a hard-on just because I get you. I'm impressive, right?"

My lips fight a smile. She's so unapologetically full of it. As someone who's constantly fucking doubting himself, I admire that.

Once again, I can't seem to help myself. I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear and let my fingers graze her jaw. There's so many ways I wish I could touch her, touch her in ways I haven't touched other women. I wonder if it would bother her that I'm inexperienced or if she can even tell but she seems to like my touches just fine. Even now her eyes light up as I pull my hand back and she steps closer, reclaiming the distance I just put between us.

"So," She starts in a voice that's why too innocent and my eyes narrow back in suspicion. She visibly holds back her laughter at that. "Are you going to kiss me today?"

She's been doing this all week. Every time she asks me the same question and every time I have the same answer. Right now is no different and she frowns as I shake my head no. I'm not giving in just yet. I still don't know if I have her trust and there are still things I'm hiding from her so on principle alone, it would be fucked up if we got involved at this point. Instead, I slowly lean down and turn my head to press a kiss to her cheek, one that's dangerously close to the corner of her mouth. I feel her breath hitch in response and can't stop my smile because I undoubtedly get a kick out of teasing her.

"Asshole," She mumbles and shoves me back lightly. Her breathing is uneven and her face is flushed and I really am an asshole for loving that I did that to her.

I pull back enough that we're able to share a loaded stare, one that's full of unsaid things neither of us really have the courage to say. And yet, we hear each other loud and clear. That's how I know that if I stay any longer I'm going to lose what little self-control I have left and really fuck things up. I set my coffee down so I can sign goodnight and she frowns in obvious disappointment. I keep the amusement out of my face because I have no interest in being punched. Instead, I grab my coffee and leave the kitchen without a backward glance, not even when I hear a thud that sounds suspiciously like Melanie kicking my furniture. I hold back a snort. This place is her home, alright.

***

I'm a really fucking light sleeper. Ever since I was a kid, the smallest noise would immediately wake me from my stupor. I guess you could call it paranoia but I don't trust the world around me enough to completely give in and shut myself off. Some part of me is always on alert and I prefer to keep it that way. But what wakes me up isn't a small or barely audible noise. It's a full blown scream that has me sitting up with my fists at the ready, adrenaline waking my mind up instantly.

"What the fuck?" I murmur, looking around and trying to figure out what the hell that was.

I hear it again, even louder this time, and my chest sinks when I realize it's Melanie. I'm kicking at my blanket and stumbling off my bed not even a moment later. I've just grabbed the doorknob when I hear her scream, "Get off of me! Get off!"

Jesus fuck. I don't even think. I swing open the door and take off down the hall, skidding to a stop in front of her room. I try to get her door open but it's locked like I knew it would be. For some reason it makes Melanie feel safer to keep her door locked at night and while I normally don't mind, this absolutely can't be happening right now. I back up and turn my shoulder toward the door, charging at it and knocking it open so hard that the handle gets jammed into the wall. I'll take care of that later. My eyes immediately seek out Melanie and the person who broke in but...there's no one here. It's just her and her eyes are closed shut, her arms and legs flailing wildly.

"Get off of me!" She screams and when I get close enough to her bed, I notice the tears streaking down her face. "Don't touch me! Please!"

"Melanie," I whisper, staring down at her in horror. My hands are shaking with absolute fear as I watch her. I know this isn't just a dream. She's remembering something and the agony on her face makes my gut twist. Who did this to her?

"Stop it!" She kicks her leg. A sob rips out of her. "Stop touching me!"

I can't fucking watch this anymore. The absolute murder I'm feeling right now is making my entire being shake. I can't watch her like this. I can't fathom what's happened to her in the past. In the back of my mind I always had an idea but seeing this? I can't fucking do it.

I shake her shoulders, careful not to do it too hard because her eyes are moving behind her eyelids so I know she's already coming to. The last thing I want to do is scare her even more so I keep my touch as light as possible. A second later her eyes snap open and she gasps loudly, sitting up and clawing at my hand. I wince when her nail catches my skin and tears it open like a paper cut, stepping back and giving her a chance to snap out of whatever dream she just had. What the fuck was that?

"What the hell?" She gasps, her hand going to her chest. Her entire body is shaking and even in the dark I can make out a slight sheen of sweat on her skin. Her eyes dart around until they land on me and stay there, tracking me as I slowly crouch in front of her. I'm barely breathing, trying not to make any sudden movements like I might scare her off accidentally. She pulls the blanket up to her neck and scowls. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

Shit. She doesn't even realize what just happened and part of me doesn't want to tell her, wants to let her go back to sleep so she doesn't have to face the one thing she didn't want me finding out, but a bigger part of me knows that's only going to make shit worse.

When I don't answer, her eyes swing to the door to look for an explanation and widen when she sees it wedged in the wall. "What...did you do that? You broke in here? What the fuck? Why wou—" She stops short, her hand going to her throat as she clears it. I know why before she has the chance to figure it out but I stay quiet and let her work through it. I know the exact moment she puts two and two together because her expression turns horrified. She closes her eyes and whispers, "Fuck. I was screaming in my sleep, wasn't I?"

I don't say a word. Not because I'm not even sure if I can speak but because what the hell do you say to something like that? Even now, the way she cried for help sends a shiver down my spine because that had to be the most fucked up thing I've ever witnessed. And if I ever find out who the fuck did that to her, I'm going to land myself in fucking jail.

"How much did you hear?" Her voice cracks. She ducks her head and hides behind a curtain of her hair and I realize she's embarrassed. That's the last thing she should be but I also get it. I don't know if she ever meant for me to see into this part of her life but if she did, I'm sure this isn't the way she wanted it.

I decide to give her a minute to herself and head to the kitchen to grab her a glass of water. As it fills up, I take deep breaths to calm myself down. I still can't say for certain what she went through but I have a pretty good idea and if it turns out to be true...fuck. It makes me feel murderous. The thought of anyone hurting her, laying one fucking finger on her, is making me shake with anger. I close the tap and brace my palms against the sink, bowing my head and trying to get myself under control. I'm the last person who should be losing their shit right now. Melanie needs someone and she might not want me but at the moment, I'm all she's got.

I take the glass back to her room and surprise even myself with how calm I appear. On the inside I'm a fucking hurricane but on the outside, my face is passive as ever. Melanie takes the glass from my outstretched hand and guzzles the whole thing down while I cautiously sit beside her, the bed sinking under my weight. She sets the now empty glass down on the dressing table and the room fills with silence, the only noise coming from the rattling of the windows as Boston's angry winter wind blows outside. I don't expect her to tell me anything but I'm not ready to leave her alone just yet. I'll sit outside her room all night if I have to.

"Aren't you tired?" She asks me quietly. I turn to look at her and shake my head. She watches me, hands fiddling and pushing her hair out of her face. We're blanketed in darkness but the faint moonlight allows me to see some of her. Her blue eyes stand out like sapphire stones against the night, beautifully haunted and scared. It makes my gut twist because I would do anything to make her stop feeling like this. She searches my face carefully before she speaks. "Did you really break the door open because you thought I was in trouble?"

I nod unapologetically. She shouldn't even have to ask. It does get a small laugh out of her and I cling on to the sound because what I just saw...for a moment I almost forgot that Melanie is the brazen and snarky woman that she is. How does she hide this side of her so well? How does she appear untouched, unscathed, when she's been burned this bad?

"Thank you," She settles her hand on my knee and I stare at it. Even her hands are pretty. Her nails are always painted a dark colour and cut to a perfect square. This week they're black again. For reasons I can't explain I reach out and lace our fingers together, holding her hand as steady as I can. I can't give her my words right now but I can still show her what I'm unable to say.

When I look back up I find her staring down at our joined hands. There's a sheen of tears in her eyes and it takes me by surprise because Melanie doesn't cry often. She only broke down once in front of me but even I know that was a one in a million occurrence. I didn't expect to see another so soon. I don't know what the hell to do or say but it turns out I don't have to because she starts talking, so quietly I have to strain my ears to understand what she's saying.

"I wasn't always alone," She starts with a whisper. I look back down at our hands too and wonder what she's seeing right now. Wonder what she's thinking as she looks at my hand encompassing hers. Is she thinking of all the people in her life who've held her hand before? Did she never expect me to be one of them? "You remember how I told you I lost my parents in a car crash?"

When I nod she pulls in a breath like she's preparing herself. "Well...they weren't my only family. I had a little sister too."

My eyes jump to her apologetic ones and it's all I can do to keep my jaw from unhinging because what...the...fuck?

____________________________

A/N

Talk about a cliffhanger. I'm sure you guys hate me a little for this one but in the meantime do you have any theories?

I have to warn you: the next chapter is going to be really rough. That's why I figured it was best to save her backstory for a fresh chapter. You guys will thank me for that.

Don't forget Wolfe's little secret in the very beginning. Any guesses?

Please VOTE, comment and share if you liked this chapter!

Happy Reading :)