“Michael, lemme go!” Joshua pushed on Michael’s chest, trying to free himself. “You’re squishing my hands.”

The teenager didn’t let go, continuing to stare at Diesel. Diesel had seen that expression before. Stark terror.

But why? To his knowledge, he’d never seen Michael Rowland before. He shot Mrs. Moody a quick look, seeing that she was as bewildered as he was.

Carefully, Diesel approached the brothers, his hands lifted, palms out. “Michael?”

“He can’t hear you!” Joshua panted, still trying to get free of his brother’s viselike grip. “He talks with his hands.”

Oh. Okay. Diesel knew a few signs. Well, more than a few, actually. He’d been studying for a year and a half. Ever since he’d first laid eyes on Dr. Danika Novak, whose younger brother, Greg, was deaf.

Greg had approached him more than two years ago for help doing a little “computer sleuthing,” as Diesel liked to call it, because “hacking” sounded clumsy, lacking in finesse, and he took pride in his art. Diesel had hoped that spending more time with Greg meant that he’d be spending even more time with Greg’s sister, but so far that hadn’t happened. Not yet.

Diesel hadn’t lost hope. Not yet.

He wished that Dani were here right now. She’d know what to say. What to do to calm this terrified kid. But she wasn’t here. I’m on my own.

Slowly, he dropped to his knees, trying to make himself smaller. Less threatening. He signed haltingly, hoping the kid understood him.

“Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”

Michael blinked, his gaze focusing on Diesel’s hands, so Diesel repeated the signs, then added, “I’m Coach Diesel.” He spelled the letters of coach and his name because he didn’t know the signs for those words. “It’s nice to meet you, Michael.”

Michael stared another moment longer, then lifted his eyes to study Diesel’s face. He seemed . . . there now. Coherent. Back from wherever his mind had gone when he’d first seen Diesel.

“Are you okay?” Diesel signed.

Very slowly, Michael nodded, his shoulders visibly relaxing. He loosened his hold on Joshua, who wiggled out of his grasp, his little hands flying like the wind as he signed to his brother.

Blinking, Michael turned his attention to Joshua and signed back.

Diesel caught enough of the signs to know that Joshua had demanded to know what was wrong with Michael—and to ask where their mother was. Michael’s reply was less frenetic, telling Joshua that he was sorry. That he’d thought . . .

Diesel frowned, unable to understand what the teenager was saying. He wasn’t sure what Michael had thought. But he did see the boy tell Joshua that their mother was asleep.