But I still didn’t know what I was doing. I had never been this guy before, and, again, I couldn’t be the kind of guy she wanted. I wasn’t some hero in one of those books she hid behind.
As I told Words, I wasn’t a white knight. I didn’t sweep girls off their feet.
After a few hours, I already felt like I was stumbling around, fucking terrified for when I hurt Charlie again.
Graham laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the house and pulling me from my thoughts only to remind me of what I’d walked in on earlier that night.
I forced a quick smile in Harlow’s direction. “Yep. Just gotta take care of some stuff.”
I followed her into the living room where Knox and Graham were sitting on the couches, and clapped Knox’s back as I passed him to sit in the only chair.
“Where’ve you been?” Graham asked with a sly grin.
One of my eyebrows ticked up in response, and I stared at him like he should already know the answer. “Charlie’s.”
Graham’s grin fell. “This whole time?” He looked at his wrist, then grabbed for his phone to get the time. “Deac, I left you there over two hours ago.”
“Oh, did she find a place to live?” Harlow asked excitedly.
But Graham didn’t respond, and when I spoke, it was directed at him. “You’re my best friend, I refuse to compete against you for her.”
“Compete—what?” Graham stammered.
“But I’m gonna give you right now to tell me if there’s something going on before I ask you to back the fuck off.”
“Whoa,” Knox said with a hesitant laugh. “What did we miss while we were gone?”
Graham looked floored. “What the hell are you talking about? Are we talking about Charlie? Little Charlie Easton?”
I winced. “Don’t call her that.”
Knox’s laugh boomed throughout the living room. “Oh man . . . this is rich.”
“What do you mean, compete?” Graham asked, confusion still covering his face. “What the hell would we be competing for when it comes to her?”
“You’re the one who is always checking on her, making sure she’s okay. You were the one who got her to dance at the wedding. You helped her find a place to live,” I added, going down the list of things I thought of on repeat. I would have asked about the date this weekend if Charlie hadn’t told me earlier that Keith had been her “date.” “Tonight I fucking walked in and you were kissing her.”
“Oh!” Knox hissed as Graham jerked back and clarified, “Her head. I kissed her head. Let me remind you that you kiss my sister’s head all the damn time.”
“And Harlow’s,” Knox murmured.
“Where is all of this coming from anyway?” Graham demanded. “You’ve been treating her like shit.”
“Yeah, no need to remind me; I do that enough myself.” I sighed roughly and scrubbed my hands over my face. “Look, I just need you to tell me if there’s something going on between you.”
He laughed hard once. “Deac . . . it’s Charlie. I mean, don’t get me wrong, some time in the last few years she’s grown up and she’s fucking gorgeous, but she’s still little Charlie Easton. She’s my brother-in-law’s little sister.”
I shook my head slightly. “Stop with the little thing.”
Knox huffed, his chest moved with his silent laughter. “I don’t know, I kind of want to focus on it. I mean, Harlow and I had to endure years of bullshit from both of you because she’s two and a half years younger than me, and Charlie is . . .” He trailed off, waiting for me to finish. When I didn’t, he guessed, “Five years younger than you? Six?”
“Four.”
Knox smiled knowingly. “How’s that crow taste, Deacon? Eat some more.”
“Man, I already apologized for that shit long ago.”
“Yeah, but I think you’re just now realizing how wrong you actually were to use her age against me.”
If that wasn’t the truth. I sat back in the chair, and mumbled, “Bitter. Tastes really fucking bitter. I’m sorry, for all of it.”
I knew from Knox’s expression that I hadn’t needed to apologize again, he was just enjoying tormenting me a little more than I already was.
“For the record,” Harlow said, speaking up to break the silence that had fallen between us, “I think Charlie is a very sweet girl, and I think her quiet would be the perfect balance for a guy like you.”
I sent her a thankful smile, but it fell when Graham said, “You know, Charlie isn’t the kind of girl you screw once or twice, then never talk to again.”
“I don’t know why people keep saying that, like I’m not already completely aware of that.”
Graham sent me a knowing look. “Because I know how you are, just as you know how I am.”
My head shook as I tried to figure out what to tell Graham, as I tried to figure out what was going on between Charlie and me at all. “This is different,” I finally said.
My phone chimed in my pocket, and without thinking, I pulled it out to look at who had messaged me.
My body locked up when I saw her name with a picture below, too small to make out on the lock screen.
Words.
I immediately opened up the messages on my phone, and stood from the chair to head for my room, but stopped when Graham’s voice ricocheted off the walls.
“Deacon, what the fuck?” He was pointing at the phone in my hands, his face set with a rage I’d felt all too often when I’d seen him lately. “This is exactly what I just meant! I know you, man! Is that Charlie?”
“No, she has my real number,” I said automatically, defensively.
From Graham’s expression, it was both the wrong and right answer. “I told you that Charlie isn’t the kind of girl you screw and then leave, but she also isn’t the girl that you keep screwing around on, either. You come home and try to start shit, demanding me to tell you about something that wasn’t even happening, and all the while you still have Candy? You get up and leave the second it goes off? I mean, thank Christ you didn’t put Charlie’s number in that phone, but are you kidding me?”
I didn’t know how to defend myself or Words to them, when I knew they wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t even know how to explain it. Like everything else in my life lately, I was still trying to figure it out. One day, one message, one mind-blowing kiss at a time.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Deac,” Knox said warily. “I’m all for you being with Charlie if it meant what we all thought it did just a couple minutes ago. But this?”
“No, this isn’t okay,” Graham finished. “You can’t do this to her.”
“Even if I could explain it, you wouldn’t understand. Just trust me, the last thing I’ll be doing is sleeping around on Charlie.”
“Deacon—”
“I gotta go.” I ignored Graham trying to call me back as I headed to my room. The entire time my body was vibrating with anticipation as I hurried to pull up the picture Words sent.
It was another shot of her journal, like I’d gotten a week ago. My eyes skimmed quickly over the top that was scratched out, then to what was written below.
You can’t believe it’s daylight
We stayed up again all night
Just ta Talking just cause you like the way I make the words sound
You can’t believe it’s daylight
We stayed up again all night
Talking just cause you like the way I make the words sound
I triple-double dare you
Fess up and make the first move
You need me like I need you
That’s why you come around here
Cause you know I’ve always been the one
Who listens to your sad songs
The shoulder that you cry on
Out on that
ledge you walk on
When you’re sinking
Who keeps your secrets locked up
When there’s no one you can trust
I know it’s much more than just wishful thinking
Just say the words and you know I’ll be there
I read the new lines over and over again before saving the picture and swiping it away so I was back in the messages. She’d sent nothing else, just the song. It wasn’t like her.
I glanced at her writing again in the smaller version of the picture on the text, then tapped on my screen as the weight of my conversation with the guys fell off my shoulders.
The one?
Words . . .
I thought her response would never come. My amused smirk slowly fell as the minutes passed, and I’d nearly gotten to the point where I started messaging her again when the dots suddenly popped up on the screen.
Words: It’s just a song.
Words: No need to let a couple words in it freak you out.
A crease formed on my brow, and I hurried to respond.
They didn’t.
Words: I’ll change it.
Words: I wrote the new part this weekend because of our conversation, I just hadn’t sent it to you yet.
Hey, stop. What’s going on . . . are you okay?
I was messing with you when I sent those first texts. I wouldn’t have done it if I would’ve known that this would happen.
Five minutes passed without a response.
And then another five.
Words, talk to me. I’m here listening to you. Remember?
With each minute that passed, I got closer and closer to doing something I swore I would never do—calling her. I wasn’t ready to lose her. I knew I couldn’t keep her, but I couldn’t let her go yet, either.
Words: I think tonight might not be a good night to talk, Stranger.
Words: I’m sorry.
What the fuck. Words, what’s wrong? Fucking talk to me.
If it was how I responded, then I’m sorry. I was teasing you about it. You and I both already know how the other feels about it, that hasn’t been a secret.
Words: It’s not what you said.
Words: I’m sorry, but I have nothing that I can say to you.
That hurt more than it should have. It was the smallest glimpse of what it would feel like when she disappeared from my life, and it fucking hurt. I stared at her response for long seconds before typing back.
Tell me what I did so next time I can avoid it. Tell me what to do so I can try to make it up to you. Tell me something, anything, so I can stop thinking that you’re about to walk away from this.
Watching those three dots, waiting for her response, was agony.
Words: Nothing, Stranger. Nothing. And walk from you? Like you said, I don’t know if I’d be able to.
Then talk to me.
What could have happened between when you sent the song and when you next texted me?
Words: A lot . . .
Words: I don’t know how to talk to you tonight. I don’t know what to say to you. Everything that is running through my mind right now is too personal, and we don’t do personal.
You know me better than anyone. I know you, Words.
Words: Not like this. This would change things.
Try.
Long minutes passed, but this time I gave her the time she needed and tried to stay patient as I waited.
Words: To put it as simply and vaguely as I can . . .
Words: I was asked something, and it made me want to tear myself away from every happiness that I’ve recently found, and any I could possibly find in the future.
Words: It was innocent, really. The person had no clue what kind of devastation they would inflict on me by asking, but it feels like even my soul is crying now. Everything hurts. It hasn’t hurt like this in so long.
I felt helpless. I needed to reach through the phone and grab her, pull her into my arms and not let her go. But she wasn’t real.
You’re not going to tell me what the question was, are you?
Words: I can’t.
Words: And that’s why tonight isn’t a good idea. I don’t have anything I can say to you.
I think that’s why tonight is a perfect idea. I can’t leave you when you hurt.
Words: I won’t be any fun.
I doubt that.
Words: I’m crying.
You have no idea how much I wish I could be there to dry your tears.
Words: My heart . . .
Words: Stranger, don’t. Don’t. Didn’t you just hear me? I already want to tear myself away from the happiness that I’ve found. Don’t make me wish that you would hurry up and find me just so I could rip myself away from you, too.
Fuck if you think I’d let you rip yourself away from me, Words. If I find you, I’m not letting you go.
Words: There you go sweeping me off my feet again, Stranger . . .
Words: How is it possible that I’m unreasonably jealous of the girl you’ll one day leave me for, when you can’t leave what you never found?
I dropped my phone on my chest and let my eyes shut. I wanted to swear that I wouldn’t leave. I wanted to tell her that I would find her.
But I couldn’t.
Words was my outlet. She was the only person who had allowed me to be me without judging me for my past. In the last weeks she had unknowingly forced me to see what I really wanted out of life, when I’d spent years thinking I was happy in my repetitive life. Letting her go, closing that connection, scared the hell out of me. But I knew one day I would.
Because when I thought of Words, I only ever pictured one thing. A thousand faces blurred into one. Always one.
One I could reach out and touch.
One who was real.
One I would give up everything for.
Charlie.
Chapter Fourteen
Charlie
June 18, 2016
DEACON SIGHED AS he unfurled his large frame from under the hood of my car. “It’ll run for a day or two . . . maybe.” He turned his light eyes on me, and looked at me guardedly. “Charlie Girl, I’m serious. You—”
“Need to get a new car,” I finished for him, then let loose my own sigh. “I know. You and Jagger keep reminding me.”
He wiped his hands on a rag, and pulled me close with one arm. His lifted my chin with his knuckles to press his mouth first to my jaw and then my lips.
I felt his mouth spread into a slow grin when I shuddered from the warmth that moved down my spine at the contact.
After four days, I still wasn’t used to it. To this.
If it would always feel like this, if it would always leave me breathless and weak, then I wasn’t sure that I ever wanted to get used to it.
“Speaking of Jagger, what do you think he’s going to say?”
My eyebrows rose in question, and Deacon’s smile grew.
“About us, Charlie Girl. About the fact that I can’t stop kissing you and don’t know how to let you go.”
I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth when he pressed me tighter to his large, muscular frame. And as I had the last few days, embraced the way my heart beat wildly in my chest. One of these times it was going to break free, and I wasn’t going to attempt to stop it.
All of this was happening fast, I knew. But I had a feeling that all those years I’d felt betrayed by my irrational heart around Deacon had been leading up to this. When I would be ready to trust someone with my heart again. When Deacon would be the one to take it.
“Does it matter?”
Deacon looked at me with open disbelief.
“If what Jagger said really mattered to you, then you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have been here yesterday, or the night before . . .” I traile
d off, and lifted one of my shoulders. “You would’ve never come after me.”
I knew from Deacon’s expression that he couldn’t deny what I’d said. “Still, it’s going to matter to you, and that will matter to me.”
“He doesn’t always know what’s best for me.” I trailed my fingers over his lips, then pushed up on my toes to press my mouth to his. “Besides, they won’t be back from Seattle until late tomorrow night. I still have until Monday morning to prepare for whatever he’ll say.”
The corner of his mouth slowly lifted in a mischievous smirk. “Guy isn’t going to know what hit him if you’ve been preparing your comeback all this time.”
I laughed and pushed at his chest, but he just pulled me back in for another searing kiss that made my head spin before he released me.
Deacon stepped back to push down the hood of my car when I started toward my house, and continued to stare at it for a few seconds before following me. “Tell me what’s stopping you from getting a new car. I know from talking to Grey and Jagger over the years that you have money from your grandparents, so why?”
The daze that Deacon’s nearness and his kisses had put me in abruptly disappeared. My blissful smile fell, my stomach dropped, and my palms suddenly felt clammy.
I’m not like her. I refuse to be her. I’m not like her. I refuse to be her, I chanted over and over again as a tremor of unease slid through me.
“Um.” I swallowed thickly and studied the ground for a second before taking a step back. “I need to go. I have to wake up Keith and get him over to the babysitter’s, then get to work,” I mumbled, then took another two steps back.
Deacon’s brow furrowed, and in one step, he closed the distance I’d managed to put between us. “Charlie—”
I turned and hurried toward the front door, calling over my shoulder as I walked. “Thanks for coming over so early.”
“Charlie, damn it, stop,” he demanded, and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close to his chest. “Why do I have to hold you still to get you to talk to me?”
“Why don’t you understand that when I walk away, I’m not ready to talk?”
“That’s not how this works. Not with us. Not with you.” His large hand pressed firmly against my stomach, his fingers spread so wide that his thumb brushed the underside of my breast with each breath that I took. “I may not have been paying attention to you all these years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know you. That doesn’t mean I don’t know what you’re doing when you walk away from me. It’s just another form of hiding for you.”