Show Me How
Page 31
“Dude, it’s almost eight. I told you we were moving her in two hours ago,” Graham said from behind me.
Not something, I realized. Someone.
“Got held up at the shop with an emergency. I can see I missed a lot.”
Heat crawled up my cheeks at Deacon’s meaning, and I realized he’d come in when Graham had kissed me.
If somehow Graham had missed the implication of Deacon’s words, it would have been impossible to miss the glare that was clearly directed at him.
Bold, unyielding.
“Yeah, the whole thing,” Graham said slowly, awkwardly.
I forced myself to look away from Deacon, and turned back to find Graham tapping away on his phone, completely oblivious to Deacon’s anger.
“I’m about to head out, you headed home?” Graham asked Deacon without looking up.
“Deaton, Deaton, Deaton!” Keith screamed as he tore through the living room. “Guess who I am!”
“Hey now.” I gave Keith a curious look and pointed from him to the hall he’d just come running down. “I could’ve sworn I just put you in bed.”
Keith’s shoulders sagged. “But Mommy! Why I hafta sleep when my people are here?”
I bit back the laugh that so desperately wanted to escape, and said, “Nope, sorry. Back in bed plea—” My heart stuttered, and I froze when I heard my phone chime from where I’d left it charging in my room at the same time that Graham put his phone in his pocket. “Uh . . . say good night to Deacon and Graham, and I’ll be in your room in just a minute to tuck you back in,” I finished quickly, then slipped away from the boys to head toward my room in search of my phone.
It was one thing for Graham to say things that linked him to Stranger, it would be another if the message waiting for me was from Stranger after having watched Graham text someone. I could feel it, that end when all of this became real, and I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready to lose this person who had helped me learn so much in such a short amount of time. I wasn’t ready to lose this person that I had such a strange connection with. And I wasn’t ready to find out that Stranger was Graham LaRue, when I so desperately wanted him to be someone I knew he never would be.
Irrational, betraying heart.
I blew out a relieved breath when it ended up being only a message from Jagger letting me know he was happy for me, and was sorry for having to leave earlier.
Not that I blamed him. Since Jagger and Grey had to delay their trip to Seattle last weekend, they were leaving early the next morning to see friends and catch the last few days of an art show that Jagger had some pieces in.
Truthfully, I was ready for them to finally go to Seattle. I was worried that even with a place separate from them, I would still have to endure Jagger’s endless questions about Deacon, like how I was feeling, and what was I thinking planning something with him in the first place.
In other words, the parental-type talks had been in full force ever since Saturday night, and I needed a break.
I left my phone on the nightstand so it could continue charging, and walked back down the hall toward the living room. My footsteps slowed when I found it empty, but then I heard Deacon and Keith’s voices coming from Keith’s new room at the opposite end of the house.
Graham was already gone.
“What? No way, kid! Batman can’t beat Superman!”
“Yeah huh! ’Cause I’m so supa strong.”
“But Superman’s stronger. Like, ladybugs can’t even touch him, he’s so awesome.”
I peeked into the room in time to see Keith smack his forehead with his open palm. “Ladybugs can’t touch Darf Vaber. How many times I hafta tell you?”
“What if Superman just used his laser eyes to kill all the ladybugs in the world?”
Keith sucked in a huge breath, then faltered. “Whoa.”
Deacon nodded slowly. “Yeah, kid. Whoa.”
I froze against Keith’s doorjamb when both boys looked over at me, and stammered, “Uh, it’s t—you rea—it’s bedtime.”
Keith sighed exaggeratedly, but shuffled over to me for a quick kiss, then to his bed when Deacon said good night.
I swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the way Deacon’s eyes devoured me as he ate up the distance separating us.
Those same eyes held so many unspoken questions when he stepped close to me, but before he could voice any of them, or I could ask him to leave, the doorbell rang.
“Whoa cool! Mommy! Did you hear it?”
“I did,” I said uneasily as I wondered who could be at the door. “Get under the covers, buddy, I’ve gotta go—”
“I’ve got it,” Deacon murmured, cutting me off.
“It’s my house.”
“And it’s for me,” he argued gently, and stretched his hand out behind him to hold me back.
It worked. I was so terrified of what I would feel the second he touched me that I nearly jumped away from his touch.
I still followed a few feet behind him after shutting Keith’s door, and listened intently when he answered my door.
After a minute, he shut the door and sent me a challenging look as he stood there holding a pizza box. “Knew I wasn’t going to make it in time to help, and figured if you let me in at all, you were going to kick me out as fast as you could . . .”
“And you think pizza will stop me from doing that?” I asked when he didn’t continue.
“No, but I’m hoping it’ll help.” I would have expected him to look smug then, but he was just standing there waiting. His expression showed that he was waiting for me to make him leave.
I grabbed the box from him and turned to walk to the kitchen. I didn’t look back at him, but I knew he followed me. “I find it incredibly convenient that you didn’t show up until Jagger was gone tonight, especially considering I didn’t know you were coming at all.”
“Graham asked me to come help, and, like I said earlier, I got caught up at the garage.”
I glanced at him from over my shoulder and forced a smile as I dropped the box on the kitchen island. It felt like a sneer. “Did you?”
“Fuck, Charlie . . .” He grabbed my forearm and turned me around, his shoulders now sagging with the weight of some invisible stress as his large hands moved up to grip mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
Not something, I realized. Someone.
“Got held up at the shop with an emergency. I can see I missed a lot.”
Heat crawled up my cheeks at Deacon’s meaning, and I realized he’d come in when Graham had kissed me.
If somehow Graham had missed the implication of Deacon’s words, it would have been impossible to miss the glare that was clearly directed at him.
Bold, unyielding.
“Yeah, the whole thing,” Graham said slowly, awkwardly.
I forced myself to look away from Deacon, and turned back to find Graham tapping away on his phone, completely oblivious to Deacon’s anger.
“I’m about to head out, you headed home?” Graham asked Deacon without looking up.
“Deaton, Deaton, Deaton!” Keith screamed as he tore through the living room. “Guess who I am!”
“Hey now.” I gave Keith a curious look and pointed from him to the hall he’d just come running down. “I could’ve sworn I just put you in bed.”
Keith’s shoulders sagged. “But Mommy! Why I hafta sleep when my people are here?”
I bit back the laugh that so desperately wanted to escape, and said, “Nope, sorry. Back in bed plea—” My heart stuttered, and I froze when I heard my phone chime from where I’d left it charging in my room at the same time that Graham put his phone in his pocket. “Uh . . . say good night to Deacon and Graham, and I’ll be in your room in just a minute to tuck you back in,” I finished quickly, then slipped away from the boys to head toward my room in search of my phone.
It was one thing for Graham to say things that linked him to Stranger, it would be another if the message waiting for me was from Stranger after having watched Graham text someone. I could feel it, that end when all of this became real, and I wasn’t ready for it. I wasn’t ready to lose this person who had helped me learn so much in such a short amount of time. I wasn’t ready to lose this person that I had such a strange connection with. And I wasn’t ready to find out that Stranger was Graham LaRue, when I so desperately wanted him to be someone I knew he never would be.
Irrational, betraying heart.
I blew out a relieved breath when it ended up being only a message from Jagger letting me know he was happy for me, and was sorry for having to leave earlier.
Not that I blamed him. Since Jagger and Grey had to delay their trip to Seattle last weekend, they were leaving early the next morning to see friends and catch the last few days of an art show that Jagger had some pieces in.
Truthfully, I was ready for them to finally go to Seattle. I was worried that even with a place separate from them, I would still have to endure Jagger’s endless questions about Deacon, like how I was feeling, and what was I thinking planning something with him in the first place.
In other words, the parental-type talks had been in full force ever since Saturday night, and I needed a break.
I left my phone on the nightstand so it could continue charging, and walked back down the hall toward the living room. My footsteps slowed when I found it empty, but then I heard Deacon and Keith’s voices coming from Keith’s new room at the opposite end of the house.
Graham was already gone.
“What? No way, kid! Batman can’t beat Superman!”
“Yeah huh! ’Cause I’m so supa strong.”
“But Superman’s stronger. Like, ladybugs can’t even touch him, he’s so awesome.”
I peeked into the room in time to see Keith smack his forehead with his open palm. “Ladybugs can’t touch Darf Vaber. How many times I hafta tell you?”
“What if Superman just used his laser eyes to kill all the ladybugs in the world?”
Keith sucked in a huge breath, then faltered. “Whoa.”
Deacon nodded slowly. “Yeah, kid. Whoa.”
I froze against Keith’s doorjamb when both boys looked over at me, and stammered, “Uh, it’s t—you rea—it’s bedtime.”
Keith sighed exaggeratedly, but shuffled over to me for a quick kiss, then to his bed when Deacon said good night.
I swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the way Deacon’s eyes devoured me as he ate up the distance separating us.
Those same eyes held so many unspoken questions when he stepped close to me, but before he could voice any of them, or I could ask him to leave, the doorbell rang.
“Whoa cool! Mommy! Did you hear it?”
“I did,” I said uneasily as I wondered who could be at the door. “Get under the covers, buddy, I’ve gotta go—”
“I’ve got it,” Deacon murmured, cutting me off.
“It’s my house.”
“And it’s for me,” he argued gently, and stretched his hand out behind him to hold me back.
It worked. I was so terrified of what I would feel the second he touched me that I nearly jumped away from his touch.
I still followed a few feet behind him after shutting Keith’s door, and listened intently when he answered my door.
After a minute, he shut the door and sent me a challenging look as he stood there holding a pizza box. “Knew I wasn’t going to make it in time to help, and figured if you let me in at all, you were going to kick me out as fast as you could . . .”
“And you think pizza will stop me from doing that?” I asked when he didn’t continue.
“No, but I’m hoping it’ll help.” I would have expected him to look smug then, but he was just standing there waiting. His expression showed that he was waiting for me to make him leave.
I grabbed the box from him and turned to walk to the kitchen. I didn’t look back at him, but I knew he followed me. “I find it incredibly convenient that you didn’t show up until Jagger was gone tonight, especially considering I didn’t know you were coming at all.”
“Graham asked me to come help, and, like I said earlier, I got caught up at the garage.”
I glanced at him from over my shoulder and forced a smile as I dropped the box on the kitchen island. It felt like a sneer. “Did you?”
“Fuck, Charlie . . .” He grabbed my forearm and turned me around, his shoulders now sagging with the weight of some invisible stress as his large hands moved up to grip mine. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”
