Page 99 of The Play

“I wasn’t even talking about the email,” Jem said softly.

Ugh, it sucked having a best friend who knew your own mind better than you knew it yourself. Sucked, and yet was also the greatest thing in the world.

“Right. Uh. Well. Yes. Maybe. A little for me.”

“A lot for you,” Jem insisted. “And that’s okay, you know? You love to save people, too, Deac.”

“Yeah.” He did. Hadn’t ever really thought about it in those terms, before, but he was always trying to help, wasn’t he? And Grant did the same thing.

“You two are gonna always be trying to out-rescue each other. It’s cute.”

Deacon didn’t know what to say to that. “It’s still new,” he said, trying to be cautious. Because Jem was already talking like they were going to be together for the long-term. Like they were already ride-or-die for each other.

He hoped it was true. He wanted it to be true.

But how could it be, if they hadn’t even been on one single freaking date yet. You’ve had sex three times though—if you’re counting last night, and you sure as hell are.

“Yeah, but is it though?” Jem retorted kindly. “You’ve been dancing around each other since the summer. And for a long time before that, if what you told me about college is true.”

“You’re really annoying, you know?” Deacon said.

Jem laughed. “AKA, Jem, you’re so fucking right.”

“Sure,” Deacon said, but the knowing tone of Jem’s voice made it clear that they were on the same page. Warmth spread through him that his best friend not only knew now, but clearly approved.

“You’ll have to come down here, after the season. Visit. I . . .” Jem’s voice caught, and he cleared his throat. “I’m buying some land here, I think. Going to look next week at a few plots just outside of town.”

“You’re moving back to Christmas Falls.” Deacon didn’t know why he was surprised. After all, he’d known Jem was retiring. Knew Jem was dating Murphy, and since Jem didn’t date all that often, frankly even less than Deacon had, he had to be fairly serious about this guy.

“Yeah, I think so. Splitting my time between there and here.”

“It’s a good move,” Deacon said, even though some deep part of him ached with the inevitability of it.

There’d be more of these phone conversations and text exchanges and fewer quiet beers on a free night, in the future.

It wouldn’t change the fundamental way he and Jem were friends, but it was going to be different going forward.

“I’m still gonna be around,” Jem promised, but it didn’t matter what he said, Deacon knew it wouldn’t be the same.

But then, he couldn’t even lay that change on Jem’s doorstep, because it had been coming since Deacon had decided to retire.

“You’d better be,” Deacon retorted fondly.

Against his ear, his phone dinged, and he glanced at it, saw it was a text from Grant. “Hey, I gotta go,” he continued.

“Your boy calling for your dick?” Jem teased.

Deacon rolled his eyes but it felt good to hear Jem call Grant his boy, even though Grant was a hell of a lot more than just his boy.

Grant was the kind of guy who could contain multitudes. He could be a CEO and an NFL owner and a billionaire and a person who owned a Picasso and also Deacon’s boy.

Deacon’s man.

“Yeah,” Deacon said.

“Have fun and wear protection,” Jem said and before Deacon could argue, he’d hung up.

He glanced down at his phone and made a face at the text Grant had written.

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