Page 91 of The Play

“I mean, we all sorta guessed. You were so smiley this morning, very un-Deacon-like. And then there’s the fact you punched that guy for him. You might be big, but he was bigger.”

“Thank you, Beckett, now you sound just like Carter.”

“I’ve heard worse compliments,” Beck observed. “And Micah said just how insistent Mr. G was that he take you to his car.”

“You said that already. I was there, you know, right along with your better half.”

“Right.” Beck grinned. “So, how was it?”

Deacon tried to shoot him a look that was cold—frigid, even—but he was afraid it came out gooey and sentimental.

“Best night of my life,” Deacon said.

Beck’s smile was understanding. He patted Deacon on the shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, I get that.”

Beck would.

Deacon hadn’t even realized how much emotional baggage Beck had been carrying around when he’d come to Charleston as a rookie last year. How much the shit with Micah had messed him up, until Micah had arrived himself. Then when Beck and Micah had shown up married and happy, it was like meeting a whole new Beck.

“Nobody can know. I don’t know if we’re telling anyone—I would guess . . .no, cause he’s still got the commissioner’s office on his ass, and the email made all that worse.”

“I’m a vault,” Beck said.

“You and Micah, sure,” Deacon teased. “A shared vault.”

“You think I’d tell him about this, even if you asked me not to?” Beck looked upset—worried that he might be upset, Deacon realized.

“I think you’re best friends and you’re married and you tell each other everything. It’s okay. I don’t tell you things I don’t expect him to hear eventually.”

“Really?”

“Y’all are disgusting,” Deacon said, meaning it, but also meaning and I’m so happy you got the chance to be.

“Takes one to know one,” Beck retorted, but he was smiling now.

“Yep,” Deacon said. The closest he was ever going to get to admitting to Beck that he was just as wildly, head-over-heels, soar-right-off-the-cliff-of-good-sense in love.

“Good.” Beck’s softened gaze made it clear he understood. “And I’m here, for whatever you need, man. You know that.”

“I do, Beck, I do. And it means a lot,” Deacon said and patted him on the shoulder again.

“Call Jem,” Beck suggested.

Deacon rolled his eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me to call my best friend,” he said.

“Except, I kinda think you do.”

“He met someone,” Deacon said. “But it’s early, and even though he’s crazy about the guy, I think he might come back here, if he thought even for a second that we needed him.”

“Ah.” There was a wealth of meaning in Beck’s single word.

“He’s got a chance for a real life, you know? After this. He deserves it, don’t you think?”

Beck’s gaze was serious. “Yeah, ’course I think that. But I think you’re the crazy one, Deac, if you don’t think he can have that life and still give a shit about what’s going on here.”

Deacon didn’t say anything, just watched as Beck jogged away, to join the rest of the secondary for their specialized warmup.

“What was that about?” Nate asked, as he walked up.

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