Page 21 of Without You

Don’t worry, Deacon Sutton, ‘fuck you’ too.

5

Deacon

As soon as I close the front door, I let my body sag against the sturdy wood. Exhausted, both mentally and physically, I close my eyes and let my head fall back.

What’s wrong with me?

I don’t know why I spewed all that bullshit to him, but having him witness my mother’s outrage was just too much. It was humiliating. No matter how much leeway I give her and her grief, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

I’m not actively trying to be a dickhead to him, but I’m not a people person on the best of days. I’ve never beengoodwith the boy who got all my brother’s attention growing up, and I’m notgoodwith the man who has all my mother’s focus now.

Footsteps have me opening my eyes, and I see my father standing next to the coat rack, grabbing his jacket. “Where are you going?” I ask him.

“Julian’s car won’t start,” he informs me.

“What?” I turn to look through the window, and low and behold he’s still parked at the curb with his head on the steering wheel, exhaustion in his every feature.

Fuck.

He’s hunched over and defeated, and the guilt that sits at the bottom of my gut blooms into a puzzling need to comfort him. I ignore it and tell myself my profession is the reason I should helphim.

“Let me go take a look at it,” I say.

“He needs a new battery,” Dad says. “It’s on its last legs and he just refuses to buy a new one.”

I take hold of my father’s coat and return it. “I said, I’ll go.”

“Did you thank him?” my father asks.

Confused, I shake my head. “Thank him for what?”

“You and I both know he’s feeling fine.”

It’s not like I didn’t know he was trying to save my ass, but the reminder coming from my father’s mouth only confirms I am the self-centered asshole he made me out to be.

“I’ll try and convince him to go and buy a new battery.”

My father claps me on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Deacon.”

Feeling anything but, I swallow my pride and head to Julian’s car.

He doesn’t notice me at first, so I tap on the window.

He winds it down. “Can you get your dad, please?”

“Open the hood,” I demand.

“Fuck you, Deacon,” he spits.

Unexpectedly impressed by his fire, I find myself smirking. “I deserve that, now can you please open it?”

I walk around the car and stand at the hood, waiting. He keeps me waiting, staring at me, and I raise an eyebrow expectantly. “Should I lean in and do it myself?”

Resigned, I see his body deflate with a sigh. I watch him reach down, and I hear the familiar pop.

Winning.

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