Page 37 of Without You

“You shouldn’t have come out,” I reprimand. “I said I needed a minute.”

“Hey.” He puts his hands up in front of him. “I just wanted to check on you.” Not waiting for an invitation, or caring if I mind, he stands beside me, against his truck. “You’ve saved my ass a lot this weekend. I wanted to do the same.”

My heart softens at his words, but my mind rebels, pushing the harsh words from my mouth. “Can you leave me? I really don’t want to be around you.”

The lie burns my tongue, and I expect the usual, hot headed Deacon to strike back. I find myself itching for a fight, wanting an argument, but just like everything else this weekend, it doesn’t go to plan.

He remains stoic and silent. Still and pensive.

“Did you hear what I said?” I say, harshly.

“Loud and clear,” he retorts. “But I’m an expert at pushing people away, I know how this works. You’re mad and hurt, and you think you want to be alone, but all you really want is for it to stop hurting.”

Just like he said, he’s an expert, and every single word and feeling rings true.

“She feels like shit for what she said.”

“I’m not mad about it.” I let out a long low sigh. “I just miss him.”

Like our bodies have moved to this dance a million times before, he wraps an arm around my shoulders and my body turns into him. My arms find his waist and my head leans on his shoulder.

Tears slide down my face as I hold on for dear life, and he lets me.

Sometimes I feel like my grief will never measure up to the way his family must feel, but just like the night a few days after Rhett’s funeral, Deacon is here for me. Taking care of me, validating my feelings; surprising me, and doing the absolute opposite of everything I’ve ever known about him, and I don’t know what to do with all of it.

His empathy. His sincerity. His generosity. It’s taking up space inside my chest. Space that isn’t his, and space I shouldn’t want to give.

There’s no rush, or urgency, to get back to everyone inside. He waits. Quietly. Patiently.

Finding my emotional footing, I step back, separating us.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands, hang my head between my shoulders, and let my arms fall to the side. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to look, nowhere to hide when he’s here, standing in front of me.

“I’m going to go back in,” Deacon informs me, as if reading my mind. “Take as long as you need.”

He neither expects or waits for anything further from me, walking away, giving me the space I needed all along.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I give myself a much needed pep talk. I can do this. I can feel the way I’m feeling and enjoy the company of the only people who seem to understand me all at the same time.

Inhaling the fresh air, I exhale the tension and head back inside. I duck off to the bathroom first, washing my face, and buying time.

When I return to my seat, the crestfallen look on Victoria’s face breaks my heart in two.

“Hey.” I grab her hand in between mine, trying to soothe her. “Habits are hard to break. For all of us.”

“I’m so sorry, Julian.” She shakes her head. “I feel like absolute shit about it.”

“Don’t,” I insist. “We’re having a good day, and you have so much to be happy about.” I pointedly look down at her stomach. “We all do, and that’s what we should be focused on.”

The traditional tortilla soup has come out and been served to everyone. Plastering a smile I don’t one hundred percent feel, I raise her hands to my lips and kiss them. “Let’s eat, okay?”

The mood is a bit more somber and my interest in conversation and food is a little more subdued, but I do my best to play the part.

The delicious, authentic dishes keep piling up in front of me, but the knots in my stomach are tied too tight for me to enjoy the taste. If the significance of all of us coming here, and eating together wasn’t so important, I think I would’ve tried hightailing it out of here ages ago.

“Do you want me to take you home?” The hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention at the sound of Deacon’s low voice near my ear. “It’s okay if you’re not feeling it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m fine.”

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