Page 43 of Without You

“Deacon,” Julian calls out.

“Huh?” I drag my gaze away from his mouth and back up to his eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

He licks his lips, and my eyes move down like magnets. My skin tightens against my body, a feverish heat rushing through me.

“We still on for eight?” he asks, his voice a little breathy.

“Yes,” I rush out, forcing myself to look directly at him.

This wasn’t just about ridding myself of the huge anvil sitting on my chest anymore. Right now, I really just want to be around him. I want him to invade my space and push my boundaries. For the first time, the unknown is much more appealing than everything I thought I knew, and I love the way it feels.

I love that I’m feelingsomething.

The truck door opens, breaking my trance. I watch as he wordlessly hops out of the truck and keeps his back against the metal to stop it from closing.

“Broody.”

“What?”

“Broody,” he repeats. “It’s a compliment.”

10

Julian

Standing just out of the doorway, I rub my clammy hands up and down my jean covered thighs. Deacon is sitting at the bar, his back facing the entrance, and I’m here hiding in the background hoping not to be recognized.

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Okay, that’s a lie, it was a terrible idea. Itisa terrible idea, but I wanted to indulge. One night. One night to let go of the heavy.

Grateful for the hours we spent apart after he dropped me off, I thought it was enough time to process the change between us. But all I really processed was the fact that I’ve just replaced one heap of heavy for another.

I was flirting. It was low key, but I knew what was going on in my mind. I felt the small flutter building in the pit of my stomach. I checked him out a hundred times over, like it was the first time I was truly seeing him.

He was touching some part of me every chance he got. And he was staring at my lips.

He—my best friend’s brother—was staring at my lips.

He—my boyfriend’s brother—was staring at my lips.

He—my boyfriend’s straight brother—was staring at my lips.

Hewas staring atmylips.

Nothing about this makes sense.

But here I am. My muscles tight. My heart pounding. My body filled with warmth I know has nothing to do with the temperature inside the bar.

I should leave, not just because I’m having odd, crush-like feelings for a straight man, but because it’s Deacon. There’re so many lines there that shouldn’t be crossed.

It’s complicated and messy, and who would I be if I moved on from Rhett? What would that say about me? What would that say about what we had?

Finding courage, I take slow, apprehensive steps toward Deacon. I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill. We can do this. We can be two guys having drinks after a long, hard day. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I only cover half the distance when beautiful, crystal blue eyes find mine. Eyes that should remind me of Rhett’s, but only seem to push him farther out of my mind. They’re unguarded and relaxed, his expression lazy and content; the drink in front of him potentially responsible.

His gaze darts to my feet, his stare starts low and slowly rises. From the tips of my toes, he languidly makes his way up my body. I don’t know what he’s looking at or what he’s looking for, but my dormant nerve endings tingle from the inside out, keeping me rooted to the ground, not sure whether to move forward or take a step back.

He’s doing it again. Something completely unnatural, yet he looks so natural doing it. And no matter how much internal guilt I feel, I’m enjoying it.

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