Page 45 of Without You

Deacon picks one glass up and hands it to me, then grabs his own. “Drink.”

I raise an eyebrow while releasing it from his hold. “I’ve already had one.”

Challenging me, the glass touches his lips, and I’m quick to mirror his actions, throwing the drink down as quickly as he does. I hiss, clenching my eyes together, and enduring the unwelcome feeling of fire running down my throat.

Deacon doesn’t miss a beat, plowing through his line of shots, watching me, as I catch up.

I reach for a slice of lemon and suck it between my teeth, hoping the sour taste will soothe the burn inside my chest. Tequila is such a bad idea.

“Need to switch to water?” Deacon asks, smirking.

God, I could punch him in the face right now.

“I know this is your plan for tonight, but tequila is the difference between a night spent having fun and a night with your head in a toilet bowl.”

“Come on, it was only a few shots,” he teases. “And now you’re relaxed enough to lose that stick up your ass.”

“Me?” I scoff. “You’re the one whose moods change like the fucking wind.”

“Ladies,” Ray calls out, slamming two beers in front of us. “Let’s not fight, yeah? This round is on me.”

His embarrassment from earlier seems to have worn off, slipping back into his role as the cool and calm bartender. He gives us both a wink and moves on to another patron.

I take a sip of my beer just as Deacon says, “He seems nice. Have you ever thought of dating him?”

Pulling the bottle away from my mouth mid sip, my eyes widen at Deacon. “Tell me you’re not that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The guy that thinks because he’s gay” —I point to Ray and then back at myself— “and I’m gay, that we should automatically go on a date.”

“You mean the same way my sister tries to set me up with every ‘nice girl’ she knows?” He twists himself on the stool, so he’s sitting perpendicular to my own body. “Maybe it came out wrong, but I was trying to ask if you’d thought about dating again.”

I take a long pull of my beer before turning my head to face him. “You’re going to ask me that today of all days?”

“No matter what day I ask, he’s still going to be dead.”

His bluntness is like a knife to the chest. “I thought you said no heavy.”

He raises the beer bottle between us. “This will lighten the load.”

“I have no interest in dating right now,” I say honestly. “And I wouldn’t even know how. Rhett and I…” I stall, knowing the alcohol is making my lips loose.

“Rhett and you what?” Deacon presses.

“Nothing. Forget it.” I take another sip to silence myself, the need to talk and share surprising me. I’ve never felt the urge to talk about me and Rhett. Never wanted to share what I had with him, with anyone. Especially not Deacon. Wanting to keep him talking but not about me and Rhett, I ask, “Could you date again? After Josie?”

He clicks his tongue. “It’s nowhere near the same thing.”

“Don’t try to get out of answering,” I push. “Should we be searching the bar for your next girlfriend?”

“I could do with a one-night stand, but I do not need another girlfriend.”

“Oh.” I shift on the stool uncomfortably, the mention of sex reminding me of how long it’s been since I’ve had some. A hearty chuckle leaves his mouth, and my face heats up in embarrassment, worried he’s read my mind. “What?”

“You should see your face right now.” His eyes look behind me, and then he signals for another two beers, before bringing his focus back. “I didn’t say anything scandalous. Why do you look so shocked?”

Relief at his misinterpretation has my shoulders sagging. “It just catches me off guard every time you say something so…”

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