Page 74 of Without You

“No fucking way you know that,” he bellows. “Nobody knows that.”

Laughing, my body languidly falls back onto the pile of pillows. “I totally won that round.”

“Fuck that, you did not win.”

“One thing I didn’t know was how much of a sore loser you were,” I taunt.

“Bullshit,” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry, Deacon,” I soothe. “Your secrets are safe with me.”

“You might be the only person who knows them all,” he responds.

The mood shifts and I feel the change between us squeezing my heart. It’s warm and honest, and effortless; and it’s growing roots. Hooking themselves around my veins, making themselves comfortable. Making themselves somewhat at home.

“You ready to call it a night?” I prompt, selfishly wanting to go to sleep feeling the exact way I feel in this moment.

“I can only try,” he says. He’s silent for a few seconds before he adds, “Are we good? You’re not still pissed off at me?”

“No.” I chuckle. “I’d say we sorted it out.”

“I’ll speak to you later?” The inflection in his voice indicates he’s very much asking me a question.

Do I want to talk to him when he’s not here?

“Yeah,” I answer sincerely. “I’ll definitely speak to you later.”

17

Deacon

It’s the weekend before Thanksgiving and Wade and I have dedicated every free hour we have to the shop. We get extremely busy around this time of year, everyone wanting their car in working order so they can make the long trips to visit family all around the country.

To reward ourselves, we take four consecutive days off. It’s probably the longest time we close the shop, with the exception of Christmastime. We usually finish half day on Christmas Eve and open back up on January second.

Most other bosses would use their status to their advantage and take as much time off to spend with their family, but since I never felt the need to, I was always eager to come back, leaving Wade to enjoy those luxuries.

Tonight we’re both holed up in the office getting through the never ending list of admin duties. In case it wasn’t obvious, he and I are insufferable control freaks.

We could easily hire an accounts person to take care of it, and at some point, probably very soon, we will, but for now, we’d rather share the load between us.

“So, it’s been close to two weeks since you came back from your parents’ place, and you still haven’t told me why you came back early.”

“Ughhh,” I groan. “I thought I told you to let this go. There’s no underlying reason.”

“Bullshit,” he coughs.

“And you’re super cheerful lately, so you obviously didn’t have a blowup with them,” he continues.

“I’m not super cheerful,” I argue.

“Dude, do you know how long it’d been since I’d seen you smile?”

I look up at him from the stack of papers I’d been viewing, perplexed at his statement. His voice is serious, grave even, and I’m shocked. I laugh. I smile. “That’s not true.”

“I’ve known you for ten years, Deacon,” he says. “And you’ve always been a broody motherfucker, so fucking spill.”

The word broody immediately reminds me of Julian, and that has my lips turning up. Wade jolts out of his seat, pointing and yelling at me. “That’s it, right there. Caught in the fucking act. What’s behind that cheesy ass smile on your face?”

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