Page 97 of Hold the Line

“It’s going to be unfortunate when it’s over.”

She caught my hand, bringing it to her lips to nibble and press soft kisses on my fingers. “No sense in thinking about the ending when it only just began. Besides, if you want me in a sundress, all you have to do is ask.”

“Even if it’s the middle of January with two feet of snow on the ground?”

“Even then.” She kissed the pad of my finger. “It’ll just be sundress season in my apartment. I love you a lot, but not enough to wear one in the snow.”

Laughing, I pressed my face into her hair. “I love you enough, I’d never ask you to do that.”

She sighed, warm and content. “Look at us, Deacon, ending the night laughing in bed. I think that means everything’s going to be okay.”

“Long as I have you, you might be right.”

I sure as hell hoped so.

Chapter Forty

Phoebe

We’dhadagoodweek.

No visits from Richie. No calls. And as the days passed, I noticed changes in Deacon. His shoulders squared a little more, the weight he carried seeming a bit lighter.

I hated that he was burdened by his brother at all but held onto hope that he’d let go over time and Richie would move on.

I understood baggage. His was heavier and had wrecked his life in ways I couldn’t even fathom, but I had my little carry-on bag of mistrust. I’d set it down, but it still lingered, always within reach.

Someday, we’d both be free from the chains of our pasts. We were getting there.

We’d spent the evening separately—me with my mother and Hannah, deep in wedding planning trenches, Deke working in the shed and having dinner with Chris and Tilly—but we’d reunited afterward in my apartment.

That was what we did. Deacon slept here every night. It wasn’t even a question anymore.

Now we were on my couch, snuggling together. The podcast we were listening to had ended, but neither of us was in a hurry to move. His fingers were in my hair, stroking me into a coma.

He hmphed.

“What?” I asked.

“Just thinking what a waste it was for me to buy that couch.”

“Should we hang out at your place so it doesn’t get lonely?”

That made him laugh. “Nah, I think it’s fine. I prefer your place any day.”

“Well, it might not be a waste. If we move into a house and it has a den, we could use yours in there and mine in the living room.”

He went so still I lifted my head to see what was going on. His brow was furrowed, and he was looking at me quizzically.

“You’d move into a house with me?”

“Yes. Isn’t a house your goal?”

“Down the line, yeah.”

“I’d like that too, and it would be silly for us to have two separate houses. If you think buying a couch is a waste, imagine letting your house sit empty while you’re spending every night at mine.”

His mouth twitched. “What if you spend all your nights at my house?”

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