Show Me How
Page 44

 Molly McAdams

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I was afraid to know what his expression would say when he looked up at me, I was afraid to know what he would think.
My shirt was moved back into place, and a soft kiss was placed high up on my stomach before my hand was pried from my face.
Deacon’s eyes were still dark with lust and need despite the questions that hid there, but his face was full of patience. “Don’t apologize. You can say ‘wait’ at the last second, and I’ll fucking wait. You understand?”
I nodded quickly as I tried to figure out what to say to him—how to explain.
I could only imagine from his unspoken questions that he was wondering why I had stopped us since there was a three and a half year old asleep in his room that proved I wasn’t a virgin.
“I just, I’m sorry, but I—”
“Stop,” he begged, cutting me off. “Stop apologizing. You don’t have to, and you don’t have to explain yourself.” His eyes searched my face, still full of so many questions, making it hard to believe that he didn’t want to know why. His voice dropped, and his tone turned cautious. “Charlie, who was the last guy to touch you?”
My heart stuttered and skipped a beat before settling into a too-fast rhythm. A lifelong heartache echoed in my chest no matter how I tried to push it away. I opened my mouth to respond, but the name got caught in my throat.
Saying his name was one thing, though it always hurt. Saying his name like this? My body rebelled against the action.
Deacon’s head dipped in acknowledgment, the faintest look of surprise on his handsome face as he let my silence answer. “Who was the last guy you kissed?”
I looked at him hopelessly because I couldn’t answer, and prayed he would understand exactly what Ben had meant to me, and how completely he’d shattered me. What allowing Deacon into my life and my heart meant now.
He buried his face into my stomach and mumbled a curse. His arms slid beneath me until he was hugging me like he wouldn’t ever let go of me. Another curse vibrated against my stomach before he lifted his head, but he wouldn’t look at me. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry.”
A startled laugh bubbled up my throat, and I let my hands move from his hair to his face so I could force him to look at me. “Push me?”
Didn’t he realize that Ben hadn’t even waited ten minutes after telling me he wanted me before he’d taken me to my bed and taken my virginity?
Not that I’d asked him to stop. I’d thought my lifelong dreams were coming true. But for a shy eighteen-year-old who had never been kissed, it had been too much too fast. Unfortunately, I hadn’t realized that I’d needed slow until it was far too late.
“You didn’t push me, and you wouldn’t have been if you continued. I just . . . I promised myself something, and I want to keep it.”
Deacon glanced at my warming cheeks, then back to my eyes. “I said you didn’t need to explain, but if there’s a promise you’re trying to keep, then you’re gonna have to.”
Now it was my turn to look away. “The next time I’m with someone, I don’t want to be second to another girl, or just an option,” I admitted quietly. “I want to be the only option. I want to know that whoever I’m with loves me, and only me.”
His chest heaved against my legs. “That word.”
I risked a glance at him, and saw him staring vacantly at my stomach. “What word?”
“Love,” he said after a few seconds, then shook his head. “Charlie, I don’t . . . I don’t even know what that is. I don’t know how to love someone; I’m not even sure if I believe in it.”
I felt my brow draw together as I listened to him. His words so familiar that it made my heart race as confusion filled me.
If I didn’t already have proof on my phone that Stranger and Deacon had different numbers, I would have grabbed my phone and texted Stranger right then and waited to see if Deacon’s phone went off.
Deacon’s expression fell as he misinterpreted mine, and he hurried to say, “You have to understand, Charlie. My mom left my dad for my uncle when I was young—not that he didn’t deserve it—and you know he’s still single. My grandpa was such a dick that my grandma left him and started over here in Thatch and never remarried. No one in my family believes in love.” He shrugged. “It’s just not something I know, it’s not something I’d ever be able to give you.”
I pushed away thoughts of Stranger, and forced myself to ask something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Why are you here, Deacon?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, his tone low and cautious.
“I mean, what did you expect to come of this? What was your plan if it wasn’t to make me want something more with you?”
He looked lost. He blew out a slow breath and shook his head once. “There was no plan, I just knew that I needed you.”
“And what happens when my son falls in love with you?” My eyes searched his, my voice dropped to a whisper. “What happens when I fall in love with you?” Because both are dangerously close to becoming realities, I thought.
Keith already loved Deacon; there was no question about that. And me? I loved the way he made me feel and the way he treated my son. I loved the way he kissed me and held me, and the way he refused to let me hide in front of him.
Instead of looking terrified at the thought, instead of jumping off the couch and leaving my house, Deacon stared at me, unblinking.
“Don’t give me your heart, Charlie Girl. I’ll break it without even trying.”
My eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth fell to my stomach one last time as his hands gripped at my back, silently begging me not to let this end.
And I loved the way he loved me, even if he didn’t realize it.
 
 
Chapter Seventeen
Deacon
July 4, 2016
“YOU KNOW, HONEY, I’ve been thinking about—”
“Mom, I don’t want your lists! I don’t care which girls you think I should marry,” Graham groaned, and jumped up from where his mom had sat down between us on the couch, and took off for the kitchen.
I smirked when she sighed, and nodded in the direction of the kitchen, but didn’t take my eyes off the TV. “The food smells amazing, Mrs. LaRue.”
“It will be ready soon,” she said in a dejected tone, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her sit up and turn her attention to me. “Deacon, honey.”