Show Me How (10 page)

Grey's brow tightened in confusion as she looked up at her brother. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it seemed like there's something bothering her.”

“Wh—­”

Suspicion flooded me and leaked out when I spoke. “When did you see her?” I asked quickly, cutting Grey off.

Graham gestured over his shoulder, as if Charlie would be standing in our entryway. “Just now at Bonfire.”

Before either of us could respond, Graham pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket, and slowly started backing out of the room as that same satisfied smile covered his face.

I didn't hear him answer the call, my mind was racing, trying to figure out if there was a key word I had missed just now, or earlier when I'd seen Charlie.

Grey's wide eyes came back to me again, and this time, the silence between us felt strained and awkward.

Like the times I'd seen Charlie with Graham in the previous weeks, my blood felt white-­hot as it pulsed through my veins. I gritted my teeth against the surge of anger that flared up. The feeling so foreign and sickening.

Jealousy.

I was jealous.

Of my best fucking friend.

“Would she . . .” I began, but didn't continue.

Grey looked at me helplessly. “I'm not sure. Before she came home from college, I would've sworn that she would have never been involved with either of you. But I saw her tonight, and she
has
asked me about Graham.”

Shock hit me as fast as the jealousy had.

“How's it feel, Deac? How does it feel knowing a girl can hurt you like this?” Disappointment and sympathy and sorrow swirled in her eyes. “I don't know what happened between you two when you got to the warehouse tonight, but I saw what your actions did to Charlie today. Remember that you can hurt her, remember that you have. Think hard about what you want, and if you decide to go for what you've never had, know that you are not allowed to hurt her again like you did today.”

I ground my teeth to keep from saying anything, and nodded.

My phone chimed twice from wherever I'd dropped it next to me, and Grey used the distraction to stand up and move away from me.

“I mean it, Deacon, think really hard about what you want from her, and the consequences that come with that decision. I'll only help you out with Jagger this once. If you do it again, I'll let him come visit you afterward.”

I nodded again, and scrambled up to walk her out. When she was stepping out of the house, I asked, “Do you think this is all I can be?”

Grey slowly lifted an eyebrow in question.

“
This
, how ­people know me now. Is that all I will ever be to everyone else?”

The confusion left her face and was replaced by a smirk. “A man-­whore?”

Again, a title that would have normally had me feeling damn proud of myself left me irritated.

“No, Deac. But that's all you'll be until you're ready to force them to see something different.” She took slow steps backward, and shrugged. “Knox did it, I have no doubt that you can too, just like I have no doubt that Graham will be trying to do it soon too.”

A dent formed between my brows. Suspicion, confusion, jealousy, anger—­everything I wasn't used to, and everything I hated when it came to my friends. “Graham? Why?”

Another shrug. “There have been more than a few times in the last ­couple years when Graham and I have talked about
hypothetical
scenarios, and somehow he always ends up with a girl he grew up with. I've just been waiting to find out which girl these not-­so-­hypothetical scenarios are about.” She pointed to the house, and said warily, “Unless that conversation was my first clue.”

My hand curled around the door frame.

“Night, Deacon.”

Once Grey was in her car and pulling out of the driveway, I had to force myself not to go talk to Graham about whether or not he'd been out with Charlie, or had just run into her with her date. I was too pissed off to talk to him rationally, and I was too confused to understand why I needed to know at all.

I started walking toward my room when my phone caught my eye where I'd left it on the floor of the living room. I felt my frustration seep away when I saw the name on the notification screen.

Words:
I'm here.

Words:
Are you okay?

I had no fucking clue if I was okay, but I knew I needed her and needed this. I didn't know what to think about the fact that just seeing her name on my phone could instantly make me forget about everything that had happened today, but I was thankful for it.

Yeah, just need you. I don't know how, but I've somehow missed talking to you since this morning.

Words:
Those are dangerous words, Stranger.

But it's true. My day . . . Christ, everything in it feels wrong and goes wrong without you.

Words:
Don't. Don't say that. What you're saying does dangerous things to my heart.

Heart. There was that word again.

The thought that I had the capability of doing anything to Charlie's heart made me feel uneasy—­wrong. Because not only was I not the kind of guy who had anything to offer to her, but I had a feeling that I wouldn't know how to stop hurting her if I had her.

With Words, it didn't feel so dangerous. She knew what she was getting with me, and I knew she wouldn't willingly put her heart anywhere close enough for me to touch.

Words . . .

How do you have me rethinking everything I thought I wanted, and wanted to stay away from?

Words:
. . . There you go being dangerous again.

Words:
Say it.

Words:
Say it before you ask me for something I can't give you.

What do you want me to say?

Words:
That you're okay with keeping us strangers because you know it would ruin everything if we weren't, and you're afraid of losing what we have.

So what exactly are you saying you can't give me?

Words:
Stranger . . .

Despite the way I craved having Words directly in front of me, I did a great job of fucking up things in person without even trying, and had no doubt I would do the same with her.

And she was right: after tonight especially, I knew I wasn't ready to lose this.

I blew out a slow sigh as I fell onto my bed, and tapped out my response.

I'm starting to think it's necessary for us. But I think I would lose more than you if this ended. You would probably be happy to get some sleep.

I'd gladly lose sleep for the rest of my life if it meant listening to you.

Words:
My heart . . .

Words:
Damn you, Stranger.

Words:
I thought you weren't going to sweep me off my feet. A guy who doesn't believe in love shouldn't be allowed to be as romantic as you are.

My mouth curved up in a bemused grin as I reread what I'd sent her so far this evening. Not once had I tried to be romantic, I was just being honest for the first time in too long.

But her reactions to my honesty? Yeah, I fucking liked those.

My apologies?

Words:
Don't apologize.

Wasn't sincere anyway. ;)

Words:
You were wrong, by the way. About who would lose more.

Really.

Words:
My entire life has revolved around words and love. In less than two weeks, a man who doesn't believe in the latter has destroyed the way I view relationships and myself, and raised the bar incredibly high for any man who comes into my life in the future. And after such a short time, I'm dreading the day you walk out of my life.

I stared at her message for a long time, just reading it over and over again. Absorbing every word and the meanings behind them.

Words . . .

You and your words . . .

Unable to stop myself, I tapped out the words that were so desperate to be said, even though I knew no matter how real our conversations felt,
she
never would be.

Walk away from you? I don't know if I'll ever be able to.

If anything, you should be waiting for the day I decide to finally find you.

Words:
 . . .

Words:
I dare you.

 

Chapter Twelve

Charlie

June 15, 2016

“
G
RAHAM, HONEY,
I
'
M
so glad you were here to help today. I was thinking about Caroline—­”

Graham's face pinched with irritation as his mom stepped up beside us that next Wednesday. “Mom, no. No Caroline, no Melissa. No more lists of girls.” He jerked his hand away when his mom tried to put a piece of paper in it. “I don't want her number. One of these times I'm just going to show up with a girl so you'll stop doing this.”

Mrs. LaRue sighed. “Well she can't be just any girl you found on the street.”

“She won't be, Mom, Christ. I'll probably have known her my entire life. This
is
Thatch. As much as I love talking to you about all the girls you want me to settle down with, I need to finish talking to Charlie about the house.”

His mom kissed me on the cheek and squeezed my shoulder. “We're going home. Enjoy your new place, sweetie!” Before I could thank her, she turned her thoughtful gaze on Graham. “Known her your whole life, huh? That narrows down my lists.”

“I didn't mean—­Mom, I still have to find her—­you know what? Never mind. Yes, go narrow down your lists.” Graham let out a slow breath when the door shut, then dug in his pocket to produce a ring of keys for me. “Here, before I forget to give these to you.”

My pulse was racing and my mind reeling from his words. I repeated them to myself as I stared at the keys in my hand, and tried to keep my tone light when I asked, “You still have to
find
her? Is this mystery girl hiding from you?”

Graham winked, and the corner of his mouth pulled into a lopsided smirk. “Something like that.”

I tried to keep my heart in my chest, but it felt impossible, when it was entirely
possible
that I was standing just inches from my stranger.

It had been four days since I'd dared Stranger to find me. Each night I asked if he was any closer, while praying he wasn't.

Stranger allowed me to be someone I could never be in real life. I couldn't attempt to voice the things I wrote to him without my words getting caught in my throat. I couldn't try to speak to men that way without needing to find someone or something to hide behind.

With Stranger I had my voice because I had my phone to hide behind. His beautiful soul endlessly pulled me out from behind the walls I'd built around myself; all the while I remained invisible to him. Every day he helped show me how to trust someone with my heart again, even though he and I both knew that, in reality, he would never hold it.

But now with Graham's cryptic and oddly similar words, I wanted to shout that I was standing right there.

But I needed to keep Stranger at a distance. I needed to keep him fictional, or everything we had would shatter. Our deep conversations that meant everything, and even the innocent flirting and teasing . . . all of it would be gone.

Graham's voice pulled me from my internal conflict, and I blinked quickly to clear my head as he handed me a piece of paper.

“I'm sorry, what?” I asked breathily when I realized I'd missed everything he'd just told me, and hated that my tone gave away everything I was feeling.

“There's a security system already set up throughout the house, but the owner had it shut off when he moved. Everything to get it turned back on is on that paper.”

“Oh. Right,” I said quickly, still wanting nothing more than to get away from him, and to say things I knew I shouldn't.

“All right. Anything else you need to know?”

Only about a thousand things, starting with what the word “stranger” means to you.

But I knew that wasn't what he was asking.

I'd run into Graham during my date with Keith the weekend before, and he'd told me about one of his friends who needed to rent out his house.

The owner had moved across the country for a yearlong transfer with his job. I was told there was a possibility of it becoming permanent, but I wasn't going to focus on that now.

Because that wasn't important at the moment. Either we would find somewhere more permanent in a year, or we would stay there. What was important was that I had a two-­bedroom house in Thatch with a backyard for my son and me.

We'd just finished getting moved in, with the help of Jagger and the LaRues, and tonight would be our first official night there.

“Uh, no.” I shook my head and looked around. “No, just thank you so much for helping me with this. I can't tell you how excited I am.”

“Ah, Charlie. Don't thank me. You know I'd do anything for you.” He leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to the top of my head.

And it ended.

The breathlessness. The racing heart. All of it . . . ended.

Because there was nothing behind that kiss from him, and there was nothing I felt from it other than the protectiveness I always felt from Graham.

“Sorry I'm late.”

My body stilled and my next inhale was sharp and audible when the deep, rough voice sounded behind me. I turned though I told myself not to face him, and was overcome with everything I
didn't
want to feel from the man in front of me.

Deacon
.

I'd seen him twice since I'd asked him to leave the warehouse, and had heard from him at least once each day since.

The next morning he'd shown up for breakfast at Mama's with Graham, as they always did on Sundays. And since I worked the front on the weekends, I worked their table. I didn't say a word to him, and he didn't speak to me, but those eyes of his never once stopped following me from the moment he entered the café until they left.

I'd tried like hell not to look at him, but I could still feel his stare . . .

Searching, begging, asking and telling a hundred things I refused to hear.

By the time they left, I was shaking from forcing myself not to look at him.

When I got off work on Monday, my car was in the parking lot of Mama's with a note tucked into the windshield. I'd taken one look at the black smudges from the grease on the paper, and thrown the paper away without opening it.

Tuesday he'd walked into Mama's with purpose, right up to where I was waiting on a table in the back. White shirt, straining against his muscular form and stained with grease, every inch of him demanded attention and screamed for me to touch.

I'd turned my back on him and forced myself to focus on taking my table's order.

My breath had caught in my throat when one of his hands went to my hip and his lips brushed against my ear. Goose bumps covered my arms and my stomach swirled with heat as his deep voice rumbled.

“Keep pretending I don't exist. Keep ignoring me. Keep acting invisible if it makes you feel better, Charlie Girl. In case you haven't noticed, I fucking see you.” His fingers flexed against my hip as if to prove his point. “I'm not giving up until you talk to me.”

When I didn't respond to him, he'd turned and left.

Each of those days, there had been a text from him asking me to call him.

I hadn't.

I also hadn't asked him to help me move in.

But there he was, standing in front of me, looking the same as he had the day before. Demanding attention and screaming for me to touch.

I curled my hands into fists and wrapped an arm around my waist.

At least he'd changed before he'd come, though the streaks of grease that he'd missed on his arms made it clear that he'd come from work. Not that what he had changed into hid his size or strength any more than that tight white shirt had.

“Charlie Girl,” Deacon murmured, his voice barely above a growl.

His mouth was set in a grimace and his light brown eyes were conflicted; when they flicked up at something behind me, they flashed with rage.

“Dude, it's almost eight. I told you we were moving her in two hours ago,” Graham said from behind me.

Not something
, I realized.
Someone
.

“Got held up at the shop with an emergency. I can see I missed a lot.”

Heat crawled up my cheeks at Deacon's meaning, and I realized he'd come in when Graham had kissed me.

If somehow Graham had missed the implication of Deacon's words, it would have been impossible to miss the glare that was clearly directed at him.

Bold, unyielding.

“Yeah, the whole thing,” Graham said slowly, awkwardly.

I forced myself to look away from Deacon, and turned back to find Graham tapping away on his phone, completely oblivious to Deacon's anger.

“I'm about to head out, you headed home?” Graham asked Deacon without looking up.

“Deaton, Deaton, Deaton!” Keith screamed as he tore through the living room. “Guess who I am!”

“Hey now.” I gave Keith a curious look and pointed from him to the hall he'd just come running down. “I could've sworn I just put you in bed.”

Keith's shoulders sagged. “But Mommy! Why I hafta sleep when my ­people are here?”

I bit back the laugh that so desperately wanted to escape, and said, “Nope, sorry. Back in bed plea—­” My heart stuttered, and I froze when I heard my phone chime from where I'd left it charging in my room at the same time that Graham put his phone in his pocket. “Uh . . . say good night to Deacon and Graham, and I'll be in your room in just a minute to tuck you back in,” I finished quickly, then slipped away from the boys to head toward my room in search of my phone.

It was one thing for Graham to say things that linked him to Stranger, it would be another if the message waiting for me was from Stranger after having watched Graham text someone. I could feel it, that end when all of this became real, and I wasn't ready for it. I wasn't ready to lose this person who had helped me learn so much in such a short amount of time. I wasn't ready to lose this person that I had such a strange connection with. And I wasn't ready to find out that Stranger was Graham LaRue, when I so desperately wanted him to be someone I knew he never would be.

Irrational, betraying heart.

I blew out a relieved breath when it ended up being only a message from Jagger letting me know he was happy for me, and was sorry for having to leave earlier.

Not that I blamed him. Since Jagger and Grey had to delay their trip to Seattle last weekend, they were leaving early the next morning to see friends and catch the last few days of an art show that Jagger had some pieces in.

Truthfully, I was ready for them to finally go to Seattle. I was worried that even with a place separate from them, I would still have to endure Jagger's endless questions about Deacon, like how I was feeling, and what was I thinking planning something with him in the first place.

In other words, the parental-­type talks had been in full force ever since Saturday night, and I needed a break.

I left my phone on the nightstand so it could continue charging, and walked back down the hall toward the living room. My footsteps slowed when I found it empty, but then I heard Deacon and Keith's voices coming from Keith's new room at the opposite end of the house.

Graham was already gone.

“What? No way, kid! Batman can't beat Superman!”

“Yeah huh! 'Cause I'm so supa strong.”

“But Superman's stronger. Like, ladybugs can't even touch him, he's so awesome.”

I peeked into the room in time to see Keith smack his forehead with his open palm. “Ladybugs can't touch
Darf Vaber
. How many times I hafta tell you?”

“What if Superman just used his laser eyes to kill all the ladybugs in the world?”

Keith sucked in a huge breath, then faltered. “Whoa.”

Deacon nodded slowly. “Yeah, kid. Whoa.”

I froze against Keith's doorjamb when both boys looked over at me, and stammered, “Uh, it's t—­you rea—­it's bedtime.”

Keith sighed exaggeratedly, but shuffled over to me for a quick kiss, then to his bed when Deacon said good night.

I swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the way Deacon's eyes devoured me as he ate up the distance separating us.

Those same eyes held so many unspoken questions when he stepped close to me, but before he could voice any of them, or I could ask him to leave, the doorbell rang.

“Whoa cool! Mommy! Did you hear it?”

“I did,” I said uneasily as I wondered who could be at the door. “Get under the covers, buddy, I've gotta go—­”

“I've got it,” Deacon murmured, cutting me off.

“It's my house.”

“And it's for me,” he argued gently, and stretched his hand out behind him to hold me back.

It worked. I was so terrified of what I would feel the second he touched me that I nearly jumped away from his touch.

I still followed a few feet behind him after shutting Keith's door, and listened intently when he answered my door.

After a minute, he shut the door and sent me a challenging look as he stood there holding a pizza box. “Knew I wasn't going to make it in time to help, and figured if you let me in at all, you were going to kick me out as fast as you could . . .”

“And you think pizza will stop me from doing that?” I asked when he didn't continue.

“No, but I'm hoping it'll help.” I would have expected him to look smug then, but he was just standing there waiting. His expression showed that he was waiting for me to make him leave.

I grabbed the box from him and turned to walk to the kitchen. I didn't look back at him, but I knew he followed me. “I find it incredibly convenient that you didn't show up until Jagger was gone tonight, especially considering I didn't know you were coming at all.”

“Graham asked me to come help, and, like I said earlier, I got caught up at the garage.”

I glanced at him from over my shoulder and forced a smile as I dropped the box on the kitchen island. It felt like a sneer. “Did you?”