25. Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-five
Phoebe
I held my breath as I unlocked my door after work on Monday, my heart thudding unevenly. I had no idea what I’d find on the other side. Deacon had been occupying my bed for three days, his fever coming and going, his strength wavering. He had insisted he was leaving multiple times, but I wasn’t in a rush for him to go—not when he was still sick and wouldn’t take care of himself the way he needed. He’d tried to go to work this morning, still running a fever and barely able to keep his eyes open longer than ten minutes.
I exhaled the moment my gaze landed on him, half reclined on my couch, a blanket tangled around his legs. His head rested on the back cushion, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling slowly. Relief softened my tense shoulders. “You’re still here,” I whispered.
His eyes fluttered open as I stepped inside, his gaze locking onto mine. He sat up, the blanket slipping on his lap. “I can go.” He rubbed a hand over his face, scrubbing at the stubble on his jaw. “I should.”
“No, you shouldn’t.” I dropped my bags and shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door. “If I don’t keep an eye on you, you’ll probably go build a bookcase while your teeth are clacking from shivering so hard.”
His mouth moved like he was trying to smile. “It’d end up crooked and wobbly. Probably best I don’t try.” He nodded in the direction of the refrigerator. “Tilly dropped off soup earlier. She told me not to hog it all. Thought we could share it for dinner.”
I perched on the couch beside him. “Do you have an appetite?”
He flattened a hand on his abdomen. “It’s coming back, I think. I can handle soup.”
I studied his face, taking in the pale hue of his skin and the dark shadows beneath his eyes. He looked better than he had yesterday, but that wasn’t saying much. “I hope that means you’re on the mend.”
Without thinking, my hand lifted to brush his hair off his forehead, but I stopped myself just in time, curling my fingers into my lap instead. It was one thing to touch him when he was delirious with fever, but his gaze had cleared and was locked on me with an intensity that made my pulse skip. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought that look was…yearning.
His eyes flicked down to my clenched hand before sliding back up to my face. “I’ll be out of your way soon enough.”
The thought of him leaving left a hollow ache inside me. Having him here felt natural. Easy. Too good.
I’d spent Sunday taking care of him. He’d been too weak to talk much, but he’d managed to mumble an apology. I’d let it lay. He’d been in no shape for any kind of conversation, and I wasn’t sure I wanted one.
Oh, who was I kidding? Of course, I wanted that conversation. I wanted him to explain away his hurtful behavior so we could pick back up where we’d left off, but the realist in me was overruling my whimsical side. I was helping him because it was the right thing to do. Once he was better, we were done. We had to be.
We shared a quiet dinner, then I helped him to bed. I stayed up a little while after him, but not long. After showering and putting on my pajamas, I crawled in beside him.
Deacon stirred, cracking his eyes open. “Sugar,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges.
“It’s my lotion,” I whispered back.
He reached for my hand under the covers, curling his fingers around mine. “It’s you.”
A shiver slid up my spine, and my breath caught in my throat. “Deacon—”
“Go to sleep, Phoebe.” His thumb brushed my knuckles in a slow, lazy caress. “You need your rest. I saw how hard it was for you to get out of bed this morning.”
Like it was every morning. Deacon was still too sick to have gleaned me and mornings never mixed; we just had a temporary accord. The thing was, it was even harder to get out of bed when he was still in it.
“Good night, Deacon.”
His hand tightened around mine. “Night, sugar.”
We had one more night. One more coming home to him, sharing dinner, and falling asleep together. Wednesday evening, I was greeted with an empty apartment and a note on my kitchen island.
Phoebe,
Thank you for everything. It couldn’t have been easy having me stay with you. You’ll never know how much I appreciate all you and your mom have done for me.
I’m sorry for hurting you. I think I said that, but it bears repeating.
I’ll let you get back to your life now.
Deke
And that was that. No trace he’d ever been here. Even the sheets had been changed. Deacon was gone.
Saturday afternoon, I returned home to flowers in my planters—flowers I hadn’t put there. It might’ve been too early in the season for them, but they were bright and colorful and made me smile.
I checked my doorbell camera app. Sure enough, there was video of Deacon on my stoop, planting the flowers.
As I stood there looking at the flowers, my smile faded.
How dare he?
I didn’t want this kind of gesture from him. Being sweet after making me feel so rotten was like rubbing salt in the wound. I had to move on, but he kept reminding me of what could have been—or what I’d thought we could have been.
I spun in a circle, at a loss. Deke’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. Even if I wanted to tell him to shove his flowers, I couldn’t. Not that I would have. The flowers were innocent in this.
Just as I decided to go inside to cool my jets, the rumble of Deke’s truck stopped me. Moments later, he parked in the drive and hopped out. He lifted his head, spotting me on my landing. I was too far away to read his exact expression, but he didn’t avert his gaze. We both stood staring at each other for a long, drawn-out moment. So long, I began to think he might turn right back around and hop into his truck. Eventually, Deke moved, slowly approaching the stairs.
I backed up until I hit my door. I had no clue what I wanted to say, but I knew something had to be said.
He arrived on my stoop, rooting himself two feet away. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his cheeks were sunken. He’d lost weight he hadn’t been able to afford to lose while he’d been sick, but I wondered if he was fully better. Probably not. He should have been resting. He should have been—
Deke finally spoke, breaking me out of my worried spiral. “Almost ten years ago, you asked me to catch a movie with you, and I said no.”
He really didn’t need to remind me of that. “I remember. It sucked.”
“Yeah. For me too. I would have given any damn thing to be able to say yes.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a pained expression crinkling his brow. “I don’t know why, but messing with me has always been one of my brother’s favorite pastimes, and I knew, if word got around I went out with you, he’d find a way to ruin it. Having Richie’s attention on you has never ended well. I couldn’t do that to you.”
“I—” didn’t know what to say . “It would have been good to know that back then. I just thought you didn’t like me that way.”
He took a step forward. “That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I’d never let myself like anyone until you, and that was less about letting myself and more me being bowled over. I used to think about you all the time. Changed my route to class so I’d pass you. When you smiled at me, it made me feel important in a way I never had.” He chuffed. “And haven’t since. Not until you shined your light on me after I moved in here.”
I rubbed my chest, but it did nothing to alleviate the tightness. “Why are you talking about this now? What does it matter?”
“It matters because a lot’s changed”—he moved into my space, so close, his toes hit mine—“but two things haven’t: how I feel about you and my asshole brother.”
I closed my eyes. If I allowed myself to continue looking at his face bathed in sincerity, I wouldn’t be able to stop from leaning into him. “You lied to me.”
“I did, and I regretted it even before I did it. I thought I could meet Richie and keep him separate from what I’m trying to build for myself here, so it never touched you.” Rocking back on his heels, he sighed. “I should’ve told you where I was going and why, but all I could think about was keeping him far, far away from you, Joy, this town.”
“Lying to me isn’t protecting me.”
“Know it.” He started to bow his head but raised it again, keeping his eyes on mine. “I’ll never forget the look on your face that night. Never .”
I lifted a hand to ward off him and all the feelings flooding me. “I still don’t get why you’re telling me all this.”
He was direct and unwavering. “I want another chance.”
My heart kicked up even as my eyes narrowed on him. “I don’t understand why you’re trying now. That night, you didn’t even apologize to me, and now you’re here, planting flowers, being sweet, and—what am I supposed to do with this, Deacon? How do I trust this one-eighty? I saw you on a date .”
He shook his head hard. “Wasn’t a date, Phoebe. There’s only been one woman who’s ever turned my head, and that’s you. Richie blindsided me with that woman, and I left as soon as I could. I couldn’t even tell you her name or anything else about her. But when I saw you, I couldn’t acknowledge you. Not with Richie there. Knowing you mean something to me, I don’t know what he would have done, and I don’t care to find out.” He scrubbed the side of his face. “It’s no excuse. I made the wrong choice by not telling you I was meeting Richie. I got myself where I am.”
“Where we are,” I whispered.
His head jerked, recrimination twisting his features. “Where we are, yeah. I got us here. Messed it all up. I was going to let you go. If I were better, I would. But for once in my life, I want something good. I will work my ass off to be worthy of all your good. I’m asking if we can try to start over. You don’t have to answer me now. Think about it as long as you need. I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“What about Richie? Is he going to be a part of your life?”
“No, he isn’t.” His jaw rippled from how hard he clenched it. “I have no control over him, but he also has no control over me anymore. If he comes calling, I’ll turn him away. That night, I made it as clear as I could we were one and done. And after I went to prison for helping him, he owes me that. Whether he’ll give it to me is up in the air, but I’m done with him. I won’t give him any more.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, mulling over his words. My gut told me this was too important to rush—not that I was prone to making snap decisions anyway. When it came down to it, I believed what he was saying. That didn’t mean I’d automatically trust him. He’d purposely lied to me. Albeit, he’d done a bad job of it since I’d sensed something was off, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do better next time.
“Hold the line .”
Tilly had been right about him coming to me. Whether he was worth the risk was yet to be seen.
But my instincts screamed I already knew the answer. And it wasn’t childhood nostalgia leading me there—it was the man I’d come to know now.
“When I first opened the bakery, a customer asked me out. He was a regular. We’d chatted a few times, and he seemed nice, so I accepted. We started seeing each other, and even though he’d just moved to Laramie to teach at the university, our dates were always here, in town. I never questioned it, but I should have. Turned out he was married. His wife had moved to Wyoming a few months after him, and that was it. He’d told me himself why we were over, and I’d been devastated.”
Deke grunted, displeasure written all over in the hunch of his shoulders and a deep frown dragging his mouth south. “I bet.”
“It wasn’t some grand love affair,” I clarified. “I didn’t miss him when it was over. What crushed me was realizing I’d been the other woman without even knowing it. He lied to me over and over, and I never saw it coming. That changed me. I never date customers, which is no skin off my back, but in here”—I tapped the center of my chest—“I can’t see the world the same anymore. My glasses had been rosy before Jared, and he’d knocked them right off in one fell swoop. Now, there’s always this voice in my head, wondering if I’m being lied to. And, Deke, I can’t do that with my person. I can’t fall for someone if I’m constantly questioning their honesty.”
His jaw tightened, regret softening his eyes. “I get that, and I’m sorry as hell you crossed paths with that guy.”
“Me too.”
“I see why you wouldn’t want to forgive me. I gave you good reason not to take me at my word. All I can promise is I’ll prove to you I won’t ever keep anything from you again. I need time to do that.” The tips of his fingers brushed my knuckles. “I’m standing here, asking for you to give that to me. I know full well I don’t have the right, but I’m doing it anyway.”
My fingers moved on their own accord, catching his as they passed. He stilled while I scoured him for the truth behind his promises. It was there, plain as day. The same ways his lies had been obvious to me when he’d told them.
His fingers curled around mine, making my heart stutter and my mouth dry.
I licked my lips, but it did little to help. I wanted to say yes and launch myself at him, but the hurt of that damn headshake held me back.
I pulled my hand from his. “I need to think, Deke. Can you give me that?”
He let out a jagged breath and nodded. “Of course, Phoebe. I’ll give you space, but I’m not going to be far.”
He kept his promise, leaving me at my door. But the next day, I caught him watering my flowers through the doorbell camera. The morning after that, the low rumble of his truck greeted me as I left for work. And when I walked home, his footsteps echoed mine.
A week passed with Deacon as my shadow—always near yet respecting the space he'd promised. He cared for the flowers he’d planted in the planters he’d built, proving with each quiet act he was all in.
And each day, I softened more and more until I questioned whether I was dragging this out too far. No matter what test I threw at this man, I had a feeling he would pass, but I was beginning to think it was unfair. Deacon had hurt me, yes—but maybe I was punishing him for wounds another man had left behind.
I could not allow my fear to be used as a punishment against this man, who had already paid more than his fair share of dues.
Saturday afternoon, halfway home from work, I stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face him. At first, he stilled, but when I curled my finger to beckon him, he closed the distance between us.
I reached for his hand, hooking one finger around his. “That night I texted you...I knew you were keeping something from me. You’re not great at lying—not even through words on a screen.”
“No. I’m not.” He huffed a low laugh. “You’d think I’d be better at it, coming from a family who wouldn’t know the truth if it bit them in the face. But I can’t lie to save my life. More than that—I don’t want to lie to you.”
I nodded, believing him. “Tilly told me you were worth it. She said if I held the line, you’d come back. I didn’t believe her. Even when you showed up last week. But here you are—you keep showing up.”
“Here I am,” he murmured. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
“You came to me two weeks ago—passed out on my welcome mat.”
His mouth flattened. “Not my finest moment, dammit.”
“Well, I’m glad you chose my porch to take a nap on.”
He cocked his head in wonder. “Phoebe…?”
Making a decision I truly hoped I didn’t regret, I turned my hand to lace our fingers together. “I’m going to hold the line, Deacon, and give you the chance to prove it.”
“Hold the line,” he repeated, tasting the words. “Are you sure?”
I nodded. “I’ve had weeks to think it over. I miss you. And if we’re going to close this breach, I need to be with you. It might take time to get past what happened...but I’d like to spend that time with you.”
“I’d really like that too.” His free arm curved around my waist, drawing me closer. “Can I start by taking you to dinner?”
I slid my hand up his chest and over his shoulder. “A date?”
“Yeah, sugar.” His lips brushed mine. “I’d like to take you on a date.”
Just like that, this man made me glad I’d chosen to hold the line for him.