Chapter 36
ISAAC
Evan and Deacon are both tense until I get two glasses of wine into each of them. And even after that, they’re still tense, but Evan occasionally smiles at one of my jokes, and Deacon’s clearly hornier.
While Evan talks, Deacon runs his hand up and down my thigh beneath the table, ensuring that with each pass, his knuckles brush either my cock or balls. Needless to say, I’m very, very hard.
Evan eats about half his food and only one of the Brussels sprouts even though I think they came out great.
Deacon quietly praises the meal, calling the steak perfect. It hasn’t escaped me that neither of them is speaking to each other, but they do speak to me, which gives the illusion we’re having a conversation. It could be worse?
If someone were to ask me which of the two of them was more upset, though, I wouldn’t be able to answer. They’re not despondent or anything. It’s just—tense.
And I’ve got an erection that’s all dressed up with no place to go. I rise to clear the dishes, and Deacon is right behind me. “You want to borrow some more comfortable clothes?” he asks.
“I’m all right.”
“Are you staying?”
“Are you two gonna start speaking to each other?” I ask loudly enough for both of them to hear.
“We already spoke,” Evan says.
Deacon makes a frustrated noise and drops a plate into the sink with a clank. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he turns on the water. “Talk,” he insists. “I thought we were good, but you’re right. You’re acting like you’ve got something to say.”
I glance in Evan’s direction, but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to say anything. He looks shocked. “What’s going on?” I ask.
It’s an open question, but neither of them answer.
“Someone needs to start talking.”
“When are you guys gonna get I don’t like talking? Every time we try, something like this happens, so I’m gonna call it overrated,” Deacon says.
I put my hand on his lower back. “Something like what?”
“I start feeling like shit,” he says. “I don’t know how to do this either, but I was the only one people thought was single Saturday night—so I can’t be the only one fucking it up.”
Evan looks completely called out. A huge part of me wants to step in and take some of the blame for that, but I don’t know what started this, and I’m hesitant to get in the middle of it. All I say is, “No one’s fucking anything up.”
Evan looks like he’s about two seconds from walking out the door, but I’ve never seen Deacon like this either, so whether it’s the right call or not, I keep my hand on him.
“This shouldn’t feel so forced,” Deacon says.
“Who’s forcing anything?” I ask, searching his face but finding nothing there.
Deacon gestures at Evan. “Look, I can’t just grow a relationship with someone overnight. I’m not as good at this as you are.”
“I’m sorry,” Evan says. “How many times do I have to say it?”
“No—wait,” I say, “Let’s take a second, and we can talk about this. Do you need a minute?” I ask Deacon.
“We have talked about it. But also, conversation isn’t my love language,” Deacon says with a slight note of derision, but I catch the defensiveness in it, too.
While I’ve never had trouble communicating with him, I understand it’s something he struggles with.
I don’t have the same issues he does, but I do have difficulty talking about how I feel.
My reasons might be different, but I can relate.
I have to make myself do it, and it’s usually only when my back is against the wall, or it’s already too late.
Telling Evan how I felt about him that morning in the park was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Putting myself out there emotionally has rarely gotten me anything other than kicked in the nuts.
Evan is visibly paler than he was a minute ago. “I don’t think I should be here right now,” he says quietly.
“Great. Make me look like the asshole.”
“Deacon,” I say, nearly pleading.
“No,” Evan says. “You made it clear I’m the asshole. I’m still not sure what the fuck I did besides talk to your friends at your party, or fuck my boss before you met him, but if it was unforgivable, I guess there’s not much else I can add.”
“You know what? Fuck this.” Deacon throws a fork in the sink and storms out of the room. My heart thuds as I watch him go, and then I turn slowly back to Evan.
“What the fuck?” I ask him.
He looks bewildered, but his question is direct. “Do you really think we can work like this?”
“I have no idea what’s going on,” I admit.
“I’m not sure how to explain it.” He gestures at the hallway where Deacon disappeared. “He’s been frustrated with me since he got home.”
“Why?”
“I think he thinks I’m trying to take you away from him.”
I glance over my shoulder like Deacon might be there to confirm or deny this. He’s not. “Did you give him a reason to think that?”
Evan throws up his hands. “You tell me. You’ve been with me whenever I’m not with him. All I can tell you is I’m trying to figure out where I fit in. That’s all I can do.”
That tracks, but it doesn’t explain Deacon’s outburst.
“Did you say something?” Evan asks. “To make him think you want us to work this out between ourselves?”
“Of course not.”
“And if we can’t?” he asks. “Are you going to pick one of us?”
“I think everybody just needs a minute to cool off.”
“Answer the question, Isaac.”
“If I say I don’t want to pick, does that make me the asshole?”
“No, but I think it’s a copout,” Evan says.
I fold my arms and lean a hip against the island. “How’s that?”
“It puts all the pressure on me and Deacon. How’s that fair?”
“What pressure? You had one fight.”
“Yeah, a fight about whether we’re capable of sharing the guy we care about with someone else. A fight about whether he and I even work together.”
“Evan, Jesus Christ.”
“Just because you don’t see it that way doesn’t mean we don’t. I know he does. He wasn’t out here yelling at you, was he?”
“Everything was fine.” I’m still reeling from how fast we’re moving downhill.
“Apparently not. I mean—it’s all great when everyone’s hard and someone’s getting off, but give us an hour where we actually have to deal with each other with our clothes on, and it all falls apart? That’s not healthy, Isaac.”
It says something shameful about me that my immediate instinct is to say then let’s get naked and work it out, but I’m able to keep that thought inside.
“What are you upset about?” I ask. “Specifically. Because if we need to communicate, let’s fucking do it.”
“Specifically, he told me I keep putting myself in the middle.”
Something in me deflates. Evan didn’t put himself in the middle. I put him in the middle. Because I want him in my life so much, I would ask anything of anyone to keep him here.
“Help me out, because when you were at the farmer’s market, it looked like you guys were solid.”
“I guess he’s over it. He wants you,” Evan says. “He’ll take me if I’m part of the package, but this could be what that looks like. So if that’s what you want…”
“It doesn’t have to be like this,” I say.
“You can’t know that, Isaac. I know you want us all to be happy and in love, but you’ve never been in a relationship like this before, either. You should have let me go when I asked you to.”
“Let you go? What happened to the guy who wanted me five days a week every week for the last five months?”
Evan’s gaze makes him look dead inside. “That guy thought he was enough for you.”
“No.” I refuse to allow those words to occupy any space. “You never thought that. You never tried to stop me from dating other men, which I noticed. So what is this really about?”
“You had to know this wouldn’t be easy. That you couldn’t just snap your fingers and have two boyfriends who had no baggage or insecurities, right?”
“So, what? You want me to choose?” I gesture in the direction of Deacon’s room. “What happened to the crush you had on him?”
“He fell for you.”
“You’re being impossible.”
“Then pick him.”
I stare hard at Evan and shake my head. “I’m not fucking picking anyone. I can’t.”
Evan hangs his head. “I know you can’t,” he whispers.
In the silence, I rub a hand on my brow and look over my shoulder. Deacon’s still not out here, and maybe it’s better that way, but I want him.
“Go,” he says in a low voice.
I turn back to him. “You want me to leave?”
“No, I mean go to him.”
“Are you coming?”
He shakes his head. “Not tonight.”
“Why does this feel like a trap?”
He closes his eyes, a look of resignation pulling at his beautiful features. “It’s not a trap. He needs you.”
I hate this. He’s shoving me away, and I feel it as much as I would if he were using his actual hands and the full force of his weight. “And you?”
“I need to think.”
I fucking hate the way he says it. It’s like a hammer to my heart. I don’t want to leave the room without him. It feels like if I do, I might never see him again. “I’m just gonna check on him. Can we talk afterwards?”
He opens his eyes but doesn’t look at me. “You know where I live.”
I leave the mess in the sink and Evan at the table to walk down the bedroom hallway and hope like hell he’ll still be here when I’m done making sure Deacon is all right.
I knock lightly on Deacon’s door. I’m planning to open it after a second, but he opens it for me.
He’s changed into a pair of lounge pants, no shirt. “What’s going on?” he asks.
“Can I come in?”
He frowns when he doesn’t see Evan, but steps aside. I walk in, and he closes the door behind me. I turn to find him leaning back on it, looking at me like he’ll take me any way I come. A complete change in demeanor.
I reach out to touch his face and step closer. “Are you okay?”
He leans his cheek into my palm, holding my gaze before sliding a hand behind my waistband and pulling my body against his. “Is this real?”
I nod, my gaze flicking between his mouth and his eyes.
“Is Evan all right?” he asks, looking doubtful.
“Why do you think he’s trying to take me from you?”
“Because you love him. And he’s falling for you.”