Chapter 44 - Isaac
ISAAC
Deacon looks up from my phone where Evan’s email remains on the screen. We’re side by side on the terrace sofa with Evan’s words sitting between us. He puts an arm around me, and I close my eyes, wrapping both mine around him. He sighs against my hair. “That was confusing as fuck,” he says.
I try to smile but don’t manage it. He can’t see my face anyway.
I make a noise that mimics amusement. I put it mildly in my email to Evan that this has been a rough month.
It’s been incredibly difficult. Jake’s recovery has been slow and painful.
I’ve missed a lot of work. While my brother’s physical injuries have improved, and he looks more like himself, his mood is low and miserable.
He won’t talk to me about what happened except to say he didn’t start it, and he doesn’t mind the lawsuit I’ve filed.
He understands he’ll have to make a statement and maybe testify if the other kid’s family won’t settle, but still—I’m as clueless as I was that first night about what nearly gave my little brother permanent brain damage.
I’m not convinced it didn’t. His entire personality has changed.
He spends his days listening to dark, depressing music, or philosophical audiobooks on his headphones.
The recovery from the concussion is slow, and his use of screens has had to be severely limited, otherwise he winds up with horrible migraines that nothing but time help.
Deacon’s been here every day cooking, cleaning, keeping me company with his presence and his body, but not so much with words.
I’m not saying I can’t talk to him. I can.
And he does listen and respond with support and offers of help.
But where he really shines is in bed where words aren’t necessary, and all our feelings for each other manifest themselves in physical acts. His body is the safest space I have.
The thing is, he doesn’t spend the night.
Not on weekdays anyway. We argued about it until I realized arguing with him is pointless—at least on this topic.
He’s attached to his apartment and to his morning routine.
I’m glad he’s fit me into his evenings and weekends, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
Still, when he’s here, I attach myself to him as much as I possibly can.
It’s the only time I feel even remotely sane.
It was late one night alone after he left that I started missing Evan so much it made my chest nearly cave in.
I experienced my first full-fledged panic attack.
Following that, I had to reach out. My mind was a blur, and my fingers were shaking as I typed my pathetic letter to him.
I didn’t even re-read it before I hit send.
“Why’d you reach out?” Deacon asks.
“I missed him,” I say simply.
He’s quiet, but he doesn’t stop holding me.
“Do you not?” I ask.
“I do. It didn’t feel right to say it, though.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to think I need anything more than this. I don’t,” he says.
I wish I could say the same thing, but it’s never been that simple for me.
I’ve wanted and needed them both. From the moment I brought Deacon home with me, Evan has always been a part of the negotiation between us.
Deacon knew from the start how I felt about my former assistant.
What I’ve never been able to pin down is how Deacon feels about Evan.
If he has any feelings of his own for him, or if he was only tolerating him because it was what I needed.
I don’t know why I’m like this. It’s not like Evan put his foot down and was willing to fight for me the way Deacon was.
But I also think about how much smoother this last month might have been if Evan were here.
Despite a few bumps here and there, he made my life easier every day, and I don’t think that would have changed if he’d had to work from my home office while I had to be here to keep an eye on Jake.
“Are you happy it’s just us?” I ask.
“You’re not,” Deacon says.
I frown and pull away. “Don’t say that. I’m not unhappy.”
“I don’t think it’s fair that he left. I’m angry with him.”
“I don’t want you to be angry with him.”
He lets his arm drop from around my shoulders.
“You don’t get to decide that for me. It sucks that he gave up on you, but he gave up on me first. It’s not fair that he said he’d try, and then he bailed before anybody had a chance to see if it could work.
So I’m angry because I know he’s got things you need—and I want those things for you. ”
“What about what you need?” I ask.
“All I needed was a chance. That was all I asked for. I knew things with him weren’t moving as fast as things with you and me did, but I wanted the chance to get there.”
“What do you miss about him?” I ask, curious.
Deacon grimaces, like he doesn’t want to think about the good in Evan, not while he’s entrenched in his anger. “His friendship,” Deacon says. “And his—I don’t know. His light? I guess. I have a list.”
“Light is a good word for it,” I say.
“You know what I mean?”
I feel like I understand Evan’s light better than anyone.
Evan possesses a fun streak Deacon and I don’t have.
Diamond-shaped butt plugs and all. He was playful and a tease and even a brat at times, but he did it all with a sparkle I’ve long since lost, and frankly I don’t think Deacon has—not without Evan anyway.
That night we were all here, taking turns with each other in bed—he had it then.
“I know what you mean,” I say. “Are you upset I reached out?”
He shakes his head. “No, I get it. Thanks for showing me the emails.”
“I’m not trying to hide anything from you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“Would you ever want to reach out?”
“I’m not sure I’d be as nice as you were,” he says.
“He’s my weakness. What can I say?”
“He’s like a rock in my fucking shoe.”
I stroke Deacon’s cheek. “I love you,” I tell him. It’s the first time I’ve ever said it to him out loud, and he looks at me with something like curiosity in his dark blue eyes.
“Yeah?”
I nod.
“I feel like I should respond to that somehow.”
“No.” I run my hand through his hair. “I just wanted you to know. And now you do.”
“Thanks,” he says softly.
I smile. “You’re welcome.”
“Why?” he asks.
“I’ll make you a list, but in summary, I think you’re amazing, and I’m glad you’re in my life.”
“The list would really be helpful,” he says.
I kiss him gently. “I know, and you’ll get it. It’ll be long, though, and it might not make sense, but I promise, there are plenty of reasons.”
“It’s not like an equation, is it? It’s more of a feeling?” Deacon asks.
“It’s a lot of feelings, and they do add up, but no, I don’t think I can compare it to math.”
“Can you be happy with me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Completely happy?”
I understand what he’s asking, and he has every right to ask.
The answer is still yes. But there’s a caveat: eventually.
I’m not over Evan. I haven’t been able to wrap my mind around a life he’s not an intimate part of.
I don’t doubt I’ll move past it. Everything feels unbalanced now with Jake living here and my erratic work schedule, but eventually I’ll ease back into normal—or a new normal.
Instead of answering Deacon’s question directly, I pivot. “I’d be happier if you stayed the night more often.”
“That’s not—”
I cut him off with a kiss and lean into him, pinning him to the sofa. “I know it’s not. But it’s true.”
His hand lands on my hip, and I slide one of mine up the front of his shirt, my fingers climbing the rungs of his abs like a ladder as they quiver beneath my touch. “Would you be happier if he were here?” he asks.
“Only if he was happy to be here,” I say. “And if you were.”
“Would you choose?” he asks.
“No. You already have my choice. You both do. It hasn’t changed.”
“You want us both.”
“I want you both. But I love you, and I won’t let you go.”
“I wouldn’t go,” he says.
In a move that’s not like me at all, I swing my leg over his lap, suddenly desperate to be closer to him.
As close as possible. I kiss him again for saying he’d never leave me.
I get that tomorrow isn’t a given, and no one can tell the future, but it is the thought that counts sometimes, and, in Deacon’s case, the words.
The words always count so much more from him.
I wish mine meant as much to him, but I know what does.
With my hand tightening over his pec, I deepen our kiss, and he shifts beneath me, grabbing hold of my ass to slam our cocks together.
He does give a nod to being in a relationship with me by always changing out of his work clothes when he gets to my apartment, so we’re both in sweats and long-sleeved t-shirts.
I feel him hardening beneath the thin layers of fleece, and I move against him to catch myself up.
On the list I’ll give him, this will be on there—somewhere close to the top where I mention how good of a cook he is, and how gorgeous I find his eyes. He’s so. Fucking. Sexy. Even better—he thinks I am, too.
“I’m not fucking you out here again. Jake almost saw last time.”
“Then take me to bed,” I tell him.
He gives my ass a hard squeeze. “Take yourself. Get off me.”
“I could come just like this if you keep kissing me.”
“I know you can, but I wanna put my cock inside you.”
“Mmph. Okay.”
He doesn’t disappoint. Once we’re naked in bed, he gets on top, kisses me, and fucks every drop of cum from my body before pulling out and shooting his load on my sweat-slicked abs. He then plunges his cock back into my hole and strokes out whatever’s left.
Since Evan moved away, it takes Deacon longer to come. I recognize my bottoming skills are still evolving, and he’s not complaining, but it’s something I notice. It’s not worth mentioning though. As long as he keeps having sex with me, I’ll be fine.
And maybe it’s got nothing to do with Evan or his absence, but I think about it. And I wonder if it would be different if he were here.
But of course it would be. This is what I get for thinking after having my brains fucked out while Deacon is sucking a mark onto my chest. I wrap my arms around him and let my body rock with his, finding calm in his steady rhythm and the warm pressure of his embrace.