6. Deacon
DEACON
What I feel is wrong on so many levels.
My dick is hard, either again or still, I’m not sure, but when I close my eyes, it’s Beck’s dusky-pink nipples and round, perky breasts I see in my mind, and my stomach swirls with disgust at myself.
It had taken everything in me to exit her room after she fell headlong into a deep sleep, snores and all.
And yeah, I’m a good guy, but the temptation had been great.
My ass remained in that chair, staring at her slim, muscular back for nearly an hour, guarding her and pondering my feelings for her. Now sleep won’t come.
I feel restless and confused. To some extent, I must admit to myself that these feelings have always been inside me; I’d just buried them deep enough, I thought they would never surface.
But now that Beck is a free woman, the adoration I feel for her clobbers me over the head.
Though, I know I can’t let on what I feel, especially during this vulnerable time in her life, when she’s heartbroken over Sean’s infidelity and overall douchebaggery.
The truth is, I want to break his neck for what he’s done to her in their entire relationship.
I’d never seen a woman so faithful, so loving, as Beck had always been to Sean, and that fucker hadn’t deserved it from the first second they met.
He’d done nothing but fall short of deserving her every moment of their relationship.
Between his hectic on-call schedule he couldn’t help and total lack of giving a shit about her being at home waiting on him, Sean was unavailable and unreliable at best.
I can’t count the number of times Sean went out with the guys to hit the bars or clubs and flirted excessively with other women.
Danced with them, far too close, touched them intimately, all while ignoring Beck’s texts.
I made a habit of letting Beck know when we were leaving at night, which annoyed Sean in case he wanted to keep the party going somewhere else.
Or with someone else. At her place, of course, never his.
I’d suspected he cheated—not once or twice, as Beck seems to think, but frequently.
It’s a struggle not to blame myself. I should have told Beck to stop wasting her twenties on Sean, should have told Sean more often to be better, but I just hung back and let it play out.
Now I feel like a piece of shit about it.
Someone should have been looking out for Beck. Putting her first.
So, I will, from now on.
Finally, merciful sleep gives me a reprieve from my self-flagellation.
When my alarm goes off a few hours later, I brush my teeth, comb my hair, and throw on slacks and a light blue button- down. I grab the aspirin and another water out of the minibar, and I let myself into her room right across the hallway.
Beck’s on top of the sheet, mostly naked except for a pair of skimpy panties, and I don’t know how to look away.
Still, I try to be noble. Reaching for the blanket rolled up at the bottom of the bed, I pull it up over her and set the water and three more pills on the bedside table.
Next, I grab her phone and set an alarm to make sure she doesn't miss the going-away brunch.
I perch with my shoulder on the doorframe, just watching Beck for a minute. Her light-brown hair is kissed by the sun, causing blonde streaks to dance through it. It’s messy and covers much of her face, and I long to reach out and tame the silky locks for her.
Beck sleeps with her mouth closed, and she breathes heavily in and out through her nose, which is dotted with the perfect number of freckles that also stretch across her cheekbones from all her time in the sun.
She’s beautiful—stunning, even in sleep.
Maybe even more so when she sleeps, so peacefully.
With all the gentleness I can muster, I glide my fingertips beneath the hair in her eyes and smooth it back so I can see the entirety of her face.
I reach down and smooth my thumb over the front of her hand, catching a glance at the cushion-shaped turquoise ring that had once sparkled on my mother’s hand. It’s right that it’s here with Beck. It suits her spunky, Bohemian personality, and Mom would be thrilled to know it ended up Beck’s.
When she groans and pulls a pillow over her head, I roll my eyes at myself for admiring Beck for so long.
Finally, I stand, take a backward glance at the beauty sleeping in the lodge bed, and let myself out of her room and back into my own.
Why is my heart thumping wildly in my chest? It’s just Beck. The woman I’d been friends with for a decade.
The one I’d laid eyes on first. My foot wants to kick something, but this room is too well-appointed to take my frustration out on it, so I just breathe through the recollection of the first time I laid eyes on Aspyn Beckett and tell myself that things always happen the way they’re meant to.
Back when we’d met, I was still a kid. Now, I’m a man with strong shoulders for her to cry on, and a deep longing to take care of her in a way only a man can.
With a start, I realize Beck is everything to me. Maybe she always has been.
And this is what they call being up shit’s creek.