46. Lyla
Chapter forty-six
Lyla
When I woke up, I was still in Deacon’s bed. However, when I rolled over to face him, he wasn't there.
I sat up slowly and put my hand to my forehead. Last night had happened, correct? I let the man I had been wanting inside me actually come inside me. We used protection, so at least we had that going for us. I had never not used protection, but as my hand slid over the empty side of the bed, one thing was clear. Last night definitely happened because I still felt where he had been.
Deacon left me sore but wanting more. He also left me sounding like Dr. Seuss for the second time this year. I replayed the reel of last night’s performance, and my core tightened at the memory of his mouth on mine and the slow, delicious pace of his dick as he—
“Morning, Brooks.” Deacon closed the bedroom door behind him and pulled a towel over his head. He was shirtless, and a few lucky water droplets ran down his chest.
Good morning to me.
“Good morning.” I crossed my legs and ran my fingers through my tangled mess of bedhead. “How long have you been up?”
“Not long.” Deacon rummaged through his closet and pulled out a T-shirt. His black boxer briefs hugged his ass, and it was a shame he had to cover it with a pair of sweatpants. “ Maybe fifteen minutes? I haven’t gone downstairs yet. I wanted to wait for you.”
The new rule I presented last night left a horrendous taste in my mouth. A man couldn’t look like Deacon while also being well-spoken and thoughtful. He was the holy grail of men, and I could sip on him all fucking day.
Deacon finally faced me, and when his eyes met mine, I lost all control of my effort not to smile. I waited for the alarm bells to go off in my head, but there was nothing but silence. I needed the crew to buck up and get back on their shit.
Not a real relationship, no lying, fuck around in private, and no love.
We continued staring, both of us trying to read the other. This was a crucial moment in our friendship, and everything we had worked for hung on how we handled the morning after.
He leaned over the mattress and rested his hands on either side of me. “Are we good?”
I kissed him softly, keeping my mouth closed because I was terrified of morning breath. “We’re good. Can I shower before we head down?”
“There are towels in the closet outside the bathroom. I’m actually gonna go downstairs to see if I need to brew more coffee.” He stopped halfway out the door and looked over his shoulder. “Wear one of my hoodies when you come down.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “Because it’s cute.”
I was glad he left because even when I hopped in the shower, I still felt the heat in my cheeks and the pull in my groin. I closed my eyes as the warm water ran over me, and I was thankful for the distraction. I washed away the feelings that seeped over from last night’s decision, and when I emerged from the bathroom, I felt replenished and ready to face the Scott family.
I slipped on one of Deacon’s hoodies and spritzed myself with some perfume. I might be wearing his clothes, but I still needed to make sure I was bringing some of the Original Lyla with me. This version of myself couldn’t be trusted to make sound decisions, especially since I was reliving the feeling of Deacon’s hands on my clit for the twelfth time this morning.
What was that song called? “The Twelve Days of Christmas”? The twelve orgasms of Christmas sounded much better. If anyone showed up with that many birds and expected me to be happy about it, I’d be fucking livid.
As soon as my feet left the bottom step of the stairs, I smelled the cinnamon rolls and coffee coming from the kitchen. I rounded the corner and found Drew standing in front of the coffee maker. It had been a while since I had coffee from a pot instead of a pod, but I was looking forward to the incoming caffeine high.
Drew handed me a mug and moved aside. I eyed him suspiciously as I poured, trying not to lose it at his innocent stare and boyish grin.
“Sleep okay?” he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Feeling well rested?”
“Yes, actually.” I placed the pot back on the burner and sipped my coffee. Drew pulled out a few creamers from the fridge for me to choose from. I picked up the caramel and gave the bottle a shake. “How about you?”
“I slept good. It was a quiet night before Christmas before something woke me up. I think it was a ‘Fuck, Deacon,’ maybe? I’m not entirely sure.”
The bottle slipped from my hand, and Drew caught it before it hit the floor .
“Relax,” he said, amused by my clumsy reaction. “Your secret is safe with me. I support this. Love this for the both of you.”
“Now it’s your turn to relax.” I brushed past him on my way to the living room, and he caught my elbow.
“Was last night the first time?”
“Drew, please drop it,” I practically begged. I was trying my damndest to forget it even happened, and my own body was turning against me. I didn’t need the lovable younger brother egging me on too.
Drew shook his head, unimpressed with my answer. “I just assumed it happened a while ago, that’s all.”
I rolled my eyes, putting on my best smile before I entered the cheerful scene in front of me. “Good morning, everyone.”
Deacon opened his arm as I sat next to him on the couch. His fingers grazed the side of my neck, and I swallowed.
These hands, these hands, these hands.
“Good morning, Lyla.” Georgia smiled, handing me a stocking.
I almost chucked it at Drew when he appeared in the background, mouthing, “Love this for you.”
“The glitter glue is a tradition,” Howard added. “So please excuse my sloppy handwriting.”
My heart swelled, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take from this precious family. I knew Deacon helped them with their gift ideas, but it showed how much he paid attention and how his parents wanted me to feel included.
I ran my hand over the shiny green writing. “It’s perfect. I love it.”
Georgia insisted that Deacon and I open our stocking stuffers first, and it wasn’t long before an impatient Drew went next. Howard brought out a small gift box for Georgia, and they exchanged an adorable glance when she unwrapped a gorgeous pair of earrings. It was completely different than the Christmas morning I was used to, and when my phone buzzed in my pocket, I knew it was my Christmas text from Aaron Brooks.
Dad
Merry Christmas, Lyla. I booked Miami for our spring break lunch. I’ll have Tonya send you the flight information. Let her know if Deacon has TSA so she can add it to his ticket.
Leave it to Dad to burst the Christmas bubble of cheer. Fuck. I completely forgot about spring break.
Lyla
Merry Christmas. I’ll let Tonya know.
Good ol’ Tonya. I had no idea how that woman did anything for my dad. I imagined him as a no-nonsense boss who didn’t allow time off or paid maternity leave.
Deacon’s breath was hot on my neck. “Everything okay?”
“Spring break plans. I completely forgot about spring break.”
“Busy thinking about other things?” His raspy voice reignited the fire I was desperately trying to put out.
I drained the rest of my coffee. “Did you want more coffee?”
He smirked at the change in subject. “I’m good. ”
I took our empty mugs to the kitchen and stopped when I saw Georgia leaning over the sink. She held a stocking to her chest and stared out the window. Her eyes were glossy, and like Deacon’s did so often, they focused on the cloudy sky.
I placed the mugs on the counter to announce my presence. Georgia looked over her shoulder and swiped at her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“It’s okay!” She assured me, glancing down at the memory she was holding. “It happens sometimes, and I just need a moment.”
She squeezed my shoulder as she passed, and I held it together until she rounded the corner. I didn’t have to guess the name on the stocking she was holding, and I didn’t know how to stop the tears from gathering in the corners of my eyes. I imagined Georgia pulling out the stockings, only for her to remember that there was one she wouldn’t be filling.
As cheerful as the holidays were, they didn’t pause for grief. They served as a yearly reminder that a loved one should be here and that the world didn’t care what kind of person you were. Life took what it wanted, and we were left to figure out the aftermath.
Howard and Georgia Scott would do anything to get one more day, fuck, one more hour with Dominic.
Meanwhile, I had a dad who didn’t care what I was doing as long as I wasn’t disrupting his image. The only reason I played into his toxic ways was because I needed something from him. The money he set aside for me would provide a life for me and my mom; the default parent who wasted away her twenties because she got stuck with me. I was a lot, and I kept adding layers to the life my mom didn’t ask for. If I couldn’t give her the chance to chase her dreams, then she had no reason to stick around. I’d have two parents who saw me as a burden. I’d never be enough on my own.
I borrowed Georgia’s spot by the window and looked up. I understood why Deacon felt angry because it didn’t make any sense. I gave myself two minutes to feel, then returned to the living room.
Drew and Deacon’s parents were nowhere to be found, and the afterglow of gift giving had faded. Deacon sat on the couch with a pained expression. Tears were in his eyes, and he didn’t have to say anything. I knew by the scattered present wrappings and the empty room plastered with memories from the past.
The corner of his mouth lifted into a small smile when he saw me, and I climbed onto his lap. All I wanted was to take his pain away—help him carry a handful if the world allowed it. I settled naturally into him and kissed him on his cheek. Before I could pull back, he cupped my chin and brought my mouth to his. The hunger and excitement of last night was no longer there, and the slow and sweet tempo of whatever this was assured me that one thing was clear.
It didn’t matter if it was Cassie, me, or any other woman on this planet. No one deserved a guy as downright delightful as Deacon Scott.