Show Me How (18 page)

“No.” Her head shook stubbornly. “No, you don't know what you're talking about!” She held the phone up, and asked again, “Whose phone is this, Deacon?”

I pushed away from the bed and ran my hand through my hair as I took a step away from her. A frustrated huff burst from my chest that she was refusing to see what was happening. “Mine!” I snapped when I faced her again. “It's mine, Charlie. I'm Stranger, you're Words. Don't you fucking get it?”

“No, this isn't your phone.
That
isn't—­I have your num—­you don't talk to me the way—­I thought he was—­” She quickly cut off her frantic rambling, and leaned away from me when I bent close to her again.

“Thought he was who?” I demanded. When she only shook her head, I yelled, “Who, Charlie, who the fuck did you think you were falling in love with?”

“You!” she cried, and her blue eyes welled with tears. “I fell in love with
you
, but you can't be him—­”

“You sure about that?”

“—­you can't be Stranger!”

“Then tell me who is!”

“I thought it was Graham!”

I stumbled away from her and the bed as if her words had been a physical blow to my chest.

Her confession mixed with my demand, both lingered in the space between us and louder than I could handle in the silence that now filled her room.

I staggered a step away from her, and then another, before I turned toward the door. Just as fast, I turned back around. “You thought you've been talking to my best friend, and this entire time, all I've been able to see was you?”

“No, that's not it. That's not what I meant. I always pictured you, but it was the things—­”

“Save it, Charlie,” I whispered, my tone bordered on a plea.

“Will you let me talk?”

I lifted my arms to my sides, then let them fall. “Why? So you can drive that knife into my chest a little more?” I laughed softly, but there was no humor behind it. “You know, I couldn't figure out why it was so hard to even consider walking away from Words, but I get it. I fucking get it now because I never would've been able to walk away from you.”
Before . . .
I mentally added.

“You knew . . .” She murmured when I started to back up again, her tone now filled with suspicion. “How long have you known, and how long would you have let it go on if we hadn't had sex tonight?”

“Tonight.” I nodded toward the journal, still in her hands. “I saw it when you went to go check on Keith. Don't try to turn this around to something I did when I've been trying to walk away from Words for nearly a week. I knew when I came after you tonight that walking from her was exactly what I was going to do. And what did
you
do?” My lip curled as I stared her down. “You told who you thought was another guy that you loved him as soon as I left your damn bed.”

“No!” she whispered, horrified. “No, that's not true. That's not who the song was about!”

“Bullshit, Charlie!” I roared. The loud boom of my voice made her jump, and tears fell from her eyes.

“I'm telling you the truth!”

I pointed at the phone, and yelled, “Don't forget, I've been present for every fucking conversation.”

“The chorus was about you, Deacon! I was going to tell him that I was done tonight once I sent him the rest of the song!”

I sneered a laugh. “Oh bullshit. Again, Charlie, save it. I'm done.”

“Is this what you've been waiting for?” She asked to my back, and I heard the bed shift as she got off it and her footsteps as she followed me. “To get me in bed, and then use this as your reason to leave me? Use this as a reason to do what you do best: find someone else to fill your bed?”

I paused, and stared straight ahead as I spoke through gritted teeth. “I've spent the past month and a half doing everything to get you to trust me and see the real me because I wanted you more than I've ever wanted anything, but, yeah, you're right, Charlie. Fucking you then leaving you has been my plan all along.” The mocking in my tone was thick and unmistakable.

“You just wanted me because I didn't willingly throw myself at you.”

“How'd you know?” I pressed as I slowly turned, and grinned lazily to give her what she so clearly needed to see from me. I ignored the hurt and the anger and the betrayal on her face, and stepped close. “Too bad for you I won't stick around. Maybe you can trick another bastard into getting you pregnant before he smartens up and leaves you too.”

I caught her wrist in my hand before her palm could connect with my face, and forced myself to stare into her tear-­filled eyes as her chest hitched with a silent sob.

“You're such an asshole,” she choked out.

I leaned close until my lips were at her ear, and whispered, “And you're the biggest tease of them all, Charlie Girl.”

I released her, and stepped slowly away. My expression remained hard and taunting until I hit the doorway, and then I cracked. I let her see everything I was feeling, everything she'd done to me. Just before I left, I said, “Just in case you're not used to seeing someone else doing it: this is what walking away looks like.”

 

Chapter Nineteen

Charlie

July 22, 2016

I
DIDN
'
T SEE
him.

I didn't hear from him.

No one spoke about him.

He didn't come into Mama's.

He was gone, completely removed from our lives in a way that was impressive considering the size of our town and how often I had seen him before all of this had begun.

In his absence I felt a loss unlike anything I'd thought I would feel again.

Not only had I lost the first man I had fallen in love with since Ben, but I'd also lost the only man I'd ever been able to talk to without judgment or reservation.

It made me want to rip my heart back from Deacon's grip. It made me want to hide it away from every man in the world. It made me want to hate him for what he had done to me, for what he had done to my son.

I'd found Keith sobbing in his room after Deacon stormed out of the house two and a half weeks ago, and he'd been quiet and distant ever since. He didn't want to talk superheroes, he didn't want to talk about ladybugs or Darth Vader, he didn't want to talk about anything, really.

I wanted to hate myself . . .

Because if it weren't for both Deacon
and
me, my son wouldn't still be moping like he'd lost his best friend.

I jerked when I felt someone kiss my cheek, and focused my eyes on Grey pulling at the book in my hands.

They'd come over for breakfast, but had only watched me while we ate, waiting for me to tell them something I wouldn't. So I'd cuddled up with Keith on the couch after, and grabbed my book that sat on the coffee table in an attempt to do something other than sit in the uncomfortable silence, but I didn't know how long ago that was.

I'd forgotten they were there.

“You haven't turned the page the entire time you've been sitting here, Charlie. Are you ready to talk yet?”

I released my grip on the book and sighed. “No.”

All Jagger or Grey knew was that I'd yelled at Deacon at the LaRues' Fourth of July party, and that he'd left not long after I had.

They didn't know how he'd come over to take care of Keith. They didn't know the beautiful way we'd come together that night, or how we'd fallen apart not long after. I didn't know how to tell them. I didn't know how to tell anyone when I couldn't even figure out how it had all crumbled beneath my feet.

I had envisioned Stranger as Deacon, but had been positive that they were two separate ­people. So much so, that it was still so difficult to let myself believe that they were one and the same, even though all the evidence had been thrown in my face that night.

Grey gripped my hand in hers; her eyes darted up behind me to where I could feel Jagger's presence. “We're going to take Keith home with us so you can have today to yourself to do whatever you need to. Sleep, run errands . . .” She drifted off, then hesitantly said, “Go see Dea—­”

“Don't,” I pled. “Please don't.”

Irrational, betraying heart.

She paused for a second, then dipped her head in a nod. “Okay. Call us when you're ready for Keith to come back, or just come pick him up.”

I stood with her, and wrapped Keith up in my arms as we all walked toward my front door. I whispered my love for him, then let him follow Grey and Aly out the door, purposefully avoiding Jagger's eyes.

“Why won't you tell us what happened?” he finally asked when he realized I wasn't going to look at him.

“Because there's nothing to tell.”

“Charlie . . .” He sighed. “Charlie, we're worried about you. I'm worried about you.”

“Why?” My eyes flashed to his. “You got what you wanted.”

I turned and walked toward my room without giving Jagger a chance to respond, leaving him standing at my door, knowing he would eventually leave.

I
HATE THIS
place
, I thought to myself two hours later.

I would never understand why Grey and Jagger loved going there. Keith, I knew, was too young to fully understand what that place meant, and I wondered if he would still love going there as the years went on.

But even though Keith wasn't with me, and despite the way seeing them made me feel, I'd brought fresh flowers for Ben because I knew my son would have demanded them.

After I replaced the flowers that Keith and I had brought during our last trip to the cemetery, I sat down in front of Ben's headstone, and just stared at it as if I were staring Ben down himself.

Minutes came and went before I broke the silence in the one-­sided stare-­down.

“I never figured out why Grey always told me to come talk to you. She thought it would help, I thought it sounded like reopening old wounds. Wounds I didn't want to feel or see or face. But I think I might understand now. Maybe, I don't know . . .” I trailed off, and let my eyes wander around the other graves.

“Or maybe I just know now why it sounded like absolute torture to try before. Because before, I was still waiting for you to come back and love me when you never would. Before, I was upset with you and mad at you, but still hopelessly in love with you. Before . . . before, I was too blind to see that you never deserved me or the way I loved you.

“I messed up, Ben. Dea—­he and I were probably doomed from the start. We don't . . . we don't fit, his life and mine.” My voice wavered for the first time, and I tried to swallow back the emotions that threatened to come pouring out. “But even if we could have worked, I wouldn't let us. I kept waiting for him to mess up. I kept waiting for him to turn back into the guy I'd grown up with—­because the guy I grew up with? That guy would do exactly what
you
did to me.”

I clenched my teeth against my trembling jaw, and gritted out, “I have let you ruin so many things in my life. I let you ruin my heart, and let you continue to long after you were gone. I let you ruin any possible relationship I could've had, because all I wanted was you. I let you ruin the best thing that has ever happened to me, or our son, because of what you did to me. I've let you ruin me because I loved you, and you never deserved any of it.”

Slowly, I stood from my spot and brushed off my pants as I blinked back tears and cleared my throat. “You're missed. You are
so
missed. Keith looks just like you, and it breaks my heart and fills it all at the same time to look at him and see you. Thank you for him, Ben. A million times, thank you. I will cherish those nights with you for so many reasons, but I hate that I've wasted my life loving someone who never loved me.”

I took a few steps back, then paused. “For so many years I've wondered how you could give me everything, only to rip it away just days later when I was so sure you wanted it too. I'm done wondering now. Wondering ruined the short time I had with
him
. I won't let it ruin anything in my life ever again.”

 

Chapter Twenty

Deacon

July 31, 2016

I
'
D SLEEPWALKED THR
OUGH
the past month.

I couldn't remember when I'd worked or when I'd driven. When I'd actually slept in my bed or eaten, or when I'd lain down exactly where I was at that moment. I couldn't remember anything other than Charlie.

I was constantly consumed with thoughts of her.

I wanted to be consumed by her again.

I wanted to go back and take away every conversation with Words so I could have prevented losing Charlie. But at the same time, I'd gotten to know Charlie, and she'd gotten to know me, better than anyone else ever had because of those conversations, so I knew I would never regret them.

I would just always regret losing her; losing Keith.

I stilled when I felt a small body settle in next to mine, and slowly opened my eyes to stare at the ceiling of the living room before looking over at my side.

A huff left me when I saw long, flaming red hair spilling over my chest and shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

“Graham asked me to come since you didn't show up at Sunday brunch again,” she responded simply, then flopped one of her arms over my chest to try to hug me as tightly as possible.

I squeezed her forearm. “Thanks, Grey.”

“Exactly what you needed?”

“Exactly.”

She rolled onto her back again so she was facing the ceiling as well, and let the silence creep between us for a few moments. “Charlie won't talk to us about what happened.”

The guys and Harlow said her name constantly, trying to get me to tell them what happened, trying to get me to go back to her and fix it . . . but hearing her name always made me feel as though I'd gotten the wind knocked out of me. I rubbed at my chest and grumbled, “I'm not gonna talk to you about it either. Graham shouldn't have called you.”

I'd spent two weeks sleeping above the garage at work before I'd finally came home and had it out with Graham.

He'd been clueless about Stranger and Charlie's thoughts that it might be him. Not that I'd thought he'd ever known—­I'd just been pissed off at the thought of her wanting him. But all of it had been made more apparent when in the middle of our fight, Kate came running out of Graham's room in nothing but his shirt.

Kate, who we'd all gone to school, and grown up, with.

Kate, who none of us had ever touched because she'd wanted nothing to do with guys like us.

Kate, the
mystery girl
Graham had apparently been in love with for years and was now finally dating.

Love . . . that fucking word.

Grey sighed. “Why did I have a feeling you would say something like that? And why are you both being so stubborn? You love each other, go fix—­”

“No,” I said roughly. “No, I don't.”

She twisted so she could look up at me, her face pinched in confusion. “What do you mean you don't? I've seen you with her, Deacon. I've seen the way you talk to her and treat her. I've seen the way you loo—­”

“I don't love her, Grey. Simple as that.”

Disappointment radiated off of her. “Then why do you look just as bad as she does?”

I shrugged. “I don't know, but she knew. She knew I didn't believe in love.”

“And so that's stopping you from being with her? The fact that you think you don't believe in love is what's causing the two of you to look like this for almost a month?”

A sharp, miserable sounding laugh burst from my chest, but I didn't respond.

Grey just nodded, and sat up. “I have something for you.”

My eyes narrowed and darted to her, then over to where she was looking. If it weren't for the baby in Jagger's arms, I would have tensed in preparation for the ass-­kicking I'd been waiting for all month.

But when Jagger passed Aly off to Grey, I did exactly that. I scrambled up and curled my hands into fists.

I knew I'd said some shitty things to his sister, but she'd broken my fucking heart. I wasn't about to let him get in any free hits.

“Here, Deacon.”

I shot a look to Grey, and flinched away from her when I noticed she was holding their baby out to me. “Don't.”

“Here, take her,” she urged, and took another step closer to me.

I stumbled a ­couple steps away from Aly and Grey and Jagger, and shot Grey a dark look. “Dude, keep it away. I've been traumatized enough for a lifetime by one baby, and that was over eight years ago.”

Grey smiled sweetly, deceivingly, and tried to come closer. “She's just a baby, Deacon.”

“Yeah, and it also crawls now. You know what else crawls? Bugs.” I twisted away when they got close, flinched when the baby grabbed for my shirt, and then froze when a small voice rang out in the living room.

“Deaton!”

I turned toward his voice, and something in my chest lurched when I saw his messy black hair—­and blue eyes just like his mom's.

Forgetting all about the baby and Grey, and Jagger's murderous stare, I dropped to my knees as Keith ran toward me from Graham's side, and caught him when he launched himself at me.

“Deaton! Deaton! Where was you, I miss you.”

Fuck
. “I missed you too, kid,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I missed you, too.” I held him away from me so I could look at him, and had to clear my throat before I could ask, “Who are you today?”

Keith's face fell, and his eyes dropped to the floor. “Keith.”

If he hadn't looked so upset over that, I wouldn't have pushed. “Not Captain America? I thought you were gonna knock me over just then.”

He shook his head stubbornly, then looked at me hesitantly. “You and Mommy was mad and talked mad at each other, and then all the ladybugs came and took my supapowers away forever 'cause you left me. I thoughted you went to the grassy place.”

It felt like the ground rocked beneath me. The ache in my chest from missing him grew into something so much more as I tried to put myself in his shoes. I'd spent nearly a month missing them, and he'd spent nearly a month thinking I'd died.

I felt like I'd abandoned him, like I'd failed him.

“Keith, no. I'm here . . .” I trailed off, and my head shook slowly. “I'm here, and they didn't take your superpowers away. You still have them. I didn't leave you.” I pulled him close and gripped him tightly when my eyes began burning. “Swear to God I won't leave you, kid. I love you.”