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“Hey.” Bryan interrupted the thought. “What’s with the dopey look?”
I’d linger on love later. “I’m just lucky—I have a naturally dopey face. Aren’t you moving end tables?”
“Pft. I’m going. Slave driver.” Bryan’s tone was light as he walked away.
“You’re the one who wanted a job,” Deacon called after him.
Deacon had a handful offull roomsetups around the shop, similar to what one would find in a furniture store. He set up the displays to keep sets together or to show how mismatched sets could work together, and he tended to rotate them out every so often.
The exception to the rule was the set Bryan had stopped next to. “This has been here for a while, hasn’t it? We could swap it out.”
This was one of the matching sets, from the pair of antique cribs to the matching dressers and wooden rocker. The set never moved. Deacon had refused every offer on it, regardless of price or whether the person wanted one piece or the whole set.
“No.” Deacon’s bark came out of nowhere.
I knew why, but that didn’t mean the response was warranted, and Bryan’s surprised expression said he agreed. “Okay. We won’t move it,” Bryan said.
“Sorry,” Deacon muttered. “The set stays. We’ll move other things.”
It had been so many years, and that wound was still fresh for Deacon. I got it, though. There were days when memories of my dad still hit me like he’s just been here yesterday.
The silence that settled in was stifling.
“Was it ours?” Bryan asked out of nowhere.
Deacon stared at him. “What?”
“You’re in love with my mom, right? Widow moves to town with two kids, she needs a place to hawk some of their old stuff—”
“It’s not yours.” Deacon’s tone had gone from over the top angry to almost mechanical. “And I didn’t own the shop when Brooke moved here.”
There was no denial ofI’m not in love with her. Not that I could blame him—some lies were hard to keep up. I was willing to admit I loved Brook as much as I did Deacon, and with any luck, he’d figure it out soon too.
“Your family did.” Either Bryan couldn’t read a room, or he was enjoying pushing Deacon’s buttons.
Deacon shrugged. “Not sure what your point is.”
My phone chirped with a text message from my brother. It read,I’m here.
“Brandon’s out back to pick up the lights,” I said. “Saved by the bell,” I muttered quietly enough only Deacon should hear me.
Deacon rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
Whatever indeed. I wouldn’t push the issue, especially in front of other people, but I would like it if he opened up to me at some point.
As we loaded the borrowed lights into Brandon’s SUV, Deacon had gone quiet, most likely lost in the past, with the memories that belonged to that furniture set.
There were so many times when Deacon had pulled me out of a funk over the course of our friendship—after fights with Brandon, after my ex left, when my business partner torched my plans and my home, on the anniversary of my dad’s death…
Deacon was always there for me, and as soon as everyone left today, I was going to make sure he had whatever he needed, whether that was talking, silence, or sex. Was the last one an unhealthy outlet for grief? Probably. But I’d do a lot for him.
“Hey, you ever see that really old movie, Aliens?” Bryan asked, as we finished loading the last of the gear into Brandon’s SUV, and closed the doors.
Brandon’s snort was one I’d heard too many times in my life. It wasyou can’t be serious right now.
I had a similar response, but with a very different emotion behind it. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”
“So, yes?” Bryan said.
