“I haven’t had that in a long time. Hell, it’s weird for me to even say that. I don’t usually talk like that, but…just feel a little different, like I’m enjoying things more since we met, and I wanted to tell you.”
Grady’s chest felt suddenly heavy. Not in a bad way, but just full, unfamiliarly so. “Me too. I know my loss is different from yours, but I feel it too—like we get each other.”
Deacon looked up. “I think they’d like it.”
“You believe in that? God and heaven?”
“Not as actively as I should, but I do. You?”
“Don’t think so… I just want to be a good person, to treat others well. For me, that’s what matters.”
Deacon took a bite of his ice cream and nodded. “You can say that again.” And then…then he surprised the shit out of Grady by using his spoon to scoop up more ice cream and flick it at him. It landed on Grady’s cheek. His eyes went wide, Deacon’s expression mirroring it, as though he couldn’t believe he’d done it either.
“You know this means war, right?” Grady filled his spoon and tossed it at Deacon. He missed, but he wasn’t defeated yet. He did it again just as Deacon shoved to his feet to try and run away, and this time Grady hit his mark, ice cream splattering against Deacon’s forehead.
Then they were both standing, trying to grab each other and dodge each other while also attempting to fling food. He couldn’t believe it, that they were making such a mess in the middle of Sundae’s Best, but it was fun, and they were laughing, and Grady felt alive.
How did something so simple make him feel that way?
At one point, Deacon came at him. His foot must have slipped through some of the ice cream they’d dropped, because his leg slid out from under him and he almost went down. Grady reached for him, his arms wrapping around Deacon. He was warm and smelled like sugar and rain, his body hard and comforting against Grady’s. As if it had a mind of his own, one hand slid up, touched his shoulder. Grady brushed his thumb against Deacon’s neck, back and forth, caressing, savoring…
They both stilled, the laughter stopping, but Grady didn’t let go, and Deacon didn’t pull back, and…fuck, the man was beautiful. He’d noticed it the first time he’d seen Deacon, of course, but he was even more so now. Shit. What was he doing? He had no business touching Deacon that way. “I, um…I’m sorry,” he said, hoping he hadn’t made Deacon uncomfortable. He went to let go, but Deacon put his hand on his, holding them together before…splat. A spoonful of bourbon ice cream hit him in the face again. “You cheater!”
And then Grady was laughing, laughing so damn hard, he couldn’t hold it back. Deacon was doing the same, their voices entwining around each other like they were dancing.
He didn’t know how long they stood there like two crazy hyenas, but eventually Deacon said, “I’ll get you something to clean up with,” and pulled away.
Grady missed the connection immediately, and too much. He’d always loved physical contact. He liked to touch, to feel someone against him, to be in someone’s arms and to hold them too. It had always been his weakness.
He loved sex, loved sweat-slick bodies and giving himself to someone, but he loved any kind of intimacy too, just…being close to another person.
Part of him wanted that with Deacon, which was the stupidest damn thing he could crave. It would never happen, and that wasn’t what this was supposed to be about.
Deacon went to the back and returned with two wet rags, one for Grady and one for himself. They wiped themselves down, then worked on cleaning up the mess they’d made with their impromptu food fight. When they were done, Grady grabbed the disposable bowls they’d used and threw them away. “I should, um…probably go.”
Deacon cocked his head as if he hadn’t expected Grady to say that. “Oh, yeah, of course, man. Thanks for helping.”
“Are you kidding? Thanks for letting me help. This was cool. I’ll figure out that name and get it to you soon.”
Deacon nodded and crossed his arms, looking unsure. “It’s my night for dinner, I think. You gonna come over?”
Grady wanted to. Damned if he didn’t fucking want to, but he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. He needed to put some space between them, to sort through whatever it was he’d started feeling. “I can’t tonight. I have some things I need to take care of.” When Deacon frowned, Grady said, “Rain check?”
“Yep. Anytime. I’ll let you out and lock the door behind you.”
“You’re not gonna head out?”
“Nah, I’ll do some stuff around here.”
“Even the ice cream man should take a day off.” Grady winked, but Deacon didn’t laugh or smile. It was probably something he’d heard before—that he worked too much since Patricia passed. His gaze darted away, and Grady found himself saying, “Deke.” Sometimes when Nathan had spoken about him, he’d called him that. Grady hadn’t meant to use the nickname himself, wasn’t sure he had the right, but it had fallen from his lips anyway.