“That’s a hard question to answer,” Grady said. “I’ve thought I was, but looking back, I wasn’t. I knew even in the moment that I wasn’t, but maybe…I just wanted to be? Parental issues at their best. Poor little broken boy who just wants to be loved.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t diminish how you feel. I didn’t experience what you did with my family, but I’ve always wanted the same thing. It’s easy to pretend we don’t, but we’re human, and there’s so much wrapped up in that, so much vulnerability and insecurities. I think most of us just want to be loved.” Deacon had been loved—and not just by family and friends; he’d been in love, but he’d lost her, and… Christ, he was so damn tired of feeling like he’d lost his life too.
“I like that—what you said. You’re good with words, Deke.”
“Eh.” He shrugged. “I have my moments.”
“So it was only ever Patricia for you?”
The question stung, the way thinking about her always did, but it was somehow more muted than before. “Yep.” He gave a humorless laugh. “Haven’t even been with anyone else but her.”
“Ever? You haven’t since? Not even just to get off?”
“Nope. Not after losing her. Kissed two girls in high school. I’m crazy experienced,” he joked, this time the laugh slightly real. How that could be, how he didn’t feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out like he usually did, Deacon didn’t know.
“It’s okay to, ya know? That doesn’t mean you loved her any less. It’s okay to want intimacy, to want to be touched and held—and not to be crass, but to fuck.”
“I know. I just…need more behind it. I’m not that guy who can just sleep with anyone. Feels like too much, like I’m giving them a part of me. Gotta know someone to do that. But damn…I miss being held. Probably not what I’m supposed to miss, and I’m not saying I don’t want sex at some point, but that was always one of my favorite parts…holding someone and them doing the same to me.”
The air in the room thickened, the mood taking a sober turn. Deacon finished his whiskey, not even feeling the burn in his throat. He was definitely buzzed.
He sat there for what felt like an eternity, but Grady didn’t respond. Deacon’s breathing picked up, his pulse pounding harder, until he couldn’t stop himself from turning to look at the man sitting beside him.
Grady’s hot stare was on him. His eyes were pretty—the brown and green mix, his thick lashes. It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about Grady or any other man at all before.
“Yeah,” Grady finally responded, his voice deeper than it had been. “I like that too. I’ve always been affectionate. It’s why I got a bit carried away when we were playing around at Sundae’s Best and I brushed my fingers over your neck.”
“Don’t,” Deacon said before he could stop himself, before he could think about what it meant. “Don’t apologize for that. It felt good. Threw me for a loop. Still does, I guess. Not sure what it means. I just…needed it.”
Grady sucked in a breath, his gaze never wavering. “I did too—need it. Want it. Hope that’s not too much to—”
“Shh.” Deacon was shaking as he plucked Grady’s glass from his hand, as he set them both on the table. He didn’t know what he was doing, and he didn’t care either. He just…followed his instinct, his heart, like Granny had said. Like Patricia had said in his dream too. He leaned in closer and said, “Can we?”
“Yeah.” Grady’s voice was raspy. He stretched out his arm, and Deacon leaned into it, into Grady.
Into another man.
Straight guys probably didn’t do this.
He didn’t much care.
He just took it in, that cinnamon and whiskey scent he’d noticed earlier. The warmth of Grady’s embrace. The feel of the tips of his fingers dancing along the tender skin of Deacon’s neck. It felt damn good. “Thank you,” he said softly, then wrapped his arm around Grady’s middle as best as he could, savoring the heat of him. They sat there like that, just holding each other, Grady’s breath against him, until his body went numb from sitting in the same position too long.
As if sensing it, Grady shifted. Deacon pulled back, immediately missing the contact, not ready for it to end. But Grady just stood, held out his hand to Deacon, looked at him in a way that said, It’s okay. I don’t expect anything. I’m safe. We’re friends. Let’s just give each other what we need.
Deacon answered the silent words with a nod. He took Grady’s hand and let the man pull him up. Grady led him toward the hall, turning off the lights as they went.
They didn’t speak, just walked together toward Grady’s bedroom. He knew it wouldn’t be for anything more than holding each other. Was that why it all felt so easy?