Sundae's Best (Briar County 2)

It was hard to know how much to share with Deacon, and what not to. What Nathan had told him was between them, and he didn’t want to betray his friend, his brother’s memory, but he wanted to ease Deacon as well. And he thought, he thought maybe Nathan wouldn’t mind. That he would trust Grady to know what to say and what not to.

“It’s because he knew he was gay, right?” Deacon asked before Grady could say it.

“He thought the army was his only way out of Briar County, even though he’d have to hide there too. He thought it would be easier to eventually sneak around somewhere he didn’t know everyone.”

“Figured,” Deacon replied. “You too?”

“Yep.”

“The world is an ugly place sometimes. So much hate. I think that’s part of why I never wanted to leave. My ancestors fought for the right to have their piece of Briar County, to own their homes and their businesses. Even their damned freedom. The family history I know all comes from here.”

Jesus, something about this man got to him. Grady liked him more than made sense when he considered how long he’d actually known him. Deacon was interesting, and Grady respected him; he had since before they’d met, just from what Nathan used to tell him, but even more now.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.” Deacon unlocked the door.

“You didn’t. Was just thinking about how I like to hear you speak.” As Grady said the words, Deacon took a step toward the door. He’d clearly meant to open it, but it stuck somehow and didn’t move, so his forehead slammed straight into it.

They both paused. Grady held his breath because he realized what he’d said could have sounded like…hell, like more than what he’d meant for it to sound like.

He opened his mouth to explain himself, but then…that wasn’t what came out. It was a laugh. He would have felt guilty if it wasn’t for the fact that Deacon was laughing too—both of them, hard and deep and rumbling, probably too hard for what had happened, but he didn’t care. It felt good, so fucking good, like tension he didn’t know he held was being released with each vibration in his chest and stomach.

When Deacon rubbed the spot he’d hit, it unleashed a second round of laughter, even more potent and vibrant than the first. When was the last time he’d laughed so damn hard?

“Well, that happened,” Deacon said as he actually opened the door this time. He didn’t step inside, though, signaling for Grady to do so first.

“You know I’m never gonna let you live that down, right?”

“I’d be disappointed if you did.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.” Grady enjoyed this, the easy banter between them.

He examined what he could see of the house as he went inside. Hardwood floors, and the decor was very much a farmhouse style with a lot of wood, some painted and some not, but most of it weathered-looking. It was open concept, with the kitchen to the right and a small table with a dark-brown top and white-painted legs between it and the living room. The furniture was all a similar deep, chestnut brown, and there was a fireplace and next to it a television.

Grady walked over to a wall with photos—lots of them—Deacon with people Grady assumed were the man’s family, photos of his wedding day with Patricia, others with him and his wife as well, along with some of Nathan, Eugene and Frances, and one where Nathan was carrying Patricia on his back. They were in a park, both dressed summery and laughing. “Nathan had this hung up too. It was taken during one of his visits home. He told me about it. I think you all got together for a cookout or something. You took the photo, right? And Patricia printed it out and sent it to him.”

“Yeah.” Deacon stepped up and stood beside him. “Yeah, I took it.”

“It was his favorite.”

“Patricia’s too.” Deacon cleared his throat. “You’re, um… Feel free to look around. I’m gonna get dinner started.”

Grady didn’t stay there, though, following Deacon to the kitchen instead. Deacon tugged his hoodie off and hung it on a hook beside a jacket, and Grady took off his thick flannel and put it on the same rack as well. “You gonna let me help? If not, I’d feel too guilty and all, letting you make me dinner after working all day, so unless you want to be responsible for my guilt…”

Deacon laughed the way Grady had hoped he would. He didn’t want the man to feel obligated to make food for him, but he was also just giving him shit.

“Well, I wouldn’t want that weight on my shoulders. I can’t imagine how horrible that would feel. It might keep me up all night crying.”