Show Me How

by Molly McAdams

  And that thought confused and terrified me.

  Keith’s head snapped up, and he squirmed in Charlie’s arms until he got away from her.

  As soon as he took off toward me, I forced myself to walk again, and met him a little over halfway down the hall.

  I dropped to a crouch, and stared into those eyes that looked so much like his mom’s. “Hey, kid. I think there’s something that we need to talk about. Can we have a grown-­up talk?”

  He puffed out his chest and nodded quickly.

  “You know the grassy place?”

  Keith’s chest immediately deflated. “My Ben is there,” he said softly.

  “Yeah, he is.” I didn’t have to think long about my next words, I’d been trying to figure out a way to have this conversation with him for nearly a week. “I know you think that if your mom kisses me, then I’ll go to the grassy place.”

  He nodded slowly, his eyes darted around like he was worried about what I might say next. But when I was about to continue, he leaned forward to whisper, “Don’t go. Supapowers can’t bring you back from the grassy place, Deaton. Please.”

  Fuck. My throat and my chest felt tight, and it took me a few tries to be able to talk again. “No, they can’t.” I swallowed past the tightness in my throat, and hoped like hell he wouldn’t misunderstand me. “Keith, I need you to understand something. When I go to the grassy place, it will be because I’m really, really old, or because of something that is out of my control. But I swear to you, it won’t be because I kissed your mom.”

  His wide eyes searched mine for a few seconds. “But what ’bout my Ben? He’s in the grassy place ’cause he kissed my mommy.”

  “No, that was out of his control. It had nothing to do with your mom. Sometimes dads just have to go to the grassy place before they grow old, like Ben did.” I waited a few seconds before saying, “I need to make sure you really understand.”

  After a short pause, Keith nodded. “You won’t leave me for the grassy place.”

  This kid. This goddamn kid. How could he break my heart and make me want to scoop him up while talking about grass?

  “Hopefully not for a long, long time, kid. But do you understand what I said about your mom?”

  Keith’s next pause was longer, and his face pinched like he was trying to figure out a difficult problem. Finally, he hesitantly said, “Mommy didn’t send my Ben to the grassy place.”

  “Right,” I said, relief coating the word. “And just because your Ben is in the grassy place, doesn’t mean you can’t have another dad someday, okay?” I waited until he nodded, then jerked my head toward Charlie, and said, “Now I need to go kiss your mom, if that’s okay?”

  He sighed heavily and shrugged. “I guess so.”

  I messed with his hair when I stood, and walked the rest of the way toward Charlie.

  She had a hand pressed firmly to her mouth, with tears streaming down her face and over her hand.

  I dropped to my knees in front of her, and gently pulled her hand down and brushed her wild blond hair away from her face. “Charlie Girl . . .”

  “You,” she began, but didn’t continue as her head fell. She tucked her chin to her chest as a soft sob forced from her chest.

  I was ready for it, for whatever she would say. I didn’t know what all they had told her, but I was ready to fight for her, just as I had been for the past three weeks.

  “What are you doing to me?” she choked out when I lifted her face back up so I could wipe her tears away.

  Her makeup was smeared, her cheeks were wet and red, and her bottom lip was swollen from where she’d bit down on it too many times.

  And she looked so fucking gorgeous.

  “I’m wiping your tears away.”

  “No,” she said with a soggy laugh. “What are you doing to my heart?”

  My thumbs paused on her cheeks when her words triggered something inside me, but then her blue eyes slid over to something down the hall, and that trigger disappeared as I followed her line of sight.

  Keith.

  “How much of that did you hear?” I asked softly when I faced her again.

  “All of it.”

  Her hand gripped my shirt and pulled me close, her mouth pressed against mine roughly and greedily for a few seconds before she silently begged me to take control of the kiss. Her grip loosened, and her palm flattened against my shirt until just the tips of her fingers were curled into my chest. She melted against the wall and sighed into our kiss when she opened her mouth to me, then teased me with the smallest taste of her before she put the slightest pressure against my chest.

  “We still have an audience,” she whispered against my mouth, then pushed harder.

  I glanced to the side to see Keith standing there, waiting patiently. “Right. Time to put distance between us then.” I cleared my throat, then glanced back at Charlie. “Uh, well this whole thing was supposed to be for you today. But I walked in just in time to see you hit your brother. So tell me what you want to do.”

  Her face pinched in pain and her eyes fell to her lap. “I want to go home.”

  “You want to walk instead of talk it out with him?”

  “He said that if the judge would have known about you, he might not have given me custody. He said I was making our mom’s mistakes.”

  Her biggest fucking fear, and he threw it in her face on a day that was supposed to be one of the happiest for her.

  “I’m one of those mistakes,” I assumed.

  Those blue eyes flickered up to me before falling away again.

  I nodded once and gritted my teeth. “Considering I told him I wouldn’t hit him, I’m ready to leave whenever you are.”

  “Now.”

  I stood and pulled her up with me, and pressed my mouth firmly to hers. “Congratulations, Charlie Girl.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Charlie

  June 26, 2016

  MY EYES SLOWLY blinked open, and for a moment I stilled as I tried to remember where I was before I relaxed deeper against the body holding mine. Deacon’s deep, rhythmic breathing made my eyelids feel heavy, and I wanted nothing more than to close them again. But I also didn’t want to miss this.

  Because this? There were no words for it.

  Deacon had come over after he’d finished working out, and we’d curled up on my couch. As the night had gotten later and later, he’d stretched out his large frame across the entire thing, and repositioned me so I was lying on top of him as if I weighed nothing.

  After fighting the blush that had filled my cheeks, I’d grabbed my book off the table and tucked my head under his chin when he curled his large arms around me.

  Just as I had then, I felt protected and cherished and like nothing could touch me. Like nothing could find me under the barrier of his arms. I wanted to hide in the safety of his arms forever.

  My eyes zeroed in on the book still in my hand, facedown on Deacon’s chest, but I didn’t make an attempt to move it again.

  This was more perfect than any love story I could read.

  This meant more than any song I could write.

  Deacon’s fingers twitched against the small of my back, then made slow, lazy circles against the little piece of skin showing there, from where my shirt had ridden up.

  A shuddering breath slipped past my lips as they eased into a smile.

  His chest rumbled beneath my ear when he murmured in a low tone, “Charlie Girl.”

  I twisted my neck to look up at him, and planted my chin on his chest.

  Those brown eyes were light and full of warmth, and looking at me as though he was trying to commit this moment to memory. I understood that look far too well.

  The tips of his fingers moved up slightly higher and higher with each set of lazy circles, dragging my shirt with them, and I shivered against the onsla
ught of chills that raced across my body at the feel.

  His hands paused, and those eyes darkened. “You’re gonna have to stop doing that when you’re lying on me.”

  Heat filled my face, and I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth. Deacon’s fingers curled into my back possessively for the shortest second.

  “Christ, Charlie. You’re gonna have to stop doing that, too.”

  Except I couldn’t.

  Not when he was still holding me like he didn’t want to let me go. Not when my mouth was just inches from his. Not when our bodies were flush and I could feel what this was doing to him.

  Warmth swam low in my stomach as I fought with promises I’d made myself, and a need Deacon created inside me.

  A need for him, a need to be touched. A greater need to be wanted and loved, completely and without reservations.

  The feather-­light touches resumed, instantly my skin was covered with goose bumps, and a shiver crawled down my spine, slow and warm.

  The deep rumbling in Deacon’s chest and possessive curling of his fingers against my skin were the only warning I had before his hands were suddenly under my arms, hauling me up.

  My book slid from my grip an instant before Deacon set me back down so I was sitting on his stomach. And then his hands were on my back, pressing and pleading as he bent me down.

  Deacon’s mouth met mine with a force that both shocked me and fascinated me. Just as quickly there was the slightest bit of hesitation as he sought entrance along the seam of my lips, and I knew then that Deacon would always hesitate with me. Would always wait for me to give. Because as soon as I opened to him, he took and took, and, God, it made my head spin in the most exhilarating way.

  My fingers traced the curve of his jaw, then wove into his thick hair, looking for something, anything, to hold on to as he sat up.

  His hands moved from my back to my waist as I slid to his lap, and tightened when I moved against him. “Charlie,” his deep voice rumbled in warning, and he took my bottom lip between his teeth before devouring my mouth again.

  But that fight within me was raging, stronger than ever. His thumbs were brushing the undersides of my breasts, and I wanted them to move higher. I wanted that shock of pleasure when I rocked against him again. I wanted everything, but I wanted more than I knew he could give me then.

  Unable to stop myself, I moved my hips against his, and whimpered into his mouth at the feel of him beneath his mesh workout shorts.

  “Fuck, Charlie,” he growled, and forced me back.

  One second I was on his lap, the next my back was pressed to the couch and Deacon was lowering himself onto me.

  He pressed a searing kiss to my mouth before he was moving, leaving a trail of hot kisses down my neck and chest as he slowly lifted my shirt.

  My grip in his hair tightened as that fight raged and raged and raged.

  “Deacon,” I breathed as his mouth touched the bare skin on my stomach, then moved down another inch.

  I trembled beneath his touch and his lips as he moved lower still, and placed an open-­mouthed kiss just above my shorts. “Oh, God. Deacon. Deacon, wait,” I said quickly when he gripped the top of my shorts in his hand.

  Immediately he released the fabric and his body stilled.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated over and over. Embarrassment coursed through me, and I hurried to cover my face with one of my hands.

  I was afraid to know what his expression would say when he looked up at me, I was afraid to know what he would think.

  My shirt was moved back into place, and a soft kiss was placed high up on my stomach before my hand was pried from my face.

  Deacon’s eyes were still dark with lust and need despite the questions that hid there, but his face was full of patience. “Don’t apologize. You can say ‘wait’ at the last second, and I’ll fucking wait. You understand?”

  I nodded quickly as I tried to figure out what to say to him—­how to explain.

  I could only imagine from his unspoken questions that he was wondering why I had stopped us since there was a three and a half year old asleep in his room that proved I wasn’t a virgin.

  “I just, I’m sorry, but I—­”

  “Stop,” he begged, cutting me off. “Stop apologizing. You don’t have to, and you don’t have to explain yourself.” His eyes searched my face, still full of so many questions, making it hard to believe that he didn’t want to know why. His voice dropped, and his tone turned cautious. “Charlie, who was the last guy to touch you?”

  My heart stuttered and skipped a beat before settling into a too-­fast rhythm. A lifelong heartache echoed in my chest no matter how I tried to push it away. I opened my mouth to respond, but the name got caught in my throat.

  Saying his name was one thing, though it always hurt. Saying his name like this? My body rebelled against the action.

  Deacon’s head dipped in acknowledgment, the faintest look of surprise on his handsome face as he let my silence answer. “Who was the last guy you kissed?”

  I looked at him hopelessly because I couldn’t answer, and prayed he would understand exactly what Ben had meant to me, and how completely he’d shattered me. What allowing Deacon into my life and my heart meant now.

  He buried his face into my stomach and mumbled a curse. His arms slid beneath me until he was hugging me like he wouldn’t ever let go of me. Another curse vibrated against my stomach before he lifted his head, but he wouldn’t look at me. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I’m sorry.”

  A startled laugh bubbled up my throat, and I let my hands move from his hair to his face so I could force him to look at me. “Push me?”

  Didn’t he realize that Ben hadn’t even waited ten minutes after telling me he wanted me before he’d taken me to my bed and taken my virginity?

  Not that I’d asked him to stop. I’d thought my lifelong dreams were coming true. But for a shy eighteen-­year-­old who had never been kissed, it had been too much too fast. Unfortunately, I hadn’t realized that I’d needed slow until it was far too late.

  “You didn’t push me, and you wouldn’t have been if you continued. I just . . . I promised myself something, and I want to keep it.”

  Deacon glanced at my warming cheeks, then back to my eyes. “I said you didn’t need to explain, but if there’s a promise you’re trying to keep, then you’re gonna have to.”

  Now it was my turn to look away. “The next time I’m with someone, I don’t want to be second to another girl, or just an option,” I admitted quietly. “I want to be the only option. I want to know that whoever I’m with loves me, and only me.”

  His chest heaved against my legs. “That word.”

  I risked a glance at him, and saw him staring vacantly at my stomach. “What word?”

  “Love,” he said after a few seconds, then shook his head. “Charlie, I don’t . . . I don’t even know what that is. I don’t know how to love someone; I’m not even sure if I believe in it.”

  I felt my brow draw together as I listened to him. His words so familiar that it made my heart race as confusion filled me.

  If I didn’t already have proof on my phone that Stranger and Deacon had different numbers, I would have grabbed my phone and texted Stranger right then and waited to see if Deacon’s phone went off.

  Deacon’s expression fell as he misinterpreted mine, and he hurried to say, “You have to understand, Charlie. My mom left my dad for my uncle when I was young—­not that he didn’t deserve it—­and you know he’s still single. My grandpa was such a dick that my grandma left him and started over here in Thatch and never remarried. No one in my family believes in love.” He shrugged. “It’s just not something I know, it’s not something I’d ever be able to give you.”

  I pushed away thoughts of Stranger, and forced myself to ask something I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. �
��Why are you here, Deacon?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his tone low and cautious.

  “I mean, what did you expect to come of this? What was your plan if it wasn’t to make me want something more with you?”

  He looked lost. He blew out a slow breath and shook his head once. “There was no plan, I just knew that I needed you.”

  “And what happens when my son falls in love with you?” My eyes searched his, my voice dropped to a whisper. “What happens when I fall in love with you?” Because both are dangerously close to becoming realities, I thought.

  Keith already loved Deacon; there was no question about that. And me? I loved the way he made me feel and the way he treated my son. I loved the way he kissed me and held me, and the way he refused to let me hide in front of him.

  Instead of looking terrified at the thought, instead of jumping off the couch and leaving my house, Deacon stared at me, unblinking.

  “Don’t give me your heart, Charlie Girl. I’ll break it without even trying.”

  My eyes fluttered shut, and his mouth fell to my stomach one last time as his hands gripped at my back, silently begging me not to let this end.

  And I loved the way he loved me, even if he didn’t realize it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Deacon

  July 4, 2016

  “YOU KNOW, HONEY, I’ve been thinking about—­”

  “Mom, I don’t want your lists! I don’t care which girls you think I should marry,” Graham groaned, and jumped up from where his mom had sat down between us on the couch, and took off for the kitchen.

  I smirked when she sighed, and nodded in the direction of the kitchen, but didn’t take my eyes off the TV. “The food smells amazing, Mrs. LaRue.”

  “It will be ready soon,” she said in a dejected tone, but out of the corner of my eye I saw her sit up and turn her attention to me. “Deacon, honey.”

  “Mm-­hm?”

  “What about you?”