Page 34 of Hold the Line

After ordering, we grabbed a table and sipped our drinks while she told me everything she knew about Deacon—which wasn’t a lot. At least I wasn’t the only one he was closed off around.

“We sent him care packages when he was on the inside.” She shook her head. “He didn’t want any of us visiting, like it would’ve been an inconvenience or something. It pissed me off, but Jett talked me down. Said we had to help Deke get through how he needed to. Being reminded of life on the outside wasn’t what he wanted, so we sent him books and magazines and stocked up his commissary account for him to buy toiletries and snacks for himself. Showed him we had his back and hadn’t forgotten him the only way he’d accept, you know?”

“Yeah, I do know. Every time I’m nice to him, he’s surprised.”

She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “That’s Deke. I don’t know a lot about how he grew up, but I know there wasn’t a whole lot of love there. Like the song goes, instead of kisses, he got the shit kicked out of him. I’m paraphrasing, of course.”

“That’s probably what Annie really meant,” I said, laughing with the same sadness. “The Slaters have a bad reputation, and they’ve earned it. They live on the outskirts of town in an off-the-grid compound. From what I’ve heard, most of the crime in the area can be traced back to them. I can’t imagine they were a loving family to grow up with.”

“Nope. It’s a wonder Deke turned out the way he did. He was like Jett’s scrappy little brother. It took him a while to get that wild look out of his eyes. Like he was expecting an attack at any second, but once he relaxed, he’d get us laughing with his smart-ass comments. That boy would do a favor for anyone at the drop of a hat. He’s just good down to his bones. It killed me when he went away.”

We finished our drinks and headed back to the shop. Deacon and Jett were finishing up when we arrived. I bit my lip as Jett cleaned and bandaged Deacon’s fresh tattoo. Beside me, Giselle laughed. She probably knew exactly what I was looking at.

After he slipped his shirt on, Deacon faced me, giving me a long once-over. “You all right?”

“I’m great.” I held out the bottle of juice I’d picked up for him. “I checked the label. It’s safe.”

“Appreciate it, Phoebe.” He took it, twisted off the lid, and took a deep pull without double-checking the ingredients. Warmth blanketed my chest at the trust he’d just shown me. There was nothing better.

The four of us headed to the front. Giselle had to take a phone call, and Deke and Jett started in about the care of the wood on the desk, so I ventured back to the flash wall. I still wasn’t convinced I wanted a tattoo, but the idea was creeping in.

The same guy who’d greeted me when we’d arrived sidled back up. His name was Phil, he was a tattoo artist, and he’d been trying to convince me to let him give me my first tattoo.

“Did you make up your mind?” he asked.

“I did not. If I ever get a tattoo, it won’t be on a whim.”

“I’d be honored to draw you something custom.”

I smiled at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He took his phone from his pocket. “I’d love to take you out to dinner and talk about it more. Would you give me your number?”

Of course I’d been aware he was flirting with me, so why was I so thrown off guard? Probably because I was here with Deacon. The audacity it had taken for Phil to ask me for my number when I’d shown up with another guy was pretty astounding.

I was so surprised, I accepted his phone before I could give it a thought. He leaned in, his head almost touching mine, and swiped the screen. When his contacts lit up and my name had already been input, I snapped out of my daze.

Phil was cute, but I wasn’t at all interested. Still, there were people around, and we were at his workplace. Not wanting to embarrass him, I kept my voice quiet.

“Thank you for asking, but I’m not available.” I returned his phone and smiled. “Besides, I think Jett would be offended if I went to someone else for a tattoo.”

He cocked his head. “Ah, no worries. Figured I had to shoot my shot while I had the chance. No harm, no foul.”

Still smiling, I stepped away and turned around, finding Deacon staring blankly in my direction. Concerned, I crossed the waiting room, stopping in front of him. His eyes lowered to mine.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “You probably need to eat after getting tattooed, huh?”

“Right.” He jerked his chin. “I was thinking we’d grab a pizza on the way out of town. Is that all right with you?”

“It’s perfect.” I brushed my fingers along his forearm featherlight, and his muscles rippled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good.” He drew his arm away from me. “Like you said, I probably just need to eat.”

I hoped that was all it was.

Deacon stayed quiet and remote through dinner. After spending the last few hours with the boisterous group at Jett’s shop, the shift was jarring, but I tried not to take it personally, assuming he was all peopled out. From the time we’d spent together, I’d gleaned Deacon was far more introverted than I was.

We listened to my podcast on the way home, and I shifted between staring out my window into the dark and studying Deacon’s rigid profile illuminated by the truck’s panel lighting. I wondered if reuniting with Giselle and Jett after being away for so long had been somewhat heavy for him. Not to mention, he’d worked a full day at a physically demanding job before picking me up, driving an hour, and getting tattooed.

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