Page 98 of Hold the Line

I crinkled my nose. “There’s no way your house has a better kitchen than mine. That’s a nonstarter. We’ll be at my house.”

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right. Two houses would be pretty damn silly. We’ll have to stick with one.”

We were joking, but I wasn’t, not really. I wanted that future with Deacon. A cute little house with enough bedrooms for us, maybe a kid or two, and of course Hailey, a nice kitchen, and a workshop for Deacon.

“Glad we settled that.” I kissed his chin and settled back on his chest.

He resumed stroking my hair, and little by little, I relaxed, soaking up his attention.

“You mean it, don’t you?” he asked quietly.

He’d lulled me into a half-awake state, so it took a moment to register his question. “Mean what?”

“About the house. You want to find a place of our own.”

“Eventually, yes. I’m happy in this apartment with you, but when it’s time to take the next step, I’d only want to do that with you.”

He stopped stroking my hair, but only to curl his arms around me and hold me tight. “All right. That’s what we’re working toward—saving money and getting sure with one another until we find a place to settle.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I think we have a plan.”

“We’ve got a plan,” he echoed.

The ache was back, but it was because I was so filled with love for this man I was nearly bursting. It probably wasn’t healthy, but I couldn’t imagine loving him less. It would be impossible.

The bed shifted, and suddenly, my back was cold. Deacon and I didn’t always sleep connected, but him not touching me was rare.

It was the absence of his warmth that woke me. My sleep-fogged brain registered his retreating figure as he left the bedroom, heading to what I assumed was the bathroom. I drifted in and out, waiting for him to return.

Except he didn’t.

The soft click of the front door sent a jolt through me.

What?

Was he leaving? Going back to his apartment? Surely, he wouldn’t do that without telling me. He didn’t always have good nights, but he’d never walked out.

Maybe I’d misheard. Maybe that had been the bathroom door.

I grabbed my phone to check the time. A notification from my doorbell camera caught my eye, and my stomach knotted as I tapped it. I expected to see Deacon, and I did—but he wasn’t alone.

Frowning, I scrolled up to the alert from five minutes earlier. A woman stood outside my door, pacing, her phone clutched in her hand.

I switched back to the most recent clip, watching as Deacon stepped outside, grabbed her arm, and led her toward his apartment.

I…what?

Confusion swirled through me, questions stacking too fast to focus on just one.

The longer I lay there, alone, the harder it became to breathe. My lungs felt trapped in a vise, the pressure mounting, pressing in.

What was happening upstairs?

Why wasn’t Deacon here with me?

Time crawled. An eternity passed before I heard my front door open again, though the clock told me it had only been half an hour.

I laid my phone on my nightstand and waited, forcing my breathing to even out. Deacon barely made a sound as he crept through my apartment, trying not to wake me.

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