In an attempt to get things back to the way they were, maybe even back to normal, he ordered a healthy pizza and she picked out a movie on pay-per-view. They curled up together on the couch.

He breathed a major sigh of relief that she hadn’t pushed him to talk more. Everything Tag had reamed him about over fucking voice mail the morning after the dinner was true—Deacon was emotionally stunted and he lacked the skills to move forward. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t learn those skills when so much was at stake. The change wouldn’t happen overnight. It’d take time for him to figure out how to open up to her. Something she seemed to understand.

When bedtime rolled around, Molly insisted on putting away all her new stuff. The woman had actually teared up while holding a bottle of her shampoo.

Fuck. He’d never understand women.

Finally, after forty-five minutes passed, he’d had enough. Just as he was about to drag her ass into his bed, she wandered into the bedroom, rubbing lotion on her hands.

“About damn time,” he groused.

“After all the crying I’ve done this week, especially tonight, I had to put cold packs on my eyes or they’d be so puffy tomorrow I wouldn’t be able to see.”

“Strip and get in here next to me.”

“Deacon—”

“I’m not gonna jump you. But sleeping naked together is our thing.”

She smirked. “It is?”

“Yeah, it is.” That wasn’t as hard to admit as he’d imagined.

She clicked off the bedside lamp.

He could barely see her getting undressed. “Babe. It’s a little late to be shy with me.”

“Not after I consoled myself with ice cream this week. And then I didn’t go to class to work it off, so I’m feeling poochy.” Molly lifted the covers and dove in.

Deacon immediately hauled her against him. “Tell me where you’re feeling poochy so I can feel you up and give you a second opinion.”

“Omigod, no, I am not telling you that.” She tried to push him away. “Geez, Deacon, it’s embarrassing enough that I even told you I wallowed in sugar.”

He rolled on top of her. “Don’t slam yourself. I hate that shit. You’re a fucking goddess.”

“Get off me.”

“She says as she clamps her hands on my ass, holding me in place,” he said with a grin.

“I love your body.” Her hands glided up his back.

Just the body? What about the man inside it?

Deacon kissed her, trying to focus on what he could control. “You really want me to move off you?” he murmured against her lips. “Or do you want me to start moving on you and in you? Fast and hard. Or maybe slow and sweet.”

“I’m holding out for the wake-up call you promised me.”

He pressed an openmouthed kiss to his favorite spot on her neck. “Remind me again what that was?”

“Your tongue on my pussy, making me come twice before you fuck me.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.” He nibbled on her earlobe. “Say something else.”

“We’re supposed to be going to sleep, not making each other horny.”

“I only have to look at you and I’m horny.”

She slapped his ass. Hard. “Off.”

Deacon rolled to his back but tucked her body against his. He’d missed this. The warm, soft comfort of her next to him.

After a while, when he sensed her restlessness, he said, “What?”

“You told me the bad stuff. Tell me something good. About your brother.”

His usual why would you care response didn’t come. He had to accept that now that Molly knew about Dante, she’d want to know more about him.

“Dante and I had exact opposite tempers. I’d get enraged and come out swinging. His anger was a slow burn. The longer it simmered, the hotter he got. So when he finally hit the boiling point, he blew like a volcano.”

“Did you two ever get into knock-down, drag-out fights?”

“As kids? Nah. We had our moments, but they were rare. When we got older, we had different interests but we had the same opinion on most things.” He paused, and the memory came rushing back. “Except this one time, when we were thirteen . . .”

When he finished the story about Dante, the armadillo trap, and the gross of bottle rockets, he had Molly laughing.

It’d been a long time since he’d thought of that. Of the good times and not just the loss of them.

•   •   •

DEACON shouldn’t have been surprised by the nightmare.

One of the main reasons he didn’t talk about the accident was his subconscious came back to bite him in the ass and made him relive it in his sleep too.