Playing Fate (Endgame Series Book 1) (7 page)

Her cheeks twitching, her eyes glisten with mischief. I’ve amused her, and I’ll keep making an ass of myself if she’ll smile. I want that gesture to be second nature for her. As quick as the wall came down, it slams back up. She pulls her hand from mine. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt.” Her voice is snippy, and she doesn’t give me a chance to respond as the door is shut in my face. I want to beat it down, demand a reason for her personality shift. Fucking Sybil in the making.

I don’t have the time for this, but this will be remedied. This hot and cold bullshit isn’t happening. One brick removed and ten stacked in reinforcement—I wonder if I’m misreading her, but I don’t think that’s it. I leave, needing to get my shit done so I can get to my parents’ to pick up Julie. Everything is screaming at me to stay and talk to her, but I don’t.

I can’t. I have responsibilities. People who depend on me.

I stare out the window, listening to the music fill the neighborhood. The party continues to grow, and the noise is on the verge of pissing me off. Julie’s asleep, and I’d like to join her. I watch, feeling like a fool, hoping to catch a glimpse of Saylor.

I smile as I see her small frame walking down the sidewalk towards my house. She pauses and takes a few steps back, abruptly turning and retracing her steps closer to me. This continues for a few minutes, and I see her swipe her cheeks like she’s crying. I rush towards the front door and pull it open. Seeing her undoes me. She’s distraught and looking like she’s going to flee any second. Her timid voice scares me as she ekes, “Hey.”

I smile at her. “Going somewhere?” I want her to feel welcome, and in this moment, she seems terrified. My gut clenches, and my hands twitch to reach for her and pull her in my arms, but that’ll scare the shit out of her. I watch with trepidation to see what her move will be.

I should have grabbed a jacket, but I wasn’t thinking of anything except escaping. I am chilly with the crisp breeze blowing through my thin shirt. Shit. I’m in front of Deacon’s house, his words playing in my mind.
If you need to escape the madness, my door is open. It’s just Julie and me tonight.
I don’t want to admit it aloud, but I can be honest with myself . . . a night with Deacon is what I want. Deacon and Julie, though? I’ll pass. I turn to head back to my house as his door opens. His smile welcoming, his smirk taunting, his delicious bare chest begging for my lips. “Hey.” I’m a dork. How the hell am I going to be run a successful marketing business if I can’t speak to a man?

“Going somewhere?” His eyes twinkle in the light from his porch.

“Uh, home.”

“You want to come in?” Yes. Yes. Yes, I do.

“Nah, I’m good. Was escaping the madness.” I fake laugh, the thought of going back to my house scares the hell out of me. Alec wasn’t taking a hint, and he was like a fucking octopus. I’d get one of his tentacles off my ass, and there were seven more groping everywhere on my body. I shiver in disgust remembering his hands on me.

He studies me, seeming to see through my tough girl façade. “Come in for a few minutes. The party seems like it’s in full swing, and you were absconding for a reason. You haven’t met Julie yet.” Ah, the infamous Julie. I could go the rest of my life without meeting her. Seeing the girl his eyes light up for, the girl who brings out his smile with dimples—the one who softens all his features. The love emits from him just mentioning her. Faster than a knife fight in a phone booth, I’m agreeing to meet the girl who turns me into a jealous beast.

“Okay.” I’m an idiot. I’ve been told numerous times falling for the Deacon charm would be my downfall. Don’t think about taking a ride on the Deacon train. It was a one stop trip . . . heartbreak. Stupidly, I follow him in his house like the innocent fly sucked into the spider’s web. I draw in a deep breath, wishing I could erase the entire night from my memory.

He turns quickly, and I flatten myself against the wall closest to me. Dumb move, Saylor. I have no escape. My eyes dart left to right, my breath is coming in quick pants, and fight or flight is kicking in. He’s too close; his voice is soothing and frightening at the same time. His hand lifts my arm, making me flinch in pain. “What the hell happened?” His fingers gently rub the bruise forming from Alec's fingers; I didn’t notice the skin split, blood speckling my pale skin. “Shit, you’re shaking. What happened, Saylor?”

I shake my head, words stuck in my throat. I remind myself he isn’t a threat. His girlfriend is in this house somewhere, and he isn’t hurting me. He’s helping me. He lets his hand trail down my arm and clasps my hand. My feet follow him; he leads me to his room. “Sit down.” He nods towards the bed, and I stiffen. “I want to clean that for you, and I want you to tell me what the fuck happened.” I can barely make out his eye color. They’re narrowed into slits, his mouth pulled tight. He’s angry . . . at me or for me?

“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” God, I’m so stupid. I’m that college freshman who is going to get murdered because I never learned what stranger danger was. Technically, Deacon isn’t a stranger, but he’s not familiar. Alec . . . I didn’t ask for that, but I didn’t get help. He disappears into the connected bathroom and is back in front of me dabbing peroxide on the open cut. His cool breath follows, easing the sting. The ointment and bandage he places next brings tears to my eyes. Safe. I haven’t felt safe all night.

“Better?” I see the stormy color of his eyes; they’re penetrating me. More blue than grey today, but he still unnerves me.

“Thank you.” I try to step through the doorway, but he blocks me. “I’m gonna head home.”

“Wait a minute. What aren’t you telling me?” I shake my head. I watch the lines crease his forehead as his brows furrow. “Sit here for a second, and I’ll go get Julie.”

What is it with guys tonight and asking me to sit down on a bed; this takes the cake. He wants to bring his girlfriend in for a threesome. I snap. “Fuck you, Deacon. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’ve had enough tonight. First Alec and his hands that wouldn’t let me up and wouldn’t let me go. Now you, luring me into a false sense of security while you wait to pounce. But you want to bring your girlfriend in to what? Participate? Watch? No thank you.”

I’m fuming, and his narrowed eyes and ticking jaw is any indication . . . he’s just as riled up. “What did Alec do to you?” His words come in a rush, low and scary.

“Nothing. I stopped him and ran.”

“I’ll kill him.” He turns to leave.

“Wait.” He looks over his shoulder, and I step back. He’s livid. “Don’t go.”

“Can you listen for Julie?” My anger for him resurfaces with that question.

“You can tell your girlfriend where you’re going. I’m not staying here.”

“Girlfriend?” He is puzzled.

“Yes.” His mouth turns up into a deep smile as it falls open and laughter emits from him. Deep, belly laughs that shake his chest.

“You think Julie is my girlfriend?” His chuckles hinder him from forming a sentence. I nod. “Come with me,” he looks in my eyes, “please?”

He walks from the room, and I follow. He leads me to a door that is pulled shut but isn’t latched. He brings his finger up to cover his lips, mimicking the shhh command. Pushing the door open, it’s dark with a glow from a pink lamp and tiara nightlight. Walking quietly in his footsteps, I am standing in front of a crib, with a sleeping baby nestled under pink blankets, a pacifier laying by her little rosebud mouth. “Saylor, meet Julie. My daughter.”

My head swings to his so fast I think something cracked in my neck. I’m stunned. The look of love, the total adoration radiating from his body at this little girl . . . his daughter. Julie. I’m a fucking idiot. I steal another glance at her, back at him, and I’m fucked.

I’ve drunk the Kool-Aid.

I’m joining the cult.

Moving onto the commune.

I’m Deacon-fied.

My heart slams in my chest, my ovaries shrivel up and explode. Rainbows and unicorns appear, and I’m floating on cloud fucking nine. This beautiful man is a father—a proud one. My thoughts and feelings don’t reconcile. I’m projecting my daddy issues on him, and I’m a goner.

I’m lucky I have the mind to push his bare chest out of his daughter’s room because the plans I have for this man need no witness. My lips graze his nipples. His chest vibrates with his groan. I place my hands on his shoulders, stretching as far as I can go, my tongue darts out to taste his skin, and he crashes into the wall. Pulling with as much force as I dare, I bring his mouth down to mine and cover his lips. He gives no hesitation falling into me, tongues dueling and making friends.

I’m so fucked. I lift one of my legs circling his hips rubbing my core against his hipbone and riding it like I’m in a rodeo. I don’t have a fuck to give what this makes me look like. He’s made me feel. I’m past the point of good decisions and Lord help me . . . this has disaster blaring in neon. I scratch my nails down his chest; his harsh intake of air spurs me to continue.

I may come in this hallway, fully dressed, and I can’t seem to stop myself. Until he pulls back and stares at me. It’s like I hear the screeching of brakes before the collision. Rejection is all I see on the horizon.