“That’s true,” Marcus drawled. “But don’t forget the part about how you were willing to settle for somethingless thanwith me. It’s fine getting out there, but…” He twined his fingers with Britta’s. “I found the person who makes me feel fireworks all the time. Not box-checking. That’s the goal.”
Britta kissed him on the cheek. “You are so getting laid tonight.” She turned to me. “Marcus is right, love. You deserve fireworks.”
“Alright, I get it.” I put the scones on the table. “But how about we eat and talk about something other than me and my love life or how I’m unclenching or whatever? I want to hear more about solar panels…”
We spent the next hour discussing their house woes and Marcus’s refereeing of his interns. Inwardly, I thought about how Britta and Marcus didn’t know I’d already found the person who made me feelfireworks.
They didn’t know about the invigorating whiplash I’d gotten interacting with him these past few weeks. How he’d infuriated me at the hospital. How I’d shuddered touching his chest whenhe rescued me from a broken chair. The way it felt watching him be kind to Reign.
I could easily fall for Deck again. Even when we were off-kilter and tense, he made me feel alive in a way no one else ever had.
But we’d just gotten back in the groove of communicating. Upsetting that balance seemed imprudent. Especially with Johnny in rehab. And even if the timing had been perfect, if by some miracle Deck admitted what had always been between us and wanted to explore it, I didn’t know if I could go down that road.
Losing Deck the first time almost broke me, and I’d never truly had him.
Twenty minutes after Britta and Marcus left, there was a knock on my door. I blew out a distracted breath as I went to open it.
“What happened? Did you leave your phone aga—”
Johnny stood on my porch.
Chapter twenty-one
Deck
Cori’s neighborhood wasn’t too different from mine. The houses looked mostly the same, other than these were closer together and cost half a million dollars more. And I lived in the suburbs, so there were chain restaurants and parking lots and strip malls. The block along the main arterial before I turned onto Cori’s street had an Irish bar and two restaurants, so you could choose between a twenty-dollar burger or a twenty-dollar burrito.
Still, I’d done plenty of jobs in the city and knew Wallingford was a lot less stuffy than some neighborhoods closer to downtown. There were dive bars, a great donut place, and a weird tchotchke shop that sold bacon-flavored bubble gum and rubber chickens.
Cori opened the door dressed in leggings and a beat-up Mariners sweatshirt, an outfit I’d seen her wear many times as a teen. I couldn’t help but notice how perfectly at home she looked standing in the entryway of her cozy row-house, just as she hadin her mom’s trailer. And on my porch. And behind the front counter at the Center. The expensive jeans had fooled me for a minute, but now I saw clearly.
Back in the day, I’d admired Cori’s chameleon-like ability to adapt to whatever circumstances demanded. That talent seemed to have only grown. She’d looked good riding in my beat-up truck and wearing my old hoodie, but I could easily imagine her commanding boardrooms in a power suit.
Then I peeked behind her and saw something—or rather, someone—who did look out of place in this townhouse.
Johnny sat sullenly on Cori’s couch, clutching a pillow to his stomach.
Cori opened the door wider, grim-faced as she invited me in. “Thanks for coming, Deck.”
“Of course.”
Johnny glared at us.
“You texted Deck? Like he’s my fucking keeper? I get that you’remarriedand all, but what the fuck, Cori?”
This was my least favorite version of Johnny. Defensive. Mean. Acting out like a trapped animal. I’d never met this side of him until we were seventeen, and he started using regularly. Usually, the aggression meant he was coming down, getting twitchy with the need for another fix. But his eyes appeared clear and bright.
“Don’t look at me like that!” Johnny shouted, jumping up and tossing the pillow harshly into a chair. “I’m not fucking high, okay?”
I put my hands in front of me, pumping my palms down on the air. “Calm down, J. No one said you were.” I tried to smile. “You are being a bit of an asshole, though.”
Johnny scoffed, marginally calmer as he slumped onto the couch.
“Of course I texted Deck.” Cori sat down next to her brother. “He loves you too. We’re both just trying to figure out what’s going on.”
With the weight of Cori’s words to anchor me, I seated myself on the coffee table in front of Johnny, our knees touching. “You’re only on, like, day fifteen,” I said. “You’re supposed to be in rehab.”
Johnny stared up at the ceiling before covering his eyes with a crooked elbow. “Day seventeen. And I couldn’t do it, Deck. I couldn’t stay in that place anymore. The first few days, after the worst of the withdrawal passed, they started talking about therapy. There were group circles and shit. Fucking meditation. Some people there were nice, but…”
