“Still in New Orleans, I’d imagine. But he’ll be here soon.” Deacon’s voice is casual. “It won’t be hard for him to figure out where I went.”
I wasn’t sure which one he was. I simply guessed based off the impression I got from the others at the party last night. Deacon seemed like the one they worried about more.
I can almost feel his breath in my ear. “Open the door,” he whispers.
I watch the roof, my heart pounding painfully. “No.”
“He watches you, you know?” Without missing a beat. “All the time.”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
Lucas?
“He might never act on it,” Deacon explains. “He’s very conflicted, that one. He knows what’s going to happen, but he still fights it.”
Oh my God.
He’s watching him too.
“But deep down inside,” he goes on, “he would give you anything you wanted and do anything you asked.”
The hair on my arms rises. I’m scared, but I want to know. “How do you know that?” I murmur.
“When he’s close to you, nothing moves.” Deacon’s voice is breathy, soft. “Just his chest. It means his heart is beating faster, and he’s trying to hide it.”
I close my eyes, sparklers firing everywhere under my skin.
“He’s afraid of a lot,” Deacon adds.
Is he?
How is he noticing this? No one else does. Or they don’t talk to me about it anyway. Not Madoc or Fallon. Not Dylan. No one else seems to notice what I do.
Until now.
I knew Lucas paid me a lot of attention these past few days. He was invasive, protective, almost possessive. Constantly there.
Did he stay because of me?
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I want to watch you.”
Watch me do what?
“Were you following me the other night?” I question instead. “In the green car?”
“The what?”
“The old black Dodge.”
He doesn’t reply for a moment, as if he’s surprised.
“That wasn’t me,” he finally says. “Interesting.”
Why’s it interesting? He didn’t ask what the car did or why I was worried about it. Does that mean he knows it?
