Page 33 of Deacon

A laugh escaped me, tired and startled after the pressure inside Jackson’s room. “Your biker?”

“Yes.” Evan pressed the back of one hand to his forehead and bent into a full-body swoon. “His name is Ink. You heard that, right? Ink.” He lowered his voice into a rough, gravelly imitation that was clearly supposed to be Priest. “He is the one I have the better chance of impregnating than Blue.”

He abandoned the performance and clutched my arm again. “He is my biker romance of a lifetime. I can already see it.”

I slapped him lightly in the chest.

He staggered back, clutching himself as though I had mortally wounded him. “Violence. In a place of healing.”

“You are such a drama queen.”

“And yet, I’m still right.” He recovered instantly. “You love me for it.”

I shook my head and started toward the elevator, knowing he would follow because Evan never allowed a moment to die with dignity when he could decorate it first. He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we walked, its weight familiar and warm.

“I think you should tread lightly,” I told him. “The man is a biker, Evan. Who knows what might happen if you rub him the wrong way?”

His grin turned positively wicked. “I want to rub him, all right.”

I rolled my eyes hard enough to hurt.

He laughed, but some of the playfulness faded when he looked at me again. “Hey.”

I leaned into his side despite myself.

“You’ve been coming up here every night after your shift and sitting beside that hunk for hours,” he said. “You need sleep. Actual sleep. You have dark circles no concealer on earth could cover.”

“That feels rude.”

“It is loving honesty.”

We reached the elevator, and Evan pressed the call button before turning toward me. His expression sharpened. “What have you been telling Jade about where you’ve been every night?”

The question struck harder than I wanted it to.

Guilt must have shown because he read the answer before I spoke. “I’ve been telling her I was with you and Blue, helping Blue through some personal things.”

Evan gasped loudly enough that a nurse looked over from the desk farther down the hall. “Lila.” He pressed a hand to his chest, though less theater lived in the gesture this time. “You lied to your daughter?”

I winced. “Don’t announce it to the hospital.”

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside. Evan selected the ground floor, then turned to face me fully.

“You know you’re going to have to tell her about her father soon, right?” His voice had quieted. “You can’t keep this from her. She deserves to know.”

I rested my head against the wall and closed my eyes. The exhaustion had worked its way into my bones, the kind that made honesty easier because I had no energy left to dress it into something prettier.

“But he left me, Evan.” My voice came softly. “He left without saying goodbye, and because of that, he missed her too.” My throat tightened, but I forced the rest through it. “Part of me feels used. Another part knows that isn’t who Jackson is. I know he wouldn’t have done that to me without a reason, so there has to be an explanation.”

The elevator hummed around us.

“But he had seventeen years to give me one,” I continued. “He could have called or written. He could have found some way to reach me and given me the chance to tell him.” I swallowed against the ache rising in my throat. “He didn’t. So does he really deserve to know now?”

Evan slid his arm around my shoulders again, steady and warm.

When the doors opened, we stepped out together and started through the corridor toward the lobby. “Even if he doesn’t deserve to know,” Evan said, “Jade does.” His voice gentled before I could brace against it. “But I won’t push, babe.”

I looked up at him.