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I snorted softly, smacking his shoulder. Moments later, I had to pivot to place the coffee mugs down and bumped straight into Deacon’s broad chest. He caught me by the hips to steady me, his hands lingering on my waist a second too long. The air between us thickened instantly. But instead of passing a flirt comment like Ethan did, he looked almost pissed. Ethan’s gaze burned into the back of my skull, and I didn’t have to turn around to know that he was watching. I made a mental note to ask Deacon what was wrong later and maneuvered out of his way with a polite “excuse me”.

That was how the next few minutes passed, with stolen touches and tense looks as the kitchen seemed to shrink in size around us. When Ethan made another joke, this time eliciting a genuine laugh from me, Deacon snapped.

He shoved the knife down onto the counter and spun around, moving until he was right in Ethan’s face. He didn’t put his hands on him, but he might as well have done it with the anger showing in his face.

“Back off,” he said, his voice rough with a tone I had never heard him use for the other guys before. “Seriously, man. Keep your hands to yourself, or we’re gonna have a problem.”

Ethan looked utterly confused, but his own slow temper sparked. “What the hell are you talking about, Deacon? Where is this coming from?”

Deacon’s eyes flicked to me for a split second before they settled back on Ethan and hardened. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Ethan looked like he was about to push things over the edge when I stepped between them and planted a firm palm into Deacon’s chest, pushing him back. “Whoa, okay, that’s enough,” I said, projecting my voice to just below a shout. My heart was pounding and a cold sweat had hit the back of my neck.

Deacon and Ethan were still staring daggers at each other when Nate came barging into the kitchen, his face even more confused than Ethan’s had been. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

Deacon didn’t say anything, just turned and stormed out of the kitchen, nearly shoulder-checking Nate on his way out. Nate’s head followed him until he disappeared out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. Then he turned to me and Ethan.

Ethan blew out a slow breath, dumping his barely touched plate into the sink, the tension practically vibrating off his shoulders. He grabbed his tool belt from the floor, his knuckles white against the leather.

Nate’s eyes narrowed, darting between Ethan and me in suspicion. “Is anybody gonna fill me in on what just happened? And where is Deacon going? I thought he was on the drywall tape today.”

“Ask him yourself if you can find him,” Ethan snapped, his voice uncharacteristically tight as he moved toward the back door. “I’m going to the dock. The lake is rising after the squall, and the framing on the slip is going to warp if we don’t finish bolting the support down today. You coming or what, Nate?”

Nate glanced at me one last time, sensing the wreckage of what he didn’t see. Then he just sighed and grabbed his own impact driver. “Yeah. Let’s go. Don’t need the timber floating away.”

As the two of them disappeared to the dock, my heart felt like it was being torn in two. The look on Ethan’s face was more than just anger. It was hurt. Pure, sharp hurt that one of his best friends had flipped out on him like that. Guilt tore away at me. I wanted to make sure that he was okay. But I knew Nate was with him and he was way more likely to lean on him for support, even if he had to hide some details. But Deacon, he was stubborn and proud. He’d rather drown than ask for help.

I stalked out the front of the house, my eyes scanning the property for him until I saw his figure at the absolute furthest corner of the plot—near the old detached garage at the very edge of the lot. I followed. He was, of course, out there all alone under the dim, buzzing fluorescent lights, using a heavy sander to strip the ancient varnish off the cedar beams we’d salvaged. The loud, angry roar of the machinery was probably what he was looking for to drown out his thoughts. Not on my watch.

I tapped his shoulder.

Deacon turned around, not even looking surprised to see me. He turned off the machine and gave me a dead-eyed stare. “Yeah?”

I bristled at his tone, thinking of Ethan and sifting through my thoughts until I could find the words I could string together that wouldn’t make things worse. “What is wrong with you?”

Deacon didn’t flinch.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something right now. Think you could give me a minute?” he said, turning his focus back to the machine and beams.

I pressed my lips together. “I just… Deacon, I have no idea how to process what just happened in there. You freaked out at Ethan for no reason. You probably really hurt his feelings and I know, contrary to popular opinion, you aren’t a psychopath. There’s obviously something that’s bothering you so, just…”

My words trailed off.

I didn’t know where to go from there. I had the nagging suspicion that this was all my fault, and I couldn’t articulate that out loud without defining the undefinable. I’d been with both Deacon and Ethan. I wasn’t dating either of them, sure. But that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t bother them. I should’ve considered that before I did what I did, but I wasn’t thinking.

For the first time in my life, I had my paranoia-addled, overly cautious brain switched off, and I just did what felt good to do, and I enjoyed it. Because beyond the physical, beyond the undeniable fact that Deacon and Ethan were two incredibly attractive men, I liked them as human beings. I enjoyed spending time with them, learning from them, and laughing with them. I’d shared my darkest secret with them both, and they’d kept it, both promising to protect me in their own way.

Did the fact that I was capable of experiencing that with two men at the same time somehow cheapen the significance of it all?

Heat surged down my neck, then instantly chilled.

When it became obvious that Deacon had no plans of answering me, I took a step back. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

I turned around and started walking back to the lake house.

“Wait, Ava.”

I paused mid-step. I turned my head without turning around. He was staring straight ahead, not at me but at the waiting pile of beams. He looked down at his hands. “I’m only gonna ask you this once and I want you to be honest with me. Have you been playing me this whole time?”