Page 93 of Deacon

I remembered the way she used to ground and calm me.

Even after our worst fights, she’d step close, wrap her arms around my waist, and slide her hands up my back.

‘De-stressing you, handsome,’ she’d murmur into my chest.

It worked every time; her touch always evaporated my anger.

Now, with her hand resting over my heart, I relaxed even more, my soul freer than it ever had been in years.

Hell, I was still hopelessly addicted to her.

I lay in the dark with her in my arms, listening to her breathe until the moon was high in the sky.

With a grunt, I lifted her, holding her secure as I carried her down the hall to her ground-floor bedroom.

I laid her on the bed, propped her foot up, and pulled the quilt up to her shoulders.

Moonlight spilled through the terrace doors, illuminating the soft curve of her face.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to climb in beside her, wrap an arm around her waist, and pull her against me where she belonged.

Then my gaze caught on her left hand resting on the pillow.

The sparkling diamond on her finger glinted in the light, a cold flash proving Massimo was still the man she chose after she walked away from me.

She wasn’t mine.

My jaw locked tight as I forced myself to step back into the darkness.

There was no chance for us, not until she was shot of him.

Chapter 18

DEACON

The morning sun teased the horizon as I set out for my run along the beach the following day.

As my feet pounded the damp shoreline, I thought of Ana and our confessions the night before.

I stopped at a dune, bent over, and rested my palms on my knees to catch my breath as the sea washed over the sand.

It’d been agonizing yet cathartic to discuss Estella, and for the first time in ages, my chest didn’t feel constricted by bitter sorrow.

Getting real about our heartache and being honest about our shared loss out in the light broke a huge barrier between us.

We’d probably never get rid of the shadow cast by grief.

Still, the fact that Ana and I got candid with one another, and forgave each other, was precious and hella righteous.

I straightened and resumed my run, picking up my pace, powered by hope as I raced across the sand.

I returned to the villa half an hour later and found Christine up early at the kitchen island.

Her face was solemn, her eyes glued to her iPad screen.

I pushed the door in, and when she glanced up at me, she shook her head in shock.

My heart lurched.