#Chapter113
And he did. For a whole three fucking seconds before he started up again. Nico, his fiancee, or whatever, didn't even bat an eyelid, so either he was oblivious to the strained tension that threatened to drown us like a bag full of unwanted kittens, or he was used to it.
/"We can go if you want. We don't have to stay,/" Deacon said, leaning into me, curling his arm around my side. He planted a kiss on my forehead. It was enough. It reminded me how to breathe again, and offering him a tight smile, I shook my head. They were his friends. Fuck knows why. But all he'd asked for was one night for me to meet them. After everything he'd done for me, I could do this for him . . . right?
