Page 102 of Deacon

28

Lila

Jackson had kept his word, which was unfortunate for my peace of mind. He came back the next day exactly as promised and kept coming back. I told myself it was good. Jade deserved this, and whatever still existed between Jackson and me belonged somewhere locked away while they figured out how to be father and daughter. That remained true, even if Jackson Hayes had never met a boundary he couldn’t lean on with a grin.

He never came in loud enough to give me something easy to fight. He showed up for Jade, patient with her, then somehow ended up in my kitchen doorway while I made coffee or reaching past me for a glass close enough that his chest brushed my shoulder. He could make Jade roll her eyes, catch me watching, and answer with that maddening smirk. I kept dragging my attention back where it belonged: Jade getting to know the man who should have been there all along. That had to matter more than a kiss against my front door that my body remembered with humiliating clarity.

Naturally, I was cutting fruit and trying not to think about that kiss when someone knocked. I barely had the door open before Evan swept inside, sunglasses in his hair and a bag of bread in one hand like tribute.

“Before you say anything,” he said as he passed me, “I would just like it noted that I showed heroic restraint and did not immediately begin this visit by asking how many times Jackson Hayes has shown up in the last week looking sinful and determined.”

I shut the door harder than necessary. Evan knew me too well to mistake irritation for anything else, but I warned him anyway. “Then keep restraining yourself.”

He gasped, offended on principle. “Lila. Be serious. Jade told me enough to ruin my sleep.”

Of course she had. My daughter and best friend were far too efficient at discussing my life without me. I headed back toward the kitchen. “Jade needs to learn boundaries.”

“No, Jade knows quality when she sees it, and I am an exceptional audience.” Evan followed me in and put the bread on the counter, already far too comfortable with the subject. “The man has been coming over repeatedly. Repeatedly. Quietly inserting himself into your domestic space like some sort of emotionally damaged panther, and you think I’m not supposed to have questions?”

I slid the cutting board toward him in a silent suggestion that he make himself useful. “I think you’re supposed to make sandwiches.”

“I can do both.” He opened cabinets with the familiarity of someone who had belonged in my kitchens for years while I returned to the strawberries. His attention stayed on me long enough to make the knife feel like a useful warning. “That kiss really did a number on you, didn’t it?”

I pointed the knife at him. He raised both hands, delighted rather than threatened. “And there she is.”

“I am not discussing this with you.” I lowered the knife because threatening Evan only encouraged him.

“You are, unfortunately, discussing it with your entire face.” His smile sharpened; he knew how much I hated being readable.

“My face is minding its own business.” Mine might have been. His certainly wasn’t.

“Your face looks like it wants to file a restraining order and climb that man at the same time.”

The accuracy of it hit far too close to home. A choking sound escaped me. “Evan.”

“What?” He reached for the turkey and started assembling sandwich ingredients with infuriating calm. “I’m not judging. I’m fascinated. There’s a difference.”

I went back to cutting fruit because murdering my best friend would complicate lunch. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet I am the one in here helping you make lunch while you aggressively mutilate produce because your baby daddy is hot and persistent.”

I closed my eyes for one second. When I opened them, he was grinning like a menace. “Do you feel better?” I asked.

“Immensely.” His grin widened with the satisfaction of a man whose work here was apparently done.

“I’m glad one of us does.” The joke landed differently that time, enough for Evan to hear what sat underneath it.

He reached for plates instead of another insult and set them on the counter. “Alright. Truce. I’ll behave. Probably.”

I snorted. The promise was worth exactly what both of us knew it was. “You’ve never behaved a day in your life.”

“That is slander, and also true.” He went back to the sandwiches, mercifully letting the subject die.

Another knock interrupted lunch prep, the kitchen already smelling like toasted bread and cut fruit instead of my spiraling thoughts. Blue stood outside with Little Jax in her arms and a diaper bag over one shoulder.

“Hey,” I said, smiling as I opened the door wider.

“Hey.” Blue stepped inside, already shifting Jax toward me because she knew I would reach for him.