He rolled his eyes. “I had two sips at dinner.”
She squinted toward the kitchen. “Then why’s your glass so empty?”
“You drank it.”
“I did? Huh.”
After helping her into her coat, he handed her a bottle of water. “I’ll drop you home and—”
“I want to come with you,” she said, hugging his arm against her chest and resting her head against his shoulder.
Nicola really needed to keep her judgemental stares to herself.
“We’ll let you know what’s happening in a bit, Nicola,” he said, steering his girlfriend—Wait. Was she his girlfriend? Girlfriend. Yeah. She was. He steered his girlfriend toward the door and cursed his mates for ruining their first date.
Deacon pulled into the driveway of a house at the end of a cul-de-sac minutes later. It was a single-story brick home with blue decorative shutters. A cheerful line of colorful blooms edged the sandstone walkway that curved toward a covered porch. A light next to the front door was on, but the rest of the home looked empty.
“Oh! I see him! He’s on the swing.” Vivienne pointed to the corner of the shadowed porch.
“You don’t need to shout,” Deacon chuckled. “I’m right here.”
“Oops. Sorry.” That wine had been waaay stronger than she’d expected.
“Vivienne? Is that you?” Ethan greeted her with a smile. A nearly-empty six-pack sat next to him; four of the beer bottles were missing, and a fifth was in his hand. “I’m lovin’ the new look.”
She reached up to touch her hair. It was so short. “Thanks.”
“What’re you doin’ out this late on a school night?”
She put her hands on her hips the way her mother used to when she was in trouble. “Comin’ to find you.”
“I’m right here waiting, beautiful.”
Deacon stepped in front of her, and Ethan’s voice lost its jovial tone. “Why’re you here, Dash?”
“Making sure you’re not going to do anything stupid. If you want to go to the bar, I’ll drive you there—and bring you back home.”
“You know I’m not going to the bar. Now move over so I can talk to my hot friend Vivienne.”
Deacon grumbled but stepped aside.
“Take it from me,” Ethan slurred, saluting her with his bottle. “Never ever, ever drink and fly.”
“Don’t plan on it.” She couldn’t imagine flying the way she was feeling right now—and that was after only a couple glasses of wine.
“Nicola came running to you, didn’t she?”
Deacon’s shoulders stiffened. “She came by my house to see if you were there.”
“Yeah, right,” Ethan snorted. “Gotta tell ya, Dash, you have the right idea when it comes to women.” He shoved a potted plant with his feet, setting the swing in motion. “I’m going to start telling them—”
“Now’s not the time to get philosophical.” Deacon’s eyes flashed to Vivienne before returning to Ethan.
“You got that right.” Ethan took another drink, then set the bottle into the dirt with the plant. “It’s meeting night. Gotta get to Lee’s.”
“Is Lee’s a bar?” She’d yet to go out in Worcester.
“Never told her about Lee, huh? Typical,” Ethan snorted, pulling a bottle opener from his shirt pocket and opening the last beer. He offered it to Vivienne, and when she refused, he took a swig.
“Lee Somerfield,” Deacon said, stepping on the bottle cap spinning next to his foot, “is the leader of the resistance against Leadership.”
She looked between the two of them for answers, but Ethan was too busy drinking, and Deacon was too busy glaring at him. “Hello?” She waved her hand in front of Deacon’s face. “Why would he start a resistance?”
“He didn’t,” Ethan said from the swing. “Your dad did.”
“My dad did what?”
Deacon settled his hands on her upper arms. “Your father disagreed with some of Leadership’s decisions and found a group of like-minded PAN who shared his beliefs. When he left Neverland, Lee took over.”
“Lee thinks we should stop pretending we don’t exist,” Ethan said, pushing the swing a fraction higher.
“Sounds a lot easier than trying to stay secret.” And if it was her father’s idea first, it had to be a good one.
Ethan scooted over and patted the space beside him. “Come with me to the meeting?”
“No,” Deacon blurted.
“I was asking her.” Ethan stomped his foot, halting the swing.
“You’re not my boss, Deacon.” The reminder couldn’t hurt. The springs whined a greeting when she sat next to Ethan on the swing.
“So, you’re going with him?” He pointed an accusing finger at Ethan.
“Yup.”
“Fine.” He threw his hands in the air. “I guess that means I’m going too.”
“Great! Dash, you drive.” Ethan left his beer beside the swing and extended his hand to Vivienne.
“You don’t have to babysit me,” she told him on the way to the car.
“I’m not babysitting you,” he grumbled, yanking her door open, then slamming it shut before going to the driver’s side.
Ethan pounded on the car’s roof. “My door’s locked, dude.”
“No, it’s not,” Deacon called back from his seat.
“Yes, it is.”
Deacon shoved out of the car and opened the back door for Ethan. “No,” he growled, “it’s not.”
Ethan slid into the car and swore. “My seatbelt isn’t working.”
Deacon groaned and put his head against the steering wheel, setting off the horn.
There was a click, and Ethan said, “Don’t worry. I got it.”
They drove with nothing more than the hum of radio static to break the silence. When they arrived at an unassuming house with white siding, Deacon parked along the street behind a black mustang and turned off the engine.
“Get out.” Deacon pushed Ethan’s knee. “We’re here.”
When Vivienne poked Ethan’s leg, he slumped against the door and started snoring. “I think he’s asleep.”
“Brilliant.” Deacon turned the engine back on.
“Wait.” She took off her seatbelt and reached for the door. “I still wanna hear this guy talk.”
“I can’t go inside.”
“Then stay in the car and babysit him.” She pointed to the back seat.
“You’re not going on your own.”
Deacon thought he was going to tell her what to do? That wasn’t happening. “I’ll listen for five minutes and come right back.”
“I’d prefer if you—”
“There’s Max!” She had the door open and was out of the seat before he had time to stop her. “Hey, Max! Wait up.” The path wound around the back of the house.
“Hey!” Max stopped next to the basement stairs. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.”
“Is this your first meeting?”