“Not really,” he said. “But I’m his only friend. I worry about him a lot.”
“Well…he’s very capable of taking care of himself.” I didn’t mean to be defensive at the comment, but Deacon wasn’t some dumbass who didn’t know his face from his ass. He was damn brilliant and could do a lot more than people realized if he was in the right mood.
“Take care of himself?” he asked playfully. “Looks like you’re the one who takes care of him.”
“I deliver his groceries and pick up his dry cleaning…but that’s not much.”
“Give yourself more credit. You do a lot for him. You know what he told me the other day?” He took a bite and finished chewing. “That you were his friend. I know you don’t know him very well, but Deacon doesn’t say that, like, ever.” He was different from Deacon, far more outspoken, far more normal. He spoke his mind and knew how to participate in a conversation. Because of that and his job, it seemed like he hadn’t inherited his brother’s brilliance.
It meant a lot to me that Deacon had said that because that was how I felt. It didn’t feel like I was just his assistant and he was just my boss. There was a connection between us, something deep under the skin. At the dinner last week, he told people I was his friend. Now I knew he meant that literally. “That was nice of him to say.”
“And I didn’t mean Deacon is helpless. I just meant…he’s different.”
“Yes, he is.”
“I’m used to it, but most people aren’t, so I worry that he becomes even more reclusive when he’s not around his family.”
He wasn’t that reclusive…judging by all his sleepovers.
When Tucker finished his sandwich, he sat with his arms on the table, watching me. He was a lot more muscular than his brother, possessing brute strength. Deacon was leaner, like his goal was to be muscular and athletic, whereas his brother just wanted to be big. They were both handsome men, both very easy on the eyes. “How long have you been doing this?”
“About seven years.”
“Wow. You like it?”
As if I could ever complain. “A lot.”
“You seem good at it too. But it must be hard to take care of assholes like my brother all the time.”
“Deacon isn’t an asshole,” I said automatically, coming to his defense when he wasn’t around.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Just making a joke.”
“Oh…of course.” I continued to sit there even though I wanted to leave. It felt rude to take off when he clearly wanted to talk to me. He’d just moved to the city, and he was clearly an extrovert, so he probably felt lonely. “What was he like growing up?”
Tucker shrugged. “He liked to be alone most of the time. He was usually in his room, either reading or building something. By the time he was five, he skipped kindergarten, and kept skipping grades until he graduated high school five years early.”
“Wow…”
“My mom and dad always had a hard time connecting with him, but they were still proud. Now that we’re older, it’s a little easier for me, but sometimes I have to be patient with him, take the time to understand what he’s saying when he doesn’t say anything at all.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
He shrugged. “He’s brilliant and just operates on a different wavelength.”
“He does.”
“But he’s still my brother. We still have fun.”
“I’m sure.” My phone started to vibrate in my pocket. “I should get going. I’ve got a lot of clients to take care of today.”
“Well, thanks for dropping off that stuff.” He rose from the chair and walked with me to the door, his sweatpants low on his hips. “I’ll tell Deacon you were here, checking me out in my sweatpants.” He winked as he held the door open for me, telling me he was kidding.
I chuckled then walked out.
When I heard the door shut behind me, I knew he was gone. I pulled out my phone and checked the text messages from Matt, telling me to head to a different unit because a client needed something.
I got into the elevator and stared at the steel doors, thinking about how different Deacon was from his brother. Tucker was talkative, playful, knew how to take a joke and when to make one. Deacon was rigid like a concrete slab, taking everything everyone said literally, and still being confused by it. It was fascinating to me that one brother had been born gifted while the other was average.
It made me realize how different Deacon would be if he weren’t brilliant. He would be undeniably handsome, but also average. He wouldn’t be special, wouldn’t be deep and complicated, wouldn’t be the extraordinary man he was. He didn’t feel much, didn’t connect to people often, if at all, but when he did feel something, it was more potent than what everyone else felt. When he broke down over Derek, I knew he felt normal emotions a million times harder, felt them in a more intense way, breaking down in tears in front of someone he barely knew.