Deacon

I’d called Mom and told her Deacon was back, we’d worked things out, and we were picking up where we left off.

Considering the way I was when they showed in August, this news didn’t bring joy to my mother.

I then shared everything about Deacon.

Well, not the parts about him killing people, but (most of) the rest. About Jeannie. About him going off the grid. About him being called Ghost and why. And about his struggle when I went about doing something I didn’t really know I was doing: reviving him.

Not surprisingly, she caved.

Mom had a good heart.

Dad did not cave.

He had a good heart but a big part of that heart belonged to me.

He’d need some convincing.

Even so, they’d agreed to come. Titus was going to look after the ranch while they were gone.

And since they were going to be there any minute, I was freaking.

“I’m sorry to remind you of this, honey, but I wasn’t really in a good state when they showed after you left me,” I told him.

Deacon sighed, pushed away from the jamb, and came to me.

Even though Bossy tried to get his attention, nosing his thigh and wagging her tail frantically, Deacon only had eyes for me.

He lifted both hands and cupped my jaw, dipping his face to mine.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“Of course,” I answered.

“Does he love you?” he went on.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Then, Cassie, he may not love me. He may not forgive me. He might not find it in his heart to understand. But if you love me, he’ll find a way to put up with me.”

Suddenly, I relaxed.

Because he was wrong.

Not about the part about Dad finding a way to put up with him.

About the part where Dad might not find it in his heart to understand.

He would.

He just needed to see to believe.

I nodded.

Deacon dipped his head further to kiss me.

Bossy raced from us to the door.

They were there.

I started freaking again.

Deacon felt it, lifted his head, looked in my eyes, and ordered, “Jesus. Cool it.”

“Bossy,” I snapped.

He grinned.

And again I quit freaking.

He let me go but grabbed my hand and took me to the door.

He dropped my hand but draped an arm around my shoulders as we waited on the porch at the top of the steps while Mom and Dad made their way to us (“we” meant Deacon and me, Bossy ran out to greet them).

Bossy got love first then they climbed the steps and I got some.

Introductions were awkward. Even though Mom invited Deacon to call her Beth on a warm smile, Dad invited Deacon to call him Obadiah on an assessing look.

We got them in. Mom and I set about filling cups of coffee. Deacon went back out and helped Dad get the bags.

And I got wired again because Dad allowed this but he didn’t hide he was doing it to be polite.

“It’ll be okay, Cassidy,” Mom murmured to me in the kitchen while they (followed by Bossy) took the bags upstairs.

I said nothing.

Mom knew I was wired, reached out, and gave my hand a squeeze before letting it go.

That was reassuring, as Mom could be, but not reassuring enough.

The men came back, we sat around shooting the breeze at the kitchen table, then Deacon sent my freak out into overdrive when he turned to Dad and said, “Obadiah, been cooped up in a car awhile. You wanna take a walk?”

Oh God.

My eyes flew to Mom’s.

She nodded encouragingly.

“It’s cold,” Dad replied and my heart sunk. “But you know, I think I would.”

My gaze went to my father and my heart swelled.

Their chairs scraped as they got up and left the room, Bossy going with them.

I didn’t move a muscle.

Neither did Mom.

I heard the door close.

“You were right, he’s extremely handsome,” she noted.

I looked to Mom and said nothing.

“Rugged.”

She was not wrong.

“Manly,” she went on.

I swallowed.

“Tall,” she kept at me.

I fought wringing my hands.

“Built.”

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled.

“And, Cassie,” she said, her voice going soft. “It is not lost on your father that he’s being respectful to us, this is not easy on him because we know what he put you through, and he looks at you like you’re the only reason on this earth he’s still breathing.”

Tears filled my eyes.

“It’ll all be okay,” she whispered.

I swallowed again and nodded.

“Love you, angelface.”

The tears threatened to spill over so my voice was husky when I replied, “Love you too, Mom.”

“And so happy you found yourself a man who loves you like that.”

I deep breathed.

She calmly took a sip of coffee even though her eyes were bright too.

When she was done, she stated, “I hope you have a big spread planned for tonight. I’m starving.”

“We can start dinner now,” I offered gamely. “We’ll eat it early.”

“Let’s do that,” she agreed.

We did that.

The men came back.

I glanced at my father’s impassive face but my eyes became glued to Deacon as he followed Dad into the kitchen.

He came direct to me, his expression giving away nothing.

But when he made it to me, he curled a hand tight at my hip, bent close, touched his mouth to mine, lifted away, and said quietly, “All good, baby.”

I let out my breath.

“You get back, we’ll stay a few days, you don’t mind,” Dad said to the room and Deacon and I turned to him to see him sitting at the table, one hand back to his coffee cup, the other in Bossy’s ruff, her jaw on his thigh. “Take our Cassie to the slopes. You up for that?” Dad asked Deacon.

“Absolutely,” Deacon replied.

I nearly choked on my giggle at the very thought of badass Deacon on a snowboard.

But mostly it was a giggle of relief.

Deacon moved toward Dad at the table.

I looked to Mom and she got close to me.

“What’d I say?” she asked under her breath.

I looked to what I was doing at the counter.

But I did it muttering, “Whatever.”

She chuckled quietly.

As for me, I smiled at the counter.

Huge.

Somehow Deacon had made it all right.

I shouldn’t have worried.

I should have believed.

I wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not ever.

Because my man could do anything.

* * * * *