18. Deacon
Chapter 18
Deacon
LAST SEPTEMBER
I was supposed to have today, and the better part of this week, alone out here at the Wisconsin house.
I’m sober. Because you’re not supposed to make any big decisions under the influence.
A distinctive engine clank comes from outside, and it sounds oddly similar to Henri’s shit-box car. I haven’t been able to work out the cause of that sound in the time I’ve had to investigate it.
I’m hearing things surely.
A minute later, keys rattle in the doorknob. Impractical heels click across the floors, and finally, Henri says the passcode to the alarm aloud as she enters it into the panel.
Her purse finds the countertop with a clunk, and, uncharacteristically, there’s a poof of the sofa as she sits on it. The fabric rustles as it embraces her body before she’s settled.
I’m way too sober to see her. I had to pretend to be normal through weeks of wedding bullshit, and it’s drained every fiber of my being .
And now that I’m sober, the wolf starts. I’m pretty sure she’s our mate. Get her to stop the suppressants.
I’m pretty sure I never asked for your opinion on anything other than getting rid of the fucking ancestors, I clip back.
The last thing we need is for him to be so sure that the blonde wolf is ours.
He rolls his eyes. You’re mad you can’t figure out how to get rid of me and keep your life.
Ignoring him, I stalk around the corner of my bedroom to the living room. Henri’s head is in her hands, and it seems like she could probably use a little bit of time believing she’s alone.
A massive sniffle does me in. I can’t pretend I’m not here if she’s crying.
“Henri?” I call and lean against the wall.
“Fuck. Deacon, I thought you were out. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks, and she draws a deep breath and moves to get off the couch.
I’m too sober to resist her.
The space across the house has never felt shorter. I cross the living room and pull her up off the couch and into a hug.
“Talk to me, Henri. What’s going on?” I squeeze my arms tighter around her.
Henri falls apart, deep heaving sobs quaking her body.
I hold her until the scent of her hair and the feeling of her in my arms becomes entrenched deep in my mind. Swaying back and forth, I try to soothe her.
Finally, the crying stops, and I break our embrace.
She wipes tears from her eyes. “I’ll leave.”
“Don’t go,” I tell her, but my words come out more like begging.
Because if she leaves, I might do it. I don’t believe in signs, but if I did, she’s as good as any .
“No. No.” Henri waves her hand, trying to stop me. “This is... so unprofessional. I can’t.”
“I know you pride yourself on being a professional, but you’re in no shape to drive.” I start with the truth and move right into a lie. “I’m not sober enough to drive you anywhere myself.”
“I’m so sorry. I can sleep in my car. You don’t need me to be here and bug you.” She keeps trying to argue with me.
“Henri, I know Cade and Lena’s rooms would feel weird with their smells, but you’re here enough...” I sigh, scrubbing my hand down my face.
We had the foresight to not build a guest room under the principle that if you don’t have a guest room, you don’t have guests and they don’t feel welcome in your den. I guess the three of us have always been antisocial.
“There’s a perfectly good couch right there.” I indicate to where she was just sitting. Or we can sleep on the same half of my king - size bed.
Offer that! My wolf interjects, wanting to be closer to her.
“No, no. I couldn’t possibly. It was a mistake. I just didn’t know where to go and...” She draws a deep breath.
“He kicked you out?” It doesn’t surprise me, but I let my question hang with as little judgment as I can.
Which, arguably, is still a lot of judgment.
Abusive narcissistic asshole. I’d put money on him calling before noon tomorrow to apologize and gaslight her into coming back.
“He doesn’t mean it. We were both tired.” As expected, she goes on the defense for him. “I have to give him some time to cool off. It’s just a misunderstanding. I didn’t explain the plans for the wedding well enough.”
“A misunderstanding is both of you trying to pick up the same dry cleaning or being at the wrong restaurant for dinner reservations.” I try to be gentle. “You being unable to stay in your home because he’s mad at you is not a misunderstanding.”
“I’m—” She lets out a slow breath but doesn’t finish her sentence.
“It’s fine, Henri,” I assure her, walking toward the kitchen. “Let me make you some snacks, and we can figure out what to do.”
“Oh, no.” She shakes her head, insisting. “You just... Seriously. You don’t have to. I’ll—”
“Henri. You’re not sleeping in your car. You’re not sitting out here on the couch and probably working.” I cut her off as politely as I can.
She interrupts me right back. “I don’t want to ruin your plans. I’ll stay quiet, and you do what you were doing.”
That makes me laugh, and I chew on my bottom lip. Corrupting little Henri could be fun. “Henri, I don’t think you want to sit out here and listen to me masturbate for a few hours before I pass out.”
Immediately, Henri’s eyes widen, and she spins away from me. “Oh. God. Okay. Yeah. I’m going to go.”
“Stay.” I press out the word, pleading with her. “I don’t want you to go. You’re here, and you’re pretty much the only person I don’t mind changing plans for this week.”
Henri turns back to look at me. Her face is red, but she seems to respond to me being soft for her. Why wouldn’t she? Henri’s dying for someone to be good to her. But forcing her to stay, if she doesn’t want to, is just as bad as trapping her like he’s done.
Be the bigger person, Deacon, I remind myself and extend the invitational exit plan for her. “If you really don’t want to stay, let me get you a hotel in town. You deserve to feel safe. ”
“I feel safe here.” Her words come out at a whisper, and she seems surprised by them. “With you.”
Each word is true.
What else can I do but let whatever’s happening right now happen? “It’s settled, then. We stay.”
With the ‘decision’ made, we stand here, staring, within reach of each other.
“You’re not...” She seems to dig through words that are professional enough but not so stuffy that they’re sterile. “Here alone because you’re planning on uhm...?”
I snort and shake my head, immediately dismissing it. “No. No suicide plans tonight, Hen.”
How is it fair, though, to hide this from her? We talked about my plans and how there are dates saved in my phone’s calendar, during a break away from the chaos of Cade’s wedding, in a closet of all places when she needed a break from the world.
I look straight up at the ceiling and then back to her, telling the truth myself this time. “I don’t really believe in signs or a higher power or fate. But your arrival here, today, now.” I stumble over my words. “I can’t exactly go killing myself while you’re here or after you leave. Wouldn’t be fair.”
“Please don’t,” she whispers. “I don’t want you to die.”
“That makes one of us.” I match her volume.
Tears well in her eyes. “I don’t understand how that feels. I’ve never met someone like you, and if I have, they’ve never been this honest. The silent suffering must be horrible. I wish I knew how to help you.”
“I appreciate you, Henri. But today isn’t about me.” I give her a soft smile and change the subject, looking around the house for an idea. “Well, there aren’t a ton of options.”
She shrugs, looking around the house in the same manner I did, but then her voice becomes firmer and more assured. “I was planning on lying on the couch until I fall asleep or maybe getting some work done if I get too anxious.”
At her instructions, I flop down on the couch without another word, then look up at her expectantly. “Oh, is couch lying a solitary activity?”
Henri follows my lead, lying on the other wing of the sectional, our heads in the center together. Staring at the ceiling with someone there next to you, doing it too, feels less lonely. I’d expected to wallow alone, but fuck, Henri makes everything better.
It’s because she could be our mate, my wolf growls.
Rolling my head, I watch as tears well in her eyes. Henri blinks them away, but they run down her cheek toward her ear. In a can’t-even-be-bothered fashion, Henri just lets them go, not wiping them clear.
“Do you want to talk about him, or do you want to be distracted?” I want to fix this, and distracting us both from how I want to fix this is the best thing for us all, for now.
“I know you’re not the biggest Nathan fan,” she groans. “It’s probably best if we don’t talk about him. But what about you? No wedding date, no hooking up, no significant other?”
“Nah. I hook up now and then, but I’m one of those ‘project’ types girls think they can take on and change.” I snort before continuing. “Ezra and I even have a whole point system for our hookups and all the different ways they try to get us to hang around. It’s how the ‘Cousins Grimm’ thing started, the two of us out partying together. It’s really pathetic when you think about us keeping a tally, but at some point, you’ve got to find joy somewhere.”
When I roll over toward her, I can’t handle watching her look up at the ceiling, so sad and lost. She arches to face me, and as gently as I can, I brush a lock of hair out of her face. “No guy is worth crying about, Henri.”