19. Henri
Chapter 19
Henri
When I emerge from the bathroom in what was Lena’s suite, Deacon is scrolling through his phone. He stops before clicking the burner on the stove and starting the steaks in the pan with the peppers.
Deacon is quiet, and I understand why.
Everything is all my fault. I shouldn’t have come here. But the more time I spend with Deacon, the more like he feels like a place I can call home. It’s a warm and fuzzy feeling in my heart that I don’t feel with anyone else. I’ve never felt this close with anyone. Yet, I’ve fucked it all up.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Don’t be sorry, Henri.” Deacon stirs the steak slices and coats them in a seasoning. “Did you want tortilla or rice bowls or both?”
“Rice in the tortilla?” I hope that means he’s dropping the conversation because ‘be smarter, leave him’ is what I’m guessing comes after ‘don’t be sorry, Henri.’
As kind and caring as Deacon is, he just can’t possibly understand. He has people who love and support him no matter what. Deacon won’t understand that at the end of the day... without Nathan, I’ll have no one and nothing. Even if I take the pack up on all their offers, I’ll just be at someone else’s mercy.
“Rice in the tortilla it is,” Deacon confirms.
He heats tortillas on the stove, tossing them in a fancy tortilla keeper. Once he’s done, he takes his bowl to the giant sofa and comes back for mine.
I’m quick to object. “Oh, it’s fine, we can...”
“Henri, let me take care of you.” His eyes are soft, and his attitude has changed.
I nod and accept his help off the stool. It’s strange for someone to help me. Sure, I remember my adoptive parents caring for me, like making dinner and such, but nothing like this. But that’s because I’ve never needed someone to care for me.
I’m a wolf, and being a wolf means no sickness or sick days, and even now, Deacon is here physically supporting me, but time is making the pain fade.
Deacon sets my bowl down on one side of the coffee table and his on the other, giving me the space we usually take from each other.
The cozy couch in DC where we shared a meal is what I want. But it’s not right. Nathan is right, maybe I’m having an emotional affair with Deacon.
“I don’t trust you, Henri. You’re always fucking with him. Why can’t you get someone else to be his wrangler? What is he, some sort of giant man - child?” Nathan shouts at me.
“It’s not like that at all.” I shake my head. “He’s a decent guy. He’s just different and needs someone more in tune with handling someone more complex. ”
“I can’t believe you’re standing up for him!” Nathan screams, his face turning red. “You know he wants to fuck you, right?”
“No. I promise he doesn’t.” I put my hand on Nathan’s chest, trying to calm him down. I keep my voice soft. “He doesn’t want to fuck me. I’m not his type at all.”
He laughs. “Ha. Henri, you’re so naive. Has he even fucked someone else in all the time you’ve known him? I bet you even get one hotel room so he doesn’t pick up any randos.”
“We get a suite with multiple rooms because then we can control the security better and—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence before Nathan pushes me back against the wall.
“Henri.” Deacon sits next to me on the sofa. “Come on, Henri, come back.”
Safe. My wolf reassures me, pushing me into him.
I’m trembling, and I don’t know how to stop. I draw a long, deep breath, but it gets stuck in my throat, and I choke. I can’t even breathe.
I can’t breathe.
Deacon pushes my shoulders back from where I’ve hunched in around myself, and the air comes easier. He squeezes my hand and whispers, “Slow breaths. Focus on steady, not deep.”
It’s not that easy. But I try to do what he says. I follow him through breathing exercises just like Cade does for Thalia.
Are they all masters of therapeutic techniques? Surely not. Because the only way I’ve seen Finn handle Lena is disappearing for twenty minutes, and she comes back with an attitude adjustment.
These thoughts, of normalcy, of the people I see daily, settle the panic in my wolf. This is what belonging is.
This is pack, my wolf offers. Then she insists, He is ours. No matter how it feels off the stupid suppressants, we’re never letting him go.
When the shaking stops, Deacon moves to separate us.
My fingers cling to his shirt. “Stay?”
He reaches for his food before cozying in next to me and my plate of fajitas.
“You’ll be okay, Henri.” Deacon’s wolf comes to the surface despite what I assumed was a full glass of a screwdriver nearly emptied on the counter.
“Are you sure?”
Deacon wraps his arm around me while still eating with his other hand, stabbing into his bowl. “I’m sure. Let’s eat, and then if you wanna talk, we can.” He pulls the TV remote out from under a pillow. “Trashy housewives of some god-awful city, trashy boat peoples, or humans trying to survive in the wilderness.”
“Trashy boat peoples.” I nod, knowing exactly what show he’s talking about.
One episode in, and I’ve all but licked my plate clean when Deacon turns the television off and rotates on the couch next to me. “I’ll tell Cade to assign someone else to me. We’ve proven I can behave and do this whole public appearance thing as long as I keep myself the right level of inebriated. So, it’s time you go back to managing your staff and Cade’s appearances full time. I’ll promise to only run off the employees I think are assholes.”
I don’t know what to say. Tears prick my eyes, and I blink them back, forcing myself to see the logic in this. A whine rises inside me like sick bile, betraying the understanding and professional nature I know I need to put forward. “Okay.”
Deacon is right. Until I can figure out my next move, it would be easier if I could tell Nathan I’m not managing Deacon full time.
But the way Deacon is pulling away from me confirms that the Aldens’ hospitality is just another crutch for me to hold onto in life. They don’t want me so much as they want me safe. It would be some sort of indebted feeling all over again. I need to find my own way without their help.