47. Deacon
Chapter 47
Deacon
By the time day six rolls around, Henri is a little stir-crazy, asking more and more about Cade’s work schedule and if he’s making his meetings. I’ve enjoyed the quiet peace of our routine. Me reading and her crocheting into the afternoons, then watching movies and relaxing together. Since the first time we had sex, neither of us has initiated anything. Sure, we’ve flirted, but it never went anywhere.
Touching her has seemed taboo. I want her, but she’s dodged it a little. Not one to push, I’ve let it go. Whatever she’s working through isn’t ready to be solved. That’s not for me to heal but for her to find in introspection.
But this drive home is killing me, anticipation on every breath.
There’s this awkward moment when you can just feel a breakup coming. I’ve only been through it twice before, and it was enough for me to stick up the ‘not relationship material’ sign on the front lawn and call a spade a spade. I’m only built for one-night or one-weekend commitments.
Henri is giving off epic there’s-a-breakup- coming energy.
We turn off the main highway, onto the road that’ll lead to the pack property, when she finally pulls up the conversation. “You said earlier that we don’t know what we’re doing or how to define what we are to each other.” Her hesitation is apparent in the pauses between her words.
“I did.” Come on, Henri. This doesn’t have to go this way. I watch her in my peripheral vision.
She fiddles with her hair. “Is it okay with you if we stay this way for a while? Not defined but not nothing?”
“We are something,” I answer quickly.
My wolf snarls in frustration, demanding I fight for her. But I won’t, not right this minute. I know Henri and all the things going on in her head. She can’t just jump into this. Fuck, I can’t promise to be perfect for her either.
“Oh.” Henri laughs, nervous tension bleeding from her side of the car.
She’s our fucking mate, you numb nuts. My wolf berates me. You can’t let her walk.
I ignore him. “We just watched Lena’s life explode when she and Finn were outed. I’m not opposed to just being ‘us’ while we figure out who ‘we’ are.” I use one-handed air quotes, hoping she hears how I don’t want to really separate but am open to keeping us quiet without being disrespectful toward her. She doesn’t deserve to feel like a secret.
Fuck, relationships are hard.
“Uhm.” Henri doesn’t drop it.
My stomach roils like I’m on a jet doing a nosedive. The breakup still on course. Can’t be broken up if it was just sex one time, Deacon. I chastise myself, but it doesn’t help the feeling.
“Just say it, Henri.”
“I’m just not ready to really be anything.” She winces as she says it .
You fucking scared her, my wolf snaps. He immediately wants to fawn over her, to kiss her and make her feel better.
“It’s just that... I need to prove to Cade that I can still do my job and be trusted. I really fucked up, and I know you’re going to say it’s fine, but it doesn’t feel fine.” She picks at a loose thread on her sweater.
I don’t know how to respond to what she’s saying, but saying nothing feels rude. Reassuring her that Cade won’t fire her isn’t going to ease her worry. Having Cade fire her to get her to chill out will breed animosity. There’s no win in this situation.
So, I lie. “I get it. You need some time.”
I turn the blinker on and pull up to the gate. We’re waved through instantly.
“You sure?” Henri draws a deep breath.
“Positive.” I fight the disappointment out of my voice. “It’s all good. Which cabin is yours?”
“The one directly across from Ms. Gertie.” Henri perks up thinking about her.
How could anyone not? She’s most certainly one of the sweetest women in the world.
I drop Henri off and loop back up to the house.
I’m not even all the way into the mudroom before Cade’s breathing down my throat. “How’s our girl?”
“She’s back on the wagon and nervous as fuck you’re going to fire her.” I scrub my hand down my face. “Not like I need to say this, but you’re not allowed to fire her.”
Cade laughs, but it’s a nervous one. The stress hiding in it is telling. “I don’t know that I could replace Henri. I will double her salary if she signs a work contract for a minimum of five years. It was fucking awful without her.”
“Well, that might be necessary.” I kick my shoes off and shoulder past him into the house .
“What?” Cade follows me to the kitchen.
I open the refrigerator and start digging through leftovers. We missed Equinox, and the fridge is loaded with extra food. There’s got to be something munchies worthy in here.
“Deacon,” he snaps.
“Yeah?” I don’t want to elaborate on what I just said.
I lean into playing the ‘I’m more messed up than I appear’ version of Deacon. Except I’m not micro-dosed. Yet. Hopefully, but unlikely, he won’t notice I’m painfully sober.
“What do you mean that might be necessary?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest as if he can intimidate me.
I’ve never been afraid of Cade.
My wolf snarls and snaps at the challenge. I fight him back down. This is why you’re getting punished. We’re going upstairs, and you’re taking a nap.
He retreats within me.
“Dea, I put you and Henri together because anyone with a single brain cell bouncing around in their head, like that computer screen saver, can see you two belong to each other. It’s why Ezra wasn’t the primary choice for playing nice with the humans.”
“Well, your hopes of pushing us together weren’t worth it. I hate to break it to you, but she’s not interested.” Not one fucking bit.
I toss one of the containers of food in the microwave. Steak with roasted vegetables.
Cade doesn’t deny his meddling. “How is that even possible?”
I shrug, holding my arms out at ninety-degree angles and raising and lowering them.
Pursing my lips and raising my eyebrows, I try to drive the point home. “I’m not exactly the top candidate in the mate-material category.” I sigh and pull a fork out of the drawer, ready to stir my meal. “Henri isn’t on board. I don’t blame her.”
“Fuck, Dea.”
The pity in Cade’s voice hurts about as bad as being put in this limbo. Because I’m not sure we were even really dating to consider it a breakup.
The microwave beeps before either of us speak again, and I stir the contents before tossing it back in. “I don’t want to talk about it, Cade. I got your publicist back up and working. That’s what the ask was. That’s what I did.”
“I’m done letting you tell me we’re not talking about something,” Cade presses.
He runs his hand back through his hair, and I feel the tension of The Leviathan coming forward.
Command me all you want, fucker. You won’t like what I have to say.
“Revecca gave me some pretty good instructions on what I need to do before she’ll consider removing my problem from me. You said so yourself, there’s a difference.” I change the subject before I break down over Henri.
“Yeah, she and I had a chat.” He rolls his eyes. “Nah, I shouldn’t say it that way. She’s quickly becoming my third favorite sibling.”
“You only have three,” I grumble as the microwave beeps again. “Unless you’re still counting Robert, and in that case, I’m questioning my ranking.”
On autopilot, I pull the food out and stir again. It’s steaming now and ready to eat.
“Deacon.” Cade makes me look at him with a firm bite in that word.
“Cade?” I get cocky with him.
Provoke him and fight until he kills me? No. Thalia will be sad.
“You are my favorite sibling. ”
The container and fork slip out of my hands. Instantly I try to stop them but am a fraction of a second too slow. The plastic container flips as it falls, and my now-hot dinner is dumped out on the floor. I miss the guilt-free days when I’d leave it for the staff to clean up. But a decade of being the responsible one means I can’t force myself to text Lauren to send someone to fix my mess.
Cade beats me to it, bringing the roll of paper towels and wet rag while I just stare at what feels like a good analogy for my life. So close I could taste it, yet it slipped through my fingers.
“You’re my favorite because you don’t take my shit, and you give me perspective,” Cade explains.
I finally move, pulling out the trash can from its place at the end of the counter by the sink.
“You’re also the one I can talk to about getting the job done, and you don’t judge me when I want to do it in less politically correct ways.”
The conversation has taken an unexpected turn, so I take advantage and follow it. “How many times did Nathan call and text?”
“The contents are more alarming than the quantity,” Cade confirms. “I was hoping we could warn him off before things escalate.”
“I’ll get it done.” I run the wet rag over the floor after he throws the last of the food in the trash.