70. Henri
Chapter 70
Henri
“Penny for your thoughts?” Out on the front deck of the rental property, Deacon offers me a glass of water, and while handing it to me, he gives me a kiss on the top of my head.
Only six hours ago we were fucking and having so much fun, but the real world is catching up to me again. Without the lust-filled smog of heat, my new reality is sinking in, and it’s not all happy mating marks and newfound family.
“If you give me a penny for my thoughts, and I give you my two cents... what do you do with the extra penny?” I draw a sip of water.
“It’s for the wishing well, so I can wish for a way to fix this for you.” The genuine smile brings me out of my funk. He sits down in one of the deck chairs next to me. “So?”
The wind shifts, and I brush my hair out of my eyes. “I’m wondering how my parents are doing. If they miss me, and if I screwed up the opportunity to ever have them in my life anymore, all over an abusive asshole.”
Deacon’s genuine smile turns into a scrunched-up expression of guilt. “We’ve already decided I’m an obsessive stalker with little to no remorse in the notion of hurting myself or others, right?”
“What did you do?” I groan. He’s so lucky he’s pretty with all this law - breaking trouble.
“Broke into your really old social media account and checked in on your parents.” He comes clean without any prompting or hesitation.
“Deacon,” I snap at him. “Do you know any boundaries?”
“Consent for sex?” His cheeky smile lets him off the hook, but it doesn’t settle my nerves.
I process in silence. Do I want to know? What would knowing do?
Deacon hangs his head, leaning forward in his chair to rest his elbows on his knees. “Where did your brain go?”
“I can’t decide if I want to know or not.” My voice trembles.
“It’s like Shr?dinger’s cat. If you don’t ask the question or I don’t give an answer, then whatever you want it to be is real,” Deacon offers.
This instance is just one of many where it’s like I’m not smart enough to understand Deacon. “Is that really how that works?”
Rather than make me feel bad about it, he explains. “Without opening the box, the cat is both alive and dead simultaneously. However, when you choose to open the box, the answer is there. The cat is either alive or dead. It can no longer be both. Ultimately, it was about quantum mechanics, but that part, to most people, isn’t as interesting as the psychology of the subject and how it reflects our own personal fears, beliefs, and happiness.”
“What you’re saying is that sometimes it’s better for our own health to never open the box and just pick the cat’s fate?” I clarify.
He nods. “And it’s a valid option. ”
“Would I be upset if I knew the answer?” Tears well in my eyes.
“You’re going to be upset either way.” Deacon places his hand on my thigh. It’s warm, comforting. “You’re already upset not knowing. Is processing an answer better than the uncertainty? If it were me? I’d want to know.”
I’m bobbing my head before I can even get words out. But Deacon waits for me to say it first. “I want to know.”
“Your parents send you messages three times a week, every week,” he says with a soft smile.
A sob runs through my entire body. “No.”
“They haven’t missed your birthday, a holiday, or adoption day.” Deacon moves out of his chair to sit on the ground in front of me, resting his hands on my thighs. “There’s hope for a reconciliation and their love for you... I can’t fathom.”
I nearly drop the water glass. Deacon pulls it from my hand and sets it on the ground beside him.
“I can’t.” Can’t what?
“You don’t have to message them right now. There’s no reason to talk or try to figure things out right this second. You’ve got a complicated relationship. It’s going to feel big for a little while.” Deacon rubs my thighs, comforting me. “But if you want the relationship, it’s there for you to have.”
I slide out of the chair and land in his lap, wrapping my legs around his waist. When my head comes to rest on his shoulder where I marked him as mine, Deacon nuzzles in.
He firmly wraps his arms around me and whispers, “It’s going to be okay. This will work out however it’s supposed to.”
We stay like this, in each other’s arms, or rather, Deacon held hostage by me and my emotional breakdown. Tears trail down my face, and I sniffle until my head hurts.
At last, I gather a modicum of composure. “I want to contact them. ”
“Okay.” Deacon nods against me. “It’s your social media account. You can do it at any time. Or, if you’d like, I can reach out to them on your behalf.”
The offer is sweet. It feels foreign. “You’d do that for me?”
“Henri, this is small potatoes compared to the things I would do for you.” He kisses my shoulder right where my mating mark is. “You’re mine. I’m yours. We’ve a whole lifetime together and a world around us. We will always come up with a way to solve problems together.”
I make a small decision, at least for now. “I’m going to think about it for a little bit.”
“You’ve got time to make the decision. They’re both healthy and doing well,” Deacon assures me.
My soul feels easier with that information. “So, about us?”
“Well,” Deacon hums out. “I was hoping you’d consider moving into the main house. But I wouldn’t mind moving down to your cabin. It does occur to me, though, that just because we’ve claimed each other, you may not be ready to be mates.”
“We’re mates.” I’m quick to cut him off. “We’re mates, and I’m moving in. Just means I’ve got farther to walk every morning for tea with Ms. Gertie.”
His chin moves against my head, and I know he’s smiling without seeing it. “I’m so glad you like her.”
“What’s not to love?” I correct.
“Nothing, but she’s important to me and to Cade and Thalia.” He adds them on quickly. “But I can’t explain it. She’s just a maternal figure even though I’ve known her such a short time. Someone I didn’t know I needed.”
“That is the best way to explain it.” I agree, leaning back a little bit to face him. “Can we go home tomorrow?”
Deacon nods. “If you’re feeling good, we can go home tomorrow.”