71. Deacon
Chapter 71
Deacon
Should we have stopped for the night on the nearly twelve-hour drive home? Absolutely. Did we? No, we did not. But Henri wanted to drive, and it gave me a couple hours to sleep off the road fatigue, so I accepted her help.
The house is quiet when we walk through the door into the mudroom. I let out a sigh of relief. How was it nearly three weeks since we rushed out of here with under ten minutes’ notice? How did my entire life get so much better since then?
“Shit, Deacon.” Henri turns around to face me, terror written across her face. “Your bike is at the airport.”
I lean to the side and open the door to the garage. “Had a friend pick it up for me.”
“You let someone else ride your bike?” She squints at the bike and then at me. “I don’t know a lot about motorcycles, but from what I’ve heard, their riders are very particular about them.”
I close the door and step into her, putting my arms around her waist. “You worry far too much. No, my friend Romeo owns a towing company. He went down and hauled it home for me.”
“Oh.” She lets out a sigh but then stiffens and scrubs a hand down her face. “Oh, gross, I left my lunch in my office.”
“I’m sure Lauren and her staff found it.” I reassure her while trying to read between the lines of her yo-yoing emotions. “Henri, take a beat.” I brush a lock of hair out of her face and tilt her chin up to look at me. “Talk about it?”
“Everything’s changed.” She looks away from me to the door that leads to the main portion of the house.
“This is one of those times where ‘nothing has changed’ even though you feel differently about it.” I try to explain my thoughts without invalidating her feelings. “Your job is still right here waiting for you. Your office has been cleaned. Your staff has been working. Life’s been going on in the usual way, which it does.”
Carefully I let her go and kick off my shoes, nudging them over by the cubby, the bags of dirty clothes still in the car.
Henri pulls off her heels and pushes her shoes over next to mine, but she’s squirming. “I could just take them to where they belong.”
“Leave them.” I correct her. “This is where they belong now. We’ve got a garage stall just for your personal vehicle. This will be your entrance and exit.”
“Oh. Why?” Henri looks over at me, and it takes a minute before it dawns on her. She covers her face with her hands. “Okay, I swear I’m not stupid. Don’t regret claiming me.”
“You’re my mate.” I step back over to her and wrap my arms tightly around her, pulling her as close to me as possible. “I’m never going to regret you. But fuck do I ever sound as sappy as Cade.”
That gets a small laugh and then a swoony, “But they’re so cute together.”
“They’re here!” Lena yells from the main portion of the house.
I stiffen. “Shit, she’s on to us. It’s not too late to go to your cabin.”
Henri tenses too. Her heart is beating like a bass drum at a rock concert. “I thought you said it would—”
“I was joking. Hen. I’m sorry.” I relax my hold on her. “There’s nothing to worry about. Come on, let’s go see what has Lena excited.”
It takes a minute, but Henri draws a breath and gets the fear under control. Making sure she’s with me, I lead the way into the foyer and then into the large great room with the kitchen.
Our family is here, but so are the regular ancestors, Marielle, Bud, and Zachariah, the boy with the jacks from the stairs, and a few others who come and go.
I try to close them out, focusing like I did back in South Dakota. They don’t budge. My wolf focuses on the room around us, mostly Henri, and I try to draw his attention to the ancestors. It’s useless.
Lena is pouring champagne into flutes on the counter.
“What are we celebrating?” Henri’s question has Cade looking between the two of us.
He’s questioning our relationship together, but I give nothing away.
I clear my throat to explain, but Thalia beats me. “Well, Ansel being released and the great job you did...”
When Thalia trails off Lena picks up her thread. “And the fact that you spent a week in bed with Deacon and didn’t kill him.”
Finn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Christ almighty, faolan.”
I place my hand on her shoulder where the mating mark is.
She looks up at me. “You told them?”
“Haven’t talked to any of them since we left Ansel’s.” Instantly, I realize how bad that kind of is as far as security risk goes and check Cade out of my peripheral vision.
“But you live with me,” Lena says. She approaches and hands us each a champagne flute. “Congratulations.”
“Apple juice for preggo.” Lena slides one to Thalia. “To all of us and the impossible.”
I clink my flute with theirs and raise it to my lips.
My wolf snarls and snaps at me, angry that I’m even considering it.
I pull the flute away and look down at the effervescent liquid in the cup. Not worth it.
The family breaks out in chatter as Henri catches up with Cade and Thalia. We hear about Ansel and Morrigan’s mating ceremony and how my cousin had his wolf reset.
It seems hypocritical that Revecca would do something like that for him but not help me. But she wanted my wolf to be mature and for me to try getting control. Revecca said it’s going to take time for my wolf to settle, but what if he never does?
Marielle watches me closely, arms crossed in front of her chest, as I clean up after my family, loading the champagne flutes into the dishwasher.
She hums. “It’s not like you to not partake. Finally decided to do something with your life?”
Ignore her, and she’ll go away . It’s an old technique that never worked.
“What, you’re ignoring us now?” She huffs. “After all the years and shit we’ve done for you?”
“Go away, Marielle,” I say softly, trying not to distract from the room. Should have fucking had the drink.
My wolf, completely ignoring my request for assistance, pushes me to walk away from the ancestor and back toward where my family has congregated on the couch. Bud’s looking out the window, but Zachariah is looking menacingly at Henri.
It was so much easier in South Dakota. Maybe it only works on the ones you don’t personally know?
I don’t debate it too much but rather pull a blanket off the blanket rack and bring it over to the couch. I pull Henri into my lap and drape it over the top of us, cutting off any view Zachariah may have.
Maybe it’ll just take more time.
I cuddle in against Henri, disconnecting from the world to decompress.
It’s not until Henri moves in my lap, turning to kiss me, that I realize I drifted off to sleep.
“Take me to bed?”
“Of course, Hen.” I kiss her back, letting her go.