72. Deacon
Chapter 72
Deacon
I’m constantly battling being selfish. We’ve been home for two days, and Henri is in the trenches of reacclimating with all the ‘stuff’ that went on while we were away. Her team did a great job, but some things and people just need the ‘Henri touch.’ All I want to do, however, is glue myself to Henri’s side because around every turn, more and more ancestors are coming out of the woodwork.
South Dakota and the woman in the kitchen had to have been a fluke. Not once since then have I been able to make one of the ancestors go away. I’ve tried everything. Except the one thing that I know works.
The reality of our situation is that I’m committed to being sober. Micro-dosing being a thing of the past is leaving me up to the good old-fashioned ‘try hard’ method for success. Would it have been easier not to come home to the usual ancestors? Maybe the trouble is these ones know me too well, and I can’t just make them go away.
Spending time in the living room and catching Henri on breaks feels less pathetic than lying on the floor outside her office. That precise distance is the closest I can be to her and talk to the ancestors when they won’t go away.
But it’s also the farthest I can get from her before the little dark thoughts start infiltrating my brain. It’s the darkness in my brain that’s the worst of it. The little slivers of truth weave themselves into insecurities that have me questioning if it would have been easier had we not claimed each other.
She’s worth it, I remind myself as I watch Lauren leave for the day. She walks out the back doors onto the deck, straight through Bud. He dissipates, not reforming, at least for now.
Embrace the wolf, control the gift, how hard could it fucking be?
Go see our mate. My wolf pushes me to move up off the couch, and I’m about to start stalking her again when footsteps come down the hall.
I close my eyes to shut out one sense in hopes of focusing on the others.
Ghosts don’t make footsteps, so I know the footfalls are real. Finn’s heavier steps. Cade’s long strides. Thalia giggles, but no Henri.
Lena comes bounding down the stairs from the other direction. “Hey, Dea.”
“Vell hello, Lena.” I give her the fake Minnesotan accent. Don’t look too crushed. I focus on being neutral.
“Yous gotcha self some dinner plans?” She wraps her arms around me tightly.
Giving her a squeeze, I’m quick to let her go. I drop the fake accent. “No, but I’d be glad to join you, assuming Henri didn’t make us plans.”
Lena nods. “Yeah. It’ll be fun. We’re thinking about running tonight too.”
“Super nice out. It’d be a good night for it.” I agree halfheartedly.
My wolf stretches at the promise of time outside .
It’s been a long day, and Henri worked through lunch; I know she’s not avoiding me. But I’d hoped we’d be able to at least talk. Even if it’s just a couple sentences. I miss spending time with her every day.
These stolen glances, stalking her again, aren’t sustaining me anymore. Not after I had weeks by her side.
Cade, Thalia, and Finn take over the kitchen, talking about their days. I sit and listen, but none of it catches or keeps my attention.
I could just slip down the hall and steal her out of her office?
“Deacon?” Finn says my name like he repeated it.
I blink and pull my focus back to him, making sure to watch him as he speaks. Focus . “Yeah, Finn?”
“How many days has it been now?”
I know Finn means it innocently. He’s trying to show interest, and he’s trying to be supportive, but fuck.
It rubs me the wrong way, bristling me from the inside out. The wolf I’ve been trying to adjust to owning rises to the surface.
“Seriously?” I growl at him, straightening from where I’ve leaned against the counter. “We’re going to do this?”
“Hey, Dea.” Thalia tries to draw my attention and my anger off Finn.
Not today, little red. Not today.
“We’re going to act like this is some sort of goal or ridiculous triumph we’re calculating? It’s been nine days since our last velociraptor attack.” I try to calm down, drawing a deep breath and forcing myself to look away.
But the words came out. I snapped. There’s no putting the cat back in the bag it didn’t like being in to start with.
My wolf snarls, trying to force me to look back at him. Anger boils within me. Bite him. Force submission. We are Ardelean .
I choose to draw another breath instead and push my hair out of my eyes. Most of the gravel from my growl is out of my voice. “It’s been nine fucking days. I’ve been home for two days, and I’ve talked to at least a dozen people.” I push my finger against the counter, emphasizing those words. “People who weren’t there. I thought I’d try to distract myself, so I took my bike and went to the coffee shop in town. I was so sure he was alive that I asked him if there was a war reenactment taking place. Thank fuck the barista at the damn coffee shop thought I was a tourist looking at the corkboard posters.”
“Deacon.” Cade gives me his caring voice, and I know he means well, but it feels like more condescension. “One—”
“Cade, you finish that fucking sentence with ‘day at a time,’ and I might actually rip someone’s throat out.” I look around the room at all of them. Even little red isn’t spared from my anger, and that guts me on a new level. None of them are willing to put any belief in me. “It used to be that I was suicidal with a slight sociopathic tendency toward vengeance against people who hurt my family. But now I’m on the verge of a killing spree with a dash of good old-fashioned murder-suicide.”
Shaking my head, I slide off the stool and go to leave. Fuck dinner. Fuck them. I want my mate.
I nearly run straight into Henri.
Everything about her is wrong. It’s not quite right. She looks away from me, and it’s just another stab to my heart.
I’m nine days sober. It’s the second longest time in I don’t know how many years and just as awful as the time before.
Seeing the way Henri looks at me, disappointment and regret in her frown and soft eyes, makes me question how badly I want to keep that promise to Lena.
How do I know if he’s fully matured for Revecca to take him?
Up in my room, Bud, one of my usual haunts, is sitting in my chair, looking at whatever I left open on my desk .
Rather than uproot him from the chair, I slump down along the wall and look at him. “Do you ever just sit back and look at your life and think: yeah, that tracks?”
“All the time,” Bud replies. “Your life is a fucking mess.”
“Yeah. I meant in general but fair.” I thud my head back against the wall.
“Least you could do is get a job.” He huffs.
It’s interesting that he thinks that’s the base of my problems.
Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “I don’t know how many people are alive or not in a room. Can’t exactly be helping people if I don’t know if they have a date of death, and I wouldn’t even know if my boss is alive or dead.”
“You could just ask.” He tries to solve my problem with so little effort.
“Ahh, yes. Mr. Bossman Sir, could you please tell me which side of the turf you woke up on today? Oh, you don’t remember waking up today. Well, I’m not sure you’re alive. So, carry on.” I run through the fake scenario in my head.
“Don’t have to be such a dick.” Bud shakes his head. “This is why that girl wolf of yours took so long to be interested in you. You don’t take anything seriously.”
If this conversation had happened last month, I would have considered what he was saying as true.
“She and I are more complicated than that,” I explain to him. Gesturing to him, I add, “By trying to avoid you fuckers, I messed up my wolf, and now I’m stuck waiting for my wolf to catch up maturity-wise. I thought I had it figured out, but here we are. I’m still forced to look at your ugly mug.”
Bud turns to look at me and laughs a solid ‘ha’ before shaking his head. “So, total sobriety, then?”
“Yeah, go tell Zachariah. I’m sure he’ll pretty much move in.” I glower, not actually wanting him to cause more chaos .
“Well, if there’s anyone who could do it, it’d be you.” Bud nods, inspecting me. “I’ve never seen someone get so fixated on something until he found a way to fix it. Think about all the left-for-dead motors you’ve cranked new life into.”
The notion seems ridiculous, but stubbornness is very much an Ardelean trait.
“So, how many days do you need to be sober to fix it, and how many days has it been? You were gone for a long time.” Bud, ever so analytical, starts in on the mechanics of the situation.
“Nine days sober.” I think back to the last drink I had, and then further back to the conversation with Revecca. “And we have no idea how long before my wolf rights himself and I become the Alpha wolf I was intended to be. Again, I thought I’d done it by now. Made a ghost go away when we were gone just fine, but you fuckers are more stubborn.”
“Well, then the answer is that it’s not nine.” Bud gives me a smile. “Guess we’ll have to see if it’s ten.”
“Thanks.” I change the subject. “Any chance you looked at the Comet in the garage?”
“Yeah. Needs a new head gasket. You were off your game if you missed that,” he informs me.
I knew the gasket needed to be replaced, but seeing how much haunting he’s done while I’m not around is just one of my favorite pastimes.
Bud doesn’t hover. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
“Thanks.” Closing my eyes, I stay seated against the wall.