90. Deacon
Chapter 90
Deacon
The darkness I feel from Henri is so uncharacteristic that I check the bond a hundred thousand times over to make sure it’s not me. I never thought I’d be learning something about interpersonal relationships from Lena, but her lessons on feeling the bond have become the best ones I’ve had to work with. Cade’s attempt was ‘It’s like a string-can telephone but better’ and ‘think of the old school walkie-talkies but with feelings.’ He tried.
‘We’re wolf shifters. We’re not indestructible. She’s been through hell. It’s going to take time, Deacon’ was an explanation I didn’t like hearing, but everyone swears she’s going to be fine in a week or so.
It’s only been four days. I feel like she should have been monitored for longer.
I hate worrying about her. I hate that the bright point of my life is a shadow of hurt and suffering. The book on grief Ezra suggested was nearly seven hundred pages, but I dedicated nighttime hours, sitting next to Henri’s bedside, to reading it. As much as I disdain self-help books, this felt easier than talking about it. Even with Dinah, the one who would understand the most.
My wolf is diligently watching her. Studying and noting all the changes in her movement, the feedback we’re getting in the bond, and how it could mean different things. But the drugs she’s on are potent. Even with my tolerance, I wouldn’t be able to find my wolf, so any chance he has of interpreting hers is on hold.
I’m finally pulling the car into the driveway. Doctor Thorpe and Doctor Bowes were certain she’d be safe to travel and more comfortable at home, but that didn’t stop me from cautiously navigating away from every single pothole I could. Since Henri still has some complaints about stomach pain, the suspension of our new, near-indestructible SUV was put to the test and passed.
Henri lets me open the SUV door for her, and I help her out.
“Do you want to go upstairs or stay down here for a bit?” I offer direct choices, trying to keep her brain from needing to think through her options.
“I need to eat.” Henri uses the same casual tone she’s adopted since having woken up.
The way she avoids looking at me feels personal, but I want to give her space to adjust before we talk about this and about us. It doesn’t stop it from hurting.
Thalia pokes her head into the kitchen while I’m preparing a snack. Or, rather, the most wolf charcuterie board I’ve ever made.
With a little cant of my head, I welcome her in.
“I’m glad you’re home.” Thalia breaks the silence and starts to carry on with normal life. “We were talking about the Winter Solstice run and how weird it was without the two of you goofballs running at the back, messing around.”
“I resent that.” I shake my head. “I am not a goofball. I’m clearly a silly goose and we’re not messing around, we’re lollygagging.”
We could run. My wolf debates. We should kill first. He points to the darkness of my heart and soul. His friend, the one who was with him.
He makes valid points, but I’m going to enjoy that hunt. I’ll spend the next six months making him aware that a predator is chasing him, but not blatantly enough that he can prove it.
Henri shakes her head. “We’re not lollygagging. We’re dillydallying.”
I feel sweet relief when she joins the conversation. My heart soars, but I don’t press her too much. “What’s the difference between those two anyway?”
“Well, one thing’s for certain. We can all agree that you’re not monkeying around.” Thalia laughs.
“Now I’ll have to make that a new goal. Next pack run I will most certainly find a way to monkey around.” I set the board in front of Henri. “Here you are, Hen.”
Medium-rare roast beef wrapped with a sharp cheddar. Thick-cut bacon with brown-sugar melted butter and flakey crackers. Strips of moose jerky and dried cranberries. Spinach leaves wrapped around mozzarella balls with balsamic vinegar. And then little cheesy crackers in the shape of bunny rabbits that I’ve seen her eat on occasion.
I start making up another one for me and Thalia to share.
“I can’t wait to get back to work.” Henri gives a short laugh, and she brings her hand to her stomach. “Ugh. No laughing.”
“I think you like working too much. You need a hobby.” Thalia goes to the fridge and pulls out some juice and a pitcher of water. Then she starts digging in the fancy ice drawer she put in there a few weeks ago. She comes up with a mocktail, filling three glasses .
“I started crocheting. But there’s just something about keeping my brain busy.” She groans.
“Well, you’re always more than welcome to keep me company in the archive.” Thalia sighs. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get”—she pauses and changes direction—“done with all those boxes. Whoever stored these documents, books, and art clearly never heard of organization.”
“It’s okay to talk about being pregnant.” Henri takes a bite of food and chews.
Thalia and I hold our breath . How did it not occur to me that Thalia is pregnant, and it could be a trigger?
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, would you two breathe?” Henri looks between the two of us. “I was barely pregnant. It’s not like it was really anything.”
She doesn’t mean everything in that sentence, the feelings in our bond betraying her.
“I just want to try and go back to normal. It’s not like I’m the only woman in this house who is struggling with this.” Henri takes a sip of her drink.
“Okay.” Thalia nods. “So, anyway... I could maybe convince you to come keep me company. Deacon’s been awful at it. He met this girl and has been completely obsessed with her. Which, fair because she’s pretty much perfect but rude because we’re best friends.”
Henri snorts. “In his defense, I’m a shitty stalker, so he needs to make it easy for me.”
My wolf wags his tail thinking of all the times we’ve caught her watching us but ignored it. She is really bad at it.
So bad. I agree. I object and try to defend her from herself anyway. “You’re not shitty at it. You just clearly need more practice and perhaps to wear fewer pairs of high heels.” My defense isn’t exactly doing a great job.
It gets us all smiling, but while munching on the food from the board I made Thalia and myself, I watch Henri pick at hers. She at least eats a little of everything.
The drugs that she’s on make your appetite smaller, I remind myself.
Quite a bit later, Cade finds Thalia and drags her away, and I finally get Henri on our way up to our room. When we get to the elevator, it’s already on the ground floor. I let her lead the way in and she pushes the button.
“I’m so glad to be home.” She sighs as I unlock the door to our suite.
The staff and construction company had been working overtime to get the front of my suite more habitable and the bedroom finished off while we were gone. It paid off because it feels more like home than a wreck.
Henri doesn’t comment on the space, and I take it as a good sign as I follow her extra closely to the bedroom.
“Can I wear one of your shirts?” She grumbles as she tries to strip off the one I brought her to the hospital.
I rush past her, getting her fluffy sweatpants, a T-shirt, and underwear. The spotting from the miscarriage stopped late last night, so I don’t put one of the pads that Dinah sent home in the underwear for her.
When I return to the bedroom, Henri lets me dress her. Kissing up her legs, I slide the pants up at the same time as the underwear. She strokes my hair absentmindedly.
I tie the little strings snugly but not tight around her waist. Then I roll up the T-shirt and plop it over her head, getting a soft smile when her head is through the neck of the shirt.
Her eyelids are heavy, and I’m sure, between the drugs that are still in her system and the basic movements of changing clothes, she’s already exhausted. Arms through the sleeves, she’s ready for another nap.
“How’s your pain?” It’s such a valid concern, but it feels shameful that I’m just hoping she takes the pain meds as an escape from her own mind.
“I’m sore,” Henri admits. “I feel so weak having to take something. Like—”
I cut her off with a kiss. Then I correct her as empathetically as I possibly can. “You’re not weak for admitting you hurt after nearly being killed. The doctors and Dinah wouldn’t have sent you home with pain meds if you weren’t supposed to take them.”
Henri sighs and leans against me, not in a hug but just a lean.
I wrap my arms around her, letting the sorrow hit me again. If I could take it all from her, I would. My darkness, used to pain and suffering, could bear this for her. It wouldn’t be a burden. Not if it meant saving her from it.
I’m built for the dark despair that comes with life. But no matter how hard I try to pull it out of the bond for her, there’s just more, and it’s heart-wrenching. I remember the grief book and how sorrow at first is an inescapable pit.
Just so long as it isn’t a permanent visit, my wolf warns.
The staff brought up the bags from the car, and I know it’s behind-the-scenes meddling that either Lauren or my siblings were involved in. So when Henri seems content in our hug, I step back and go to the dresser. The pill bottle is right on top of it, and bottles of water are stocked in a mini fridge that I didn’t have before.
Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, I bring them to her.
Henri swallows the pill and nearly drinks the entire bottle of water. I set it on the nightstand and tuck her into bed.
“Stay?” She hesitates to ask the question.
“I wouldn’t dare leave.” I give her a soft smile, glad that I took care of the problem so I could be here when she’s awake.