Page 176 of Deacon

“No,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You shouldn’t have. Nobody should worry about shit like that.”

“But it happens,” I whisper.

He’s quiet for a moment. “The world is a hard place. Darkness comes in through the cracks.”

For Deacon, he’s being surprisingly eloquent. I push myself up on my elbow, pressing close so I can drape my leg over his waist. He’s so handsome, with big, dark eyes, a crooked nose, a clean-cut mouth.

“I don’t hate him,” I say. “It’s just sad.”

“Yeah, some things are just sad,” he says.

I know he doesn’t feel the same way, but it’s different for him. I know how hard life was for Aiden and my brothers. We shared that hardship for years. Deacon saw him as a threat to me and nothing more.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I forgive Aiden now that I understand his past.

But I’m not sorry he’s dead.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

FREYA

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

It’s the middle of the afternoon in early summer. The windows are open, the breeze fluttering them. I’m on my side of the couch, a pillow under my stomach and between my knees. It helps, but I’m still panting, laying perfectly still.

“You want some water?”

I lift my head. Ginny comes out of the kitchen, a glass in her hand. Slowly, I ease myself up and shift back against the couch. I’m supposed to keep my legs elevated, but it compresses my lower stomach. I’m carrying low, and my stomach hasn’t stretched a lot, which means my lungs are getting crushed.

“Thank you,” I manage.

She sets it down and goes to look out over the driveway. “You want to take a nap?”

I shake my head. “I want to see them.”

Today is a day I’ve waited for for months. Bittern is getting out of rehab today. Clean. Heavily pregnant or not, I’m going to be out on the porch waiting for him.

I get up with difficulty and join Ginny by the window. As if on cue, Deacon’s truck appears over the hill. He parks, and I’m out the door as fast as I can go. Bittern steps out onto the gravel at the same time as the back door swings open. A sob erupts from my throat, and I clap a hand over my mouth.

He’s standing tall, his head down but his eyes up. He’s put on a little weight, and it looks good on him, filling out the shoulders of his shirt. Somebody gave him a good haircut and trimmed his beard short. He stops and looks at me. Then, he shakes his head.

“Hey, Frey,” he says.

Tears pour out. I can’t stop them.

“Hey, Bittern,” I whisper.

He comes up the drive, walking in that easy way I haven’t seen since before the mines. I’m speechless as he takes me in his arms, pulling me close. He smells good, like soap and nice clothes. I close my eyes and press my wet face into his shoulder.

This is all I wanted. Clean, happy Bittern.

He pulls back and looks down. “Well, looks like you were pregnant, huh?”

I laugh, wiping my face. “Yeah, I’m due in a few weeks.”

“What is it?”

I shrug. “We decided not to find out. Deacon is dead set on thinking it’s a boy, but I’m pretty sure it’s a girl.”

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