Page 5 of Deacon

It’s winter, I’m twenty-two years old, and Aiden sold every acre of his land to a developer from California. He’s loaded from it. It happened all up and down our valley. The developers came in and wrote a check—more money than any of us ever dreamed of. Now, our land is being logged and leveled.

Aiden sold my home, my soft green hills.

Which is why I’m standing outside Bittern’s truck in the middle of rural Montana, staring up at the nicest house I’ve ever seen, a hundred times nicer than the farmhouse we grew up in. In one hand, I have my purse. The other sits on my insect collection cases on the floor of the passenger seat.

There’s a row of brand-new trucks in the drive, the kind that costs fifty thousand a pop.

Bittern circles the truck, my suitcase in hand. We stayed back while Ryland and Aiden went ahead to develop the acreage. It was the most peaceful time of our lives. Aiden never worked well with Bittern, so I doubt he noticed his absence. I know my absence in the last six months has probably been a relief.

I’m glad he stayed. I’d hate to have to face Aiden alone.

Bittern wasn’t exactly present growing up, but he was the buffer who kept Aiden from dumping me when I was nothing but a birdlike child. Even after the accident in the mine, when Aiden got too violent, he’d rouse himself. Not to hit back, but to shove me outside to keep me from getting decked by a flying plate.

“All good?” Bittern asks.

The front door slams before I can answer. We both look up.

Aiden stands at the edge of the steps. He’s in different clothes, the blue-collar working kind, but nicer than I’ve ever seen. His steel-toe boots are new, his shirt collar not eaten up by sweat yet.

My stomach has a pit in it. If anything, getting money has made Aiden more of a threat to me. Now, he’s got a superiority complex and a plan to keep his bank account growing via a fresh start in Montana.

Who knew Aiden had it in him to make good business choices?

Aiden looks at me. He’s got that stare, the washed-out one that comes from years of desperation. A chill goes down my spine.

“You make it here alright?” he says to Bittern.

“Yeah. Long haul, but we’re good,” Bittern says, eyes down.

Aiden jerks his head. “Bring her shit in.”

Bittern reaches past me for my collection. My stomach flips as he pulls it out. Aiden goes to the door and takes a dolly from inside, dragging it down the steps. My fists clench as he picks up my cases. They’re all wrapped up in sheets. He doesn’t know they’re my insects, but luckily, he sets them down without slamming them.

Aiden hates it when I have things that make me happy. I do my best so he never sees my insects. Because if he does, the next time he wants to hurt me, he’ll go right for them.

My heart flutters as he hauls them into the front doorway and sets them down. Breath caught, I walk into a house that looks like it’s right out of a magazine. Only, it’s mostly empty. I wonder if Aiden is going to order furniture; it’s over an hour to the city as far as I know.

Bittern skirts around me. “Come on upstairs.”

Silently, I go with him, pulling the dolly behind me. I’m surprised to see the upper floor is furnished. All the rooms are set up, all eight of them, with beds and a dresser and a rug. I stand there in awe.

“You can pick whatever room you like,” says Bittern. “At least the ones that aren’t occupied.”

Right away, I know which room I want. At the end of the hall is a door on the left side. I pick up my bag and float down to it, pushing the door open. Inside is a twin bed and a desk by the window.There’s no dresser, but there is a closet and a bathroom. Distantly, I hear Bittern’s boots ring out as he joins me.

“I want this one,” I whisper.

“Good choice,” he says, putting my bags on the ground.

Bittern disappears, and I go to the window and pull the curtain aside. My stomach is a cold knot. Outside is a barren, desolate landscape, with low hills for miles, flat gray-green land, inky mountains in the distance.

Another set of boots sound on the stairs, not Bittern’s. I know everyone by the timbre of their steps. I turn, tucking my hands to my sides. Aiden comes back with the dolly I left at the bottom of the stairs. He locks it with his boot and shifts the boxes off.

I glance up, and he stares back at me, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to find something to pick at. Aiden is like a name-brand version of himself, but I know he’s just as mean as ever inside.

“I’m going out,” Aiden says. “I’ll be back late. Bittern and Ryland are going with me. Leave dinner in the microwave.”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

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