Page 65 of Deacon

“What kind?”

I shrug, still holding her tight. “The kind somebody else put there and not even giving out all the kindness in the world could fix.”

“What happened after?” Her voice is as fragile as her gaze.

“Stayed in one of the worst homes I ever got placed in for six months,” I say. “Protective services pulled me from that, and I ended up at a ranch. Those foster parents ended up adopting me.”

“Oh,” she says, a faint smile on her lips. “That’s some kind of happy ending.”

I lean in and kiss her forehead. Her hair smells so good, like vanilla. Like home.

“Yeah,” I say. There’s no way I’m getting any deeper into my past right now. “So, what did you do all day? All alone with yourself like that?”

“I went to school most of the time. But a lot of times, I missed the bus because I had to get breakfast ready and on the table before I could go. Then, there were a few years where the road collapsed and I couldn’t get to the bus stop,” she says. “The school was ten miles from home, so I couldn’t walk. And part of that was highway.”

“So who taught you all the stuff you know, like the bugs and shit?” I ask.

She smiles, rolling her eyes at my words. “I had a library card, and that was only three miles from the house. When I wasn’t there or at school, we had a moonshine still in the tobacco barn.”

I feel my brows lift. “You made moonshine instead of going to school?”

“What about it? I stayed legal,” she says. “Bittern grew weed, but not for very long, because he wasn’t any good at it. But I needed the moonshine so I could trade it for groceries, the things I didn’t want anybody to know about.”

“Like what?”

She blushes, a little. “Pads, bras. Sometimes, I could get those from the nurse at school, but not always.”

The song ends, and she stops swaying. I look into her eyes, clear blue like a pale morning sky. She’s so beautiful. She sees me looking, unable to keep my gaze from her face.

“I should go home,” she whispers. “I don’t think I’m comfortable staying another night. I worry about Aiden coming back early.”

I don’t push her. I had my doubts she’d stay the weekend. Every time I reel her back down from wherever she lives in her head—up in the sky, sitting on the edge of the moon—she feels fragile in my hand.

Like if the winds change, she’ll blow away.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“Don’t apologize,” I say. “I understand.”

We don’t speak on the drive home, but when I drop her at the end of the drive, I tell her I’ll see her soon. She cocks her head at me like she’s going to say something but then shuts the door. For the third time, I watch her disappear over the hill toward her stepfather’s house.

God, I wish she’d just stay.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

FREYA

I can’t stop thinking about how he danced with me in the kitchen.

Yes, the sex is unbelievable, but that dance shook me up.

The house is as tense as it always is under Aiden’s dictatorship. There’s something going on that I don’t know about. Aiden makes Bittern take his land surveying equipment out and work on something from dawn until dusk. That strikes me as strange. Bittern got his surveyor's certification years ago but never did anything with it. Now, all of a sudden, Aiden’s got him putting in for lost time.

I watch them from the corner of my eyes.

Aiden can’t be trusted. If he’s not being outwardly horrible, he’s got something cooking up in his head to be horrible for later.

At least he’s gone a lot. Ryland goes with him, and I see their trucks disappear toward the road that leads up to the McClaine ranch. He has to head west and double back to avoid trespassing on Deacon’s land. I know that grinds his gears. I silently enjoy his annoyance.

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