Page 60 of Beautiful Rush
“And he shows up looking like a sight for sore eyes,” Cal said gruffly, shaking his head, but he was just teasing. Cal was a nice guy and had immediately put me at ease. I had already witnessed the easy relationship Deacon had with both of his parents. Like Deacon had said, you can’t choose your parents, but the Ramsey’s had chosen to be Deacon and Abby’s parents and had raised them with love.
“I bet you didn’t even put an ice pack on that eye,” his mom said.
Deacon squeezed my hand under the table. “Keira kissed it better.”
Yeah, right. The story was that he’d gotten the bruises in a boxing match. Everyone accepted that explanation. Apparently, Deacon used to do a lot of boxing when he was younger.
He glanced at the red peppers, mushrooms and two pieces of steak on my paper plate and groaned like it was truly painful. “You need to finish your food, Buttercup.”
Buttercup. Lol. Abby had understood the reference immediately and had agreed that Buttercup was a badass. I wasn’t completely sold on it.
“I can’t eat another bite. Everything was delicious,” I told Faye.
“I’m glad you liked it.” She gave me a genuine smile. I didn’t think she was capable of being anything less than genuine. She was kind and warm and had welcomed me with open arms, hugging me the minute we were introduced and insisting that I sit down and relax. She’d poured me a glass of sun tea that she’d brewed on the back deck. Sweetened with honey and garnished with fresh mint and lemon. It was delicious.
“You don’t have to finish that, honey,” Faye said. “I’ll wrap it up for later.”
She whisked it away, saving Deacon from having to eat food he wasn’t hungry for.
Abby, Faye, and I cleared the table and carried the serving dishes into the kitchen. Like the rest of the cabin, it was simple and rustic, with an old oak farm table in the middle, dark green-painted cupboards and a white porcelain farmhouse sink. A bunch of wildflowers in a ball jar sat on the windowsill. The view from every window in this house was green and now I knew why it was Deacon’s favorite color. He associated it with his grandfather’s cabin, with this cozy house in the woods that felt like a home.
Abby went back outside to hang out with her dad and brother, but I stayed to help Faye clean up and stow the leftovers in Tupperware containers since I hadn’t done anything to help with the lunch preparation.
“It’s a good thing Deacon works out,” Faye said with a chuckle. “He’d be big as a house.”
I smiled. “I know. I guess he’s always been like that, feeling like he can’t waste food?”
She carried the empty serving dishes to the sink and filled it with soapy water. “Not always. When he first came to live with us, we couldn’t get him to eat. He was overwhelmed by having so much choice. It was too much for him, so he denied himself, even though he was hungry.”
It was hard to reconcile the man he’d become with the little boy who was overwhelmed by food. I heard Deacon, Abby, and Cal laughing outside. He was happy here, relaxed in the company of his family.
“How did you get him to eat?” I asked, drying the serving dishes with a dishtowel and stacking them on the counter for Faye to put away.
“Instead of setting out all the food on the table, we made him a plate with small portions. But it wasn’t really about the food. When he eventually realized that we weren’t going to abandon him, he started eating.”
Deacon had a fear of abandonment and I had tried to run away from him.
We finished clearing up the dishes and stowed the leftovers in the fridge. “You can eat them tomorrow,” Faye said, closing the refrigerator door. There was enough food in there to feed an army. “It’s so good to see him. Such a lovely surprise. And wonderful to meet you.” Faye beamed at me. When she smiled, it reached her eyes, the laugh lines around her eyes crinkling. She was the opposite of my mother in every way.
Her red hair was naturally curly, and she wore it in a messy bun, a few curls springing free. Her skin was pale and freckled, and she had a wide mouth and a ready smile. I would guess she was in her mid to late fifties, thin but not skinny. She was wearing yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt that said Namaste, and no makeup. Faye Ramsey was comfortable in her own skin. She didn’t need Botox or anti-aging beauty treatments or expensive designer clothes to make herself feel beautiful. Her beauty came from the inside. It was the kind of beauty that wouldn’t fade over time.Truebeauty.
She tipped her head to the side. “I can tell that you make him happy. That’s what I’ve always wanted for my children. Just to see them happy and finding their place in the world.”
“I don’t make him happy all the time.”
Faye laughed. “Well, that’s not possible. I hope he treats you right.”
“He does. He’s good to me.”
She nodded, looking pleased about that. “We’re so proud of him. Mind you, he was hell on wheels when he was a teenager, but I knew he’d outgrow it. Cal wasn’t so convinced. He was ready to ship Deacon off to military school.” She laughed. “Luckily, my dad took him under his wing. He gave tough love, but Deacon respected him. He was just about the only adult he listened to when he was in high school.” She smiled at the memory. “Are you close with your family?”
“I…” I let out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
Faye studied my face for a few seconds, and I wondered how much Deacon had told her. “Most families are, honey.”
“I’m close with my brothers though. They’re good guys.”
The back door opened, and I looked over my shoulder as Deacon sauntered in. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and nuzzled my neck. I tried to swat him away, embarrassed by the PDA in front of his mom. “Deacon…”
