Over the next several hours, I tended to Ansel’s sourdough bread as half of Moose Lake filtered through my apartment.
I didn’t know who invited them, how they knew to come, or how they knew when to stop coming, but by four, it was over.
The only ones left were Maggie and Baxter, Maxine and Miller, John and Vera, Eric and Julie.
And they didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon.
I’d strived to keep my safe space free from others, never inviting anyone over, avoiding anyone coming inside.
But they were here.
And it was as safe as ever.
Maybe safer.
“Thank you,” I choked out.
“Of course,” came at me from all sides while Baxter, Maggie, Miller, and Maxine looked at me with understanding.
They knew where I’d come from.
They knew how far I’d traveled.
They knew me.
And they were still here.
Despite the glaringly obvious fact that Deacon was missing, I had a family here in Moose Lake.
It was time I started acting like it.
A knock sounded on the door one second before it opened.
I lifted my head in time to see Deacon barrel through the kitchen, his face thunderous.His gaze swept over the faces before him until it landed on mine.
I tried to smile but the corners of my mouth plunged down alarmingly fast.
Dipping his head like a bull, he stalked forward and swept me up in his arms.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his throat.
His big hand came up to cup the back of my head.“Jenny,” he whispered.“Baby.”
My body convulsed with the sobs I wouldn’t allow free.
Hefting me up, he urged my legs around his waist and walked back to the front door.“Let it out,” he growled.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was okay but couldn’t get the word past my throat.I couldn’t get anything past my throat.
I tried to suck in a breath, but my lungs were already full.
I exhaled, and like a dam broken, my grief rushed out with a strangled cry, the sound so guttural and raw it scared me.
My body went rigid.I sucked in a shuddering breath, my eyes wild as I looked around, relieved to see he’d taken me away from everyone else.A harsh sob breached my lips.I gulped; swallowing the pain, stemming the noise.
“Don’t, baby,” he urged, rubbing a slow circle over my back.“It’s okay to cry.”
“Deacon,” I gasped, then whined as a long, slow-building wail climbed up from so deep inside me I didn’t know where it began, and I was afraid it would never end.