In Safe Hands

by Victoria Sue

  She swept out, and Deacon gave a sleeping Molly a last kiss before he left the room with Maverick in tow. Mav didn’t like leaving Deacon to battle the old cow on his own. Nothing she had said so far gave him any impression Anne was a warm and loving person.

  But then, if she had been, Deacon’s childhood might have been very different. Mav got to the bottom of the stairs a little after Deacon and Anne and looked at Deacon’s face.

  “I’ll wait in the truck.”

  Deacon nodded, but he appeared miserable. Every step Maverick took toward the door seemed to hurt more than usual.

  Chapter Six

  DEACON FOLLOWED his mom when he would far rather have gone with Maverick. She smoothed her pants and sat on the edge of the couch. “I don’t want Molly’s routine disturbed anymore, so I expect routine visits to be as per the court stipulated.”

  Wow. “The court stipulated that as part of her routine, she is to have a visit with me every Thursday for two hours, but that doesn’t mean we can’t meet somewhere else. In fact the court never stipulated a place. Perhaps Rachel could bring her if you don’t want to, or if you would rather I didn’t come here?” He tried to keep his voice even. He tried to keep calm. He tried to not have it really fucking hurt.

  His mom stared at him for a few seconds. “Don’t think that Rachel can be easily manipulated.”

  Deacon blew out his anger on a long exhale. Losing his temper wasn’t going to help anyone. “I’m not sure what I ever did to give you such a bad impression of me. You should have known the things they said in court were untrue.”

  She arched a manicured brow. “Why should I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know….” Deacon pretended to consider. “How about the eighteen years I lived with you? How about my immaculate behavior for all of it? How about the perfect school grades?”

  Anne leaped to her feet. “Get out.”

  “Why, Mom? Truth hard to swallow?” Deacon knew he had blown it, but the words just kept tumbling out.

  “It was all your fault,” she hissed, the veins standing out in her neck.

  “What was my fault?” Deacon said. “I spent the years after Mikey left keeping as much out of the way as possible, and the second I could, I left.”

  “Exactly,” she screeched, and Deacon heard a door open from the corridor. “If you hadn’t been so bookish, your dad would have been much better. He tried so hard with you, but you’d never so much as kick a football. It was no wonder he got so frustrated.”

  Comprehension floored Deacon. “Are you really trying to blame Dad’s behavior on me?” He couldn’t have heard properly. She couldn’t possibly—

  “Of course it was your fault,” she nearly screamed and took a step closer, just as the living room door opened and the housekeeper hovered. “You were the child I promised to make up for him taking in Michael. You were supposed to be a son he could be proud of, not some weak, pathetic thing that wouldn’t even look him in the face.”

  “Mrs. Fellhouse?” the housekeeper tried to intervene.

  “Get out,” Anne nearly snarled at the poor woman, who backed away quickly.

  “Do you know what he used to say to me? Do you?” She was in his face now. He should move, but horror froze him to the spot. “That I might as well have had a girl because you acted like one. At least I could have put you in a dress,” she spat, her thin pretense at civility completely gone.

  Deacon heard the door open again but couldn’t tear his eyes from the disgust on her face that she didn’t bother to hide. “You never complained about me being weak the number of times I stood in front of you when Dad raised his hand. You should have been standing in front of me. I was a child.”

  Deacon saw her raise her own hand then and had a second to flinch, but instead of pain and the harsh memory of flesh meeting flesh, there was only silence.

  He didn’t seem able to breathe, but when he opened his eyes, his mom was standing there looking as horrified as Deacon felt, and Maverick had his fingers wrapped around her wrist, preventing her from slapping Deacon.

  Deacon found his feet and stepped back out of the way. Maverick let go of her wrist.

  “How dare you?” she shrieked. “I will have you arrested for assault. I will—”

  “Shut up and listen to me,” Maverick interrupted. “I work in security with access to the latest electronics. We always have to protect ourselves from being accused of rough handling a bail jumper or beating on any other lowlife we happen to meet. Do you really think I would be so unprepared I wouldn’t be wearing a body camera?”

  Deacon gaped at Maverick. A body camera? Then before he had the chance to even think of a response to his mom or even if he’d want to make one, Maverick took him gently by the arm and steered him toward the door. Maverick paused just before they exited the room.

  “My client will let you know the meeting place of his choosing for next Thursday as per the court terms stipulated. Should you get any ideas about Molly not being there, we will have no choice but to return to the court with the images and recording I now have. You have fueled untrue speculation to your own ends, and that stops now. I am ex-military with a spotless reputation. My sister, who runs the company, was a cop for eighteen years and knows a lot of people both on the force and in the justice system. You made the mistake of steamrolling your son at a vulnerable time in his life.” Maverick paused. “He is not on his own any longer, and he is not without friends. Should you wish to be difficult, the first thing his new attorney would do is petition for the release of your medical records.”

  Deacon watched the barb find its mark, and his mom went white. Maverick turned without another word, and Deacon let himself be led outside and into the truck.

  “Are you okay to drive?” Maverick asked, concern threading his words.

  Deacon nodded and got in almost on autopilot. He waited until Maverick did the same, then set off. The gates opened automatically as they approached them. Thoughts, words, images were all swirling around his head. His heart squeezed in the vise she had tightened until he struggled to breathe.

  “Pull over here,” Maverick urged, and through the fog, Deacon saw where he could stop. I need air. He couldn’t breathe, and he scrambled, hands shaking, to get out.

  He tried to take a breath. And another. He whimpered as blackness encroached at the edges of his vision. So cold. He couldn’t seem to inflate his lungs… and then, hard strong arms pulled him back into warmth and safety.

  “Breathe,” Maverick ordered, warm air tickling his ear. “Breathe,” he repeated. And Deacon did. He gasped and shuddered in relief as his vision cleared, and he took another breath. “Slowly now, that’s it.” Maverick’s calm voice soothed him, and he sagged back against the hard body that was effortlessly holding him. “C’mere.” The slight hint of frustration was obvious in Maverick’s voice as he gently turned Deacon around and wrapped him up in the strongest, safest arms Deacon could ever remember being held in.

  He closed his eyes and clung on.

  In a few seconds, he was breathing normally, but he still didn’t move. He should, he supposed, but then Maverick made the decision for him. “Hey,” he said unoriginally.

  Deacon inhaled the smell of… something wonderful—Maverick—to keep him going, because he doubted he would get another chance, and he looked up into warm brown eyes. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Maverick must’ve been psychic, because he shook his head, then thumbed the wetness from Deacon’s cheeks, and Deacon couldn’t help leaning against the rough skin of Mav’s hand. For a second, Maverick cradled his face. He was crying? He didn’t even know. Then the familiar tightness grew in his throat, and he swallowed forcibly.

  “I didn’t know,” he finally got out. “I never knew.” He rested his forehead against Mav’s chest. Mav was tall. He’d never thought about just how damn big he was.

  “What your mom said?”

  “Mmm.” Another few seconds passed. He raised his head again and took a breath, then stepped back. Mav
erick let him go, and Deacon immediately missed him.

  He swiped at his eyes. “I never cry.” And he didn’t. All through the court case. When he found out about Mikey’s death. When they lost the contracts and the money. “Not once. Only when they took Molly,” he added.

  “I don’t blame you,” Mav said.

  “I owe him so much,” Deacon whispered.

  “Do you mean Michael?”

  Deacon nodded.

  “Do you want an ice cream?”

  Deacon blinked stupidly at the completely random question, and then he followed Mav’s gaze and saw the small row of stores across the road. There was a liquor store, a barber’s, and a small café advertising homemade ice cream. Deacon huffed in surprise but straightened his shirt where it had become rucked up, then nodded cautiously. Mav guided him across the empty road, and they walked in.

  A woman looked up and smiled from where she was refilling some pans. “What can I get you?”

  Deacon stared unseeing at the menu. What was he even doing in here? He wanted to go home, except he didn’t have one anymore, and that thought brought on another round of tears. He turned away in case the lady saw him.

  “A slow kiss,” Maverick said clearly.

  “What?” Deacon lifted his head in surprise, convinced he’d misheard. Maverick pointed to the menu board, and sure enough, a Slow Kiss was chocolate mixed with fudge and a brownie. Deacon stood for a few seconds staring at the board. The words came into focus. That actually sounded pretty good. He paused. The ice cream. His gaze ran over the flavors while the lady made Maverick’s, and he decided. “I’ll have a Threesome,” Deacon said, feeling a little silly. Vanilla, butter pecan, and peanut butter. That also sounded amazing. It was like he was having some out-of-body experience. He’d had one of the worst afternoons of his life, and he was standing here making jokes and eating ice cream. He quickly held his hand to his lips because he wasn’t sure whether the next sound out of them would be a laugh or a sob. At the moment, it could go either way.

  He felt the hot breath on his cheek as Maverick leaned forward. “I would never have that,” he said quietly. “I don’t share.”

  Deacon didn’t answer because he couldn’t think of what to say. Maverick could be shooting the breeze. Teasing to make him feel better. He could mean something entirely different from what it sounded like. Deacon didn’t even know if Mav was gay. And Deacon could be hearing what he wanted to hear.

  All of it. Or none of it.

  Maverick paid the lady, and she thanked him, informing them she had to go in the back, but she would hear the bell if the door opened and they were to just holler if they needed anything else. Mav steered him to the table in the far corner. Deacon slid in around the back to give Maverick more room to maneuver.

  “Thank you,” Maverick acknowledged, and Deacon’s icy insides warmed a little.

  “Is your mom still drinking?” Maverick asked, and Deacon’s head shot up in surprise.

  “What?”

  “You mentioned her drinking when she was younger, and I simply don’t understand where all this resentment of you comes from. I mentioned her medical records on a hunch, and her reaction was very telling. She’s definitely got something to hide.”

  Deacon sighed. “She hates me because of the singing.”

  Mav frowned. “Hates you? I would have thought she would be proud of you.”

  Deacon picked up his spoon. “Have you ever heard of The Sammy Gee Band?”

  “Weren’t they something in the seventies? Jamie was into them I think. She may have even gone to a few concerts.” He shrugged.

  Deacon chuckled. “They were a four-piece group. Very famous, and Annie Redding was one of their backing singers.”

  “Oh,” Mav said, suddenly understanding. “That’s what all that about singing songs to Molly was about? Your mom was a singer? I thought she reminded me of something. I’m sure Jamie has still got their old albums.”

  Deacon nodded. “And she was getting noticed. There was talk of a record deal, and then she got pregnant with the drummer’s baby.”

  “Your dad.”

  “No,” Deacon chuckled. “The drummer denied everything, and the record label paid her to go away. She met and married Dad when Mikey was a year old.”

  “Are you saying all this hatred is because your mom is jealous?”

  “She always said music was a waste of time. I wanted to learn an instrument when I was younger, but Mom said it was pointless and did no one any good. It was Pops who explained to me why she resented Mikey. I guess I know now why she hated me as well.”

  “Tell me what he was like.”

  Deacon tilted his head, his brain still trying to catch up. “Mikey? Oh, you mean when he was younger?”

  Maverick nodded.

  “The best brother in the world.” Deacon’s voice caught on the last word, and he took a breath. “He was like a wall.”

  Maverick squinted at him. “Big?”

  “No, not in size. He was only a little taller than me. I mean more like something to protect me, a kind of shield.”

  Mav took another bite of his ice cream and swallowed. “Did he ever tell you what caused the last row between him and your dad?”

  Deacon concentrated on his ice cream because at that moment, he couldn’t speak. After another couple of beats while Maverick waited patiently, he said, “He covered for me when I needed some money.”

  “Go on,” Mav encouraged.

  “There was a talent contest at school. You know, one of those end-of-term things, and I was singing. Except they’d made it a charity thing, and we had to give donations to enter.” He’d been desperate. “Mom said it was a waste of money, but I had to go ask Dad. If I’d left it any longer, I would have been too late, but he was asleep.” Deacon swallowed some more ice cream. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had some. “No one ever woke Dad up or interrupted him when he was asleep. No one dared, and I knew there was no way Mom would. Mikey came home as I was pleading with her to ask. He immediately gave me the ten dollars from his pocket.”

  Mav paused while finishing off his chocolate. “Why would he get into trouble for that?”

  “Because Mikey had to pay rent.”

  “When he was seventeen and at school?” Mav sounded incredulous.

  Deacon nodded. “It started when he was fourteen, which was why he missed so many classes.”

  “If your dad wasn’t already dead….”

  “I didn’t know Mikey had bought himself a cell phone. Only a cheap thing, but with the ten bucks he gave me, he was short for the rent. Mikey knew if he said why, I would be in trouble as well, so he lied and said the phone had cost him more, so he was short.”

  “But your mom said you could ask.”

  “It didn’t matter. He could change his mind instantly, and she didn’t really want me to in the first place. His favorite thing was telling us we could have something, then changing his mind at the last minute.” After a while, they had stopped asking. Deacon really had had enough, and pushed his half-empty dish to Maverick.

  “I’d called at Pops’s after school because it was my night to visit and he would worry if I didn’t show, but then I had to run over to my friend’s house, who was lending me an outfit. We were walking there together, so I never knew all this. I came back as Dad was throwing him out, but it was nearly seven years before I found out why.”

  Deacon brushed a hand on his face again, and it came back wet. “It was all my fault. For a stupid singing competition, I got my brother thrown out of the house.” He raised his eyes to Maverick. “What if it was all my fault? What if had he stayed he would never have done drugs?”

  “It was your dad’s fault, not yours,” Mav said gently. “And from what you told me, there were quite a few years in between. I doubt that had anything to do with it.” But Mav was just saying it to make him feel better.

  “And—” He swallowed. “—he reached out to me as soon as he found out I was in college,
and I ignored him. How could I have done that? After all he did.” Deacon buried his face in his hands. Michael had always protected him. “I thought he’d left me,” he mumbled from behind his hands until he felt Mav’s fingers easing them away from his face and passing him a wad of napkins. “I should have known better.” He would never forgive himself for that.

  “But you saw him before you finished college.”

  Deacon smiled. “You remember I said I had it pointed out to me if I carried on I would be left with no job and no money?”

  “It was Michael?”

  “He rode to the rescue one last time. Intervened with the college for me. Talked to the cops. He was amazing, and I saw him two more times, but the year I graduated, he was in rehab. The year the band was successful was when he got Molly, and all I got were emails telling me he was working and doing okay. It was such a crazy year, I never checked.” Deacon put his head in his hands and took a breath. He would never forgive himself, never. “I didn’t see him again, and then the police contacted me about Molly.”

  He looked around the small store. They sold coffees as well. It would be nice to bring Molly. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and wiped his nose again. He needed to change the subject. “Do you really have a body camera?”

  “Nope.” Maverick took another bite and swallowed. “But she doesn’t know that.”

  Deacon nodded. Shame, but it was quick thinking.

  Maverick put his spoon down. “I heard her when I came back into the hallway.”

  “How did you know?”

  “The housekeeper came for me. Or at least she opened the door and shot me a look that had me moving as fast as I could. I’m sorry it wasn’t faster.” He briefly squeezed Deacon’s arm.

  The lady came back out behind the counter. “Can I get you gentlemen anything else?”

  Mav stood up and bought two bottles of water. Deacon picked up both dishes and took them to the counter. “Thank you. They were delicious.”

  She beamed, then tilted her head slightly as if she was considering what he said. “Has anyone ever told you, you look like that good-looking boy from Six Sundays?”