Deacon snorted in a half laugh. “Believe me, no part of me feels bad. Well, I’m just glad you’re safe.”
“Is there something here? Or am I going crazy?”
He froze in the wake of her question. She’d turn the conversation with such purpose, it almost knocked him over.
“What?”
Is there something here? Yes! God, yes, he thought.
Words almost poured from his lips - Yes, do you really need to ask? I’m in love with you!
He didn’t say a single one of these words.
“I’ve been having – I’ve had -” She paused, fidgeting by the kitchen counter. “I’ve been thinking about you – a lot. And I don’t know what to do with these feelings.”
He moved toward her, his hand out to her. “I’ve been thinking about you, too.”
She stopped him, shaking her head. “You say that, but – I mean you just now got back from picking up your stuff from another woman’s house -”
“So what?”
“So? How do I know it’s me you’re thinking about instead of just trying not to think about her?”
“Maggie, I cared for Carissa very much, but I – God, I fucking admit it, I never felt for her the way I do about you.”
She stared at him a moment. “How can you be sure?”
“How can I be -?” He stopped a moment, searching, then threw up his hands in sarcastic exasperation. “Well, I don’t know. She tried to fuck me this morning.”
“What?!”
Maggie’s tone had gone someplace dark. He paused, letting himself smile in response. Seeing her jealous like that somehow made him feel good, made him feel claimed. He liked it.
“She did. Tried a ‘one last time for the road’ break up sex kind of thing. I said no. Said no because even though I was pretty sure you were never going to speak to me again, I couldn’t imagine touching anyone else.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m fucking not, Maggie. Jesus, why are you even here if you won’t believe me?”
“I don’t know!”
“If you didn’t think I wanted you here – if you didn’t know full well that I’ve been head over heels for you since the first time I laid eyes on you, then why are you fucking here?”
Maggie clenched her fists. “Because I couldn’t stay away.”
He deflated for an instant. “Then what’s the problem?”
She threw up her hands. “Because I’m afraid you’re going to regret this!”
“What?”
“If we get involved – if we actually do let something happen. I’m afraid you’ll come to regret it someday.”
He stared at her. “How can you say that?”
“What if we do this? What if we dive in and just fall – what if we fall in love with one another?”
“You think I’ll regret falling in love with you? Why? Are you going to break my heart?”
“Never.”
“Then what the fuck are you talking about?”
She turned her eyes to the floor, fighting to keep her lip from trembling. “I can’t give you what you want.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
She exhaled, her breath shaking as she did. “I’ve never wished I was just normal more than I have since I met you.”
“Why?”
“Because if I was normal, at least there would be some chance that I could give you what you want – there’d be a chance our children would be like you.”
Deacon’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s not -”
“But with me as I am – if you fall in love with me, you’ll never get to have that. If I let this happen, I could be taking that from you forever, and I don’t want to do that to you!”
“I wasn’t the one with that want.”
“You say that now, but years from now – what if you regret it? What if this is all just some rebound bull shit and months down the line – or worse, years - you look at me or at our kids and you think -” She stopped, unable to keep going as she fought to still her tears. Realization struck him suddenly and he ached to go to her. She feared he’d look at their children the way her mother once looked at her. His heart broke so swiftly, it almost took his breath away.
He paused, unable to stay away from her any longer. He took another step toward her. “Maggie, you are what I want. You and everything that comes with you.”
Maggie stared at him. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. You’re just coming out of a relationship. You could be wounded and rebounding on me, and I could get so hurt -” Her voice cracked and it felt brutal to hear. “If you say you want me, I have to know you mean it.”
“Oh, I mean it. I’m head over heels, Mag. Honestly, it scares the shit out of me.”
“It scares me, too.”
He stopped, saddened. “Well, I don’t mean to scare you -”
“That’s not what I meant!”
She stepped forward, her voice wavering as she spoke, and she took hold of his face in her hands and kissed him. His insides ruptured like some volcanic event. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him and squeezing so tight, she groaned. He didn’t stop. Somehow in that instant of touch, the two weeks he’d spent away from her felt like an eternity, and this kiss felt like the reprieve of a pardoned man. He pulled her against him, fighting to be as close as he could, and press himself to every inch of her, as though they might become one thing.
She broke from the kiss just enough to look at him. “Tell me you’re sure this is what you want. Tell me you’re ready and I’ll believe you.”
Ready. Ready to feel what he felt. Ready to give himself to a woman without fear of disappointment, of feeling unloved in a week, a month, a year.
He looked into Maggie’s eyes and ached to say the thing that was roaring in his chest – he was sure, and he’d never been so sure of anything in his life.
“I’m ready, Maggie. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life -” He froze, realizing that despite his stoic nature, he’d blurted out more truth than he’d intended. He swallowed. He felt almost freed by it. “I’m yours if you’ll have me.”
She smiled, her eyes welling over as she wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting herself to kiss him. He lifted her into his arms, pulling her legs around him to carry her down the hall and into the bedroom.
She pulled from him, making him set her back down. Deacon stopped and watched her expression. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “Nothing, but -” She turned, glancing around the house as though the entire place might be watching them. She pulled away from him, coming to stand just inches away. “Will you – can we go slow?”
He exhaled, half disappointed. He took a deep breath. “Of course, if you’d rather we not -”
“No, no. I want you to shag my freakin brains out, but just - everything else.”
He laughed, nodding. “What do you mean? Like I take you out to dinner and shit like that?”
“Yeah, and shit like that.”
Deacon grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in again. “You know, we were as good as engaged just a couple weeks ago.”
A smiled cracked across her stoic face. “It’s true. Forgive me if I’d like to maybe get to know you a little better.”
He feigned an impatient groan. “God, fine,” he said and snatched her up again, carrying her toward the bedroom. “So, where would you like to go after I shag you?”
“I couldn’t care less.”
He laughed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of her jaw as he swung her around, using her feet to slam his bedroom door behind them.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Their host himself smelled like Christmas. Maggie shook the tall man’s hand, offering up a warm smile as he held the door to his home open for them to enter. Maggie’s stomach was in knots, despite having already met everyone present.
Still, knowing everyone was all well and good, but sitting down to a Christmas dinner with them all was something ve
ry different.
“Hey Deac, you know where the coats go,” Kirk Fenn said, giving his cousin a hearty hug and a pat on the shoulder. Deacon took Maggie’s coat and disappeared around the corner through the kitchen. Maggie stood in the front doorway taking in the house.
Kirk Fenn was Deacon’s oldest cousin, and he’d suffered the loss of his home less than a year earlier to a fire. Maggie remembered seeing it on the news – some lunatic set fire to the house, killing himself in the process. She now stood in awe of the home that was built in its place. The entre house was open, floor to ceiling windows offering a full view of the Atlantic Ocean and craggy coast outside. In the middle of the front room stood a ten foot tall Christmas tree, classic Frank Sinatra Christmas Carols crooning from a stereo in the corner. The house smelled of fir tree, spiced apple cider stewing away on the stove, and a roast pork loin in the oven.
Maggie almost forgot to breathe.
“Hey, sweetie. Come on in.”
Deacon reappeared by the door, taking her hand to lead her into the house. The Christmas tree offered a white, golden glow throughout the room, coupled by lights high overhead. Deacon’s entire family was already there – his mom was busy in the kitchen with John’s wife Catherine, and Kirk. John, Gracie and Bennett were slumped onto one couch, and Kirk’s girlfriend, Josephine Dalton, was curled up into a recliner, a tiny, struggling little bundle pressed to her breast. Though Deacon’s grandfather was standing with the rest of the men in the family, he kept darting his eyes over toward Joe.
Maggie let Deacon lead her toward the couches to join everyone. Deacon made quick work of introducing her to Catherine’s mother, Linda, and her grandfather, Hank Calhoun, both of whom sat curled onto a couch, sipping beers and enjoying conversation. Maggie heard their names an stopped a moment, recognizing who they – who Bennett was. She wanted to shake his hand, offer him her gratitude and respect for killing the man that killed her sister. Still, she thought now wasn’t exactly the best time.
Joe settled herself, lifting the baby up as she called to Patrick. “Alright, Grampy. Come on down.”
Patrick dropped his conversation with Deacon’s father and plowed across the room toward Josephine. Joe held the tiny bundle up to the older man, and he took it with such gentle care that Maggie almost teared up to see it. Patrick collected the baby in his arms and began to march around the room, his beard bouncing as he talked to her in exaggerated tones.
“She’s running hot, still?” Patrick asked, touching a hand to the baby’s forehead.
Joe nodded. “She is.”
“Have the doctors decided what’s wrong with her?” Gracie asked, her leg slung over Bennett’s knee.
Joe smiled, watching Patrick bounce her new daughter as he paced by. “Yeah, they’ve decided it’s not a fever; she just runs a little hotter than most kids.”
Maggie shot an intent look to Patrick, and watched his expression change.
He stared into the face of the tiny baby, his wide smile visible beneath his bushy beard. “Is that so? Is that so?” He asked, his voice lilting in a sing song.
Maggie could see the elation in the old man’s face. His infant great-grandchild was a furnace – just like the rest of the shifters in her family. Though they wouldn’t know for sure until she was of age, it was clear baby Patricia was showing early signs of being a shifter.
Patrick may have gotten his baby bear, after all.
“Can I open a present, tonight?”
Joe turned toward the Christmas tree where her daughter, Rory, sat inspecting the gifts. Kirk’s father, Terry, was sitting on the floor beside her, happily shaking gifts with her.
“I already told you; we’ll open some tonight, but not all,” Joe said.
Rory snatched one of the gifts up. “Can I open one now?”
Joe began to reprimand her daughter, but Maggie’s attention was grabbed by John. Deacon’s brother appeared beside them, tugging Deacon’s shoulder, requesting his company outside.
“You be alright? I’ll just be a minute?” Deacon asked.
Maggie nodded, settling into that corner of the couch to watch the goings on around her.
This was unlike anything she’d ever known before. Her family didn’t celebrate Christmas like this, but more importantly, they didn’t celebrate each other like this. Her father spent Christmas Eve curled up in his recliner watching the news. Though the Talbot family was changing – rearranging to make room for new leadership, new reconnections – it still wasn’t a warm and fuzzy bunch. Even the return of her mother didn’t inspire a festive mood among her branch of the Talbots. It would take time to consider Karen a mother again. No one could fault Maggie for that.
“Alright, Gramps! Quit being stingy and give up that baby!” Catherine said, coming across the room with her hands outstretched.
Patrick’s brow furrowed, but he handed the bundle over. Maggie watched Catherine gush as she stared down into baby Patricia’s perfect little face.
Maggie found herself in the middle of half a dozen conversations, and didn’t see herself joining any of them, not because she couldn’t, or because she didn’t feel welcome, but because the idea of the whole affair felt foreign. She hopped up from the couch, making her way back through the kitchen to look for Deacon.
“Holy shit, brother! Holy shit!”
Maggie stopped at the corner of the hallway, listening to the conversation going on just ahead.
“I wanted you to be the first one to know.”
“Are you shitting me? This is awesome! This is amazing! Fuck yeah, man!” Deacon sounded as though he’d just won the lottery. Maggie wondered what news might make him sound so happy.
John seemed to be picking up on it, too. “What’s up with you, spaz?”
“Nothing. I’m just – I’m just excited for you.”
There was a long pause before John spoke again. “Mom told you we were having trouble didn’t she?”
Deacon exhaled. “Yeah.”
Maggie instantly understood. Deacon’s brother and his wife were trying to get pregnant and having trouble. John had told his mother about their frustrations, but despite the closeness between the two brothers, he hadn’t said anything to Deacon.
“I think he’s afraid I’ll blame myself,” Deacon said when he told her about his worries. “He’s right. I will.”
Deacon feared that Catherine Calhoun Fenn’s troubles with infertility stemmed from a gunshot wound she suffered when she threw herself in the path of a bullet intended for Deacon.
“I just wish you’d told me, man. I could’ve been there for you,” Deacon said, his voice almost a whisper.
“Well, I didn’t want you to worry. I fucking know you. You’d beat yourself up over it, and we don’t even know if that had anything to do with it.”
“Yeah, well – if it did -”
“If it did, what? What, Deac? If I had a choice between having kids and my brother being dead, what do you think I’d choose?”
Maggie leaned around the corner, letting them see her.
Deacon shook his head. “That’s not the point.”
“It fucking is the point! There are other ways to have kids if we had to. As far as I know, bringing people back from the dead is still not possible. Hey Mag.”
Maggie gave a sheepish wave, coming up behind Deacon and wrapping her arms around him. Though he was fighting hard to hide it, he was getting emotional. Maggie glanced over his shoulder to the small piece of paper in his hands – an ultrasound picture.
“Catherine must be ecstatic,” Maggie said, smiling.
John scratched the back of his neck. “You have no idea. Was planning on giving this to Gramps tonight.”
Maggie took the picture from Deacon, having a closer look. She smiled. “You don’t think he already knows? Can’t he smell it on her?”
John shook his head. “Everyone thinks it’s rubbing off from Josephine. Now all anybody can smell is baby. Pretty sure it’ll be news. Merry fucking Christmas, old man.”
Deacon chuckled softly, and reached down to squeeze her hand.
Deacon had honored Maggie’s request, dating her as opposed to announcing her as his mate the way he had during the Kalmud. Yet, even with their frequent dinner dates, and the trips down to Ellsworth for the movies, Maggie slept at Deacon’s house much of the time. They’d even discussed moving in together, despite Maggie’s adamant request that they go slow. She was learning very quickly that going slow was almost impossible when you were that sure.
“He’s gonna love that,” Deacon said finally, handing the tiny ultrasound picture back.
John nodded. “He fucking better.”
“Hey, guys?”
They turned to find Bennett Calhoun slipping around the corner, his shoulders hunched just so. He slipped up to join them, glancing over his shoulder with the wariness of a man in hiding.
“What’s up, my man?” John asked, offering his wife’s cousin a hearty handshake.
Bennett nodded, nervously. “What is the likelihood that your grandfather will rip my head off if I ask him permission to ask Gracie to marry me?”
“What?!” Both Fenn brothers exploded, grabbing Bennett and shaking him violently, tussling his hair and smacking his back with such rough affection, Bennett almost fell over twice.
Maggie stepped aside, laughing.
“You sex fiend! Are you fucking kidding?” John asked, shaking him one final time. “Gracie? For real? God damn, that’s awesome man. You’ll be family twice over.”
Bennett gave a wary shrug. “Or he’ll say ‘no, fuck you. I don’t want my great grandbabies fathered by the son of a murderer.’”
They froze for just an instant.
“Naw, fuck that. He’ll be happy for Gracie. He’s changed quite a bit the past few years,” John said, slapping Bennett on the shoulder.
“And you are also the guy who shot the murderer in the face, so -”
Bennett pursed his lips, a wary look on his face.
John shook him one final time. “Tell ya what. I’ll tell him my news first, then you can ask. Guy won’t know what hit him -”
John was halfway through his sentence when the doorbell to the house rang. The two Fenn brothers rushed down the hall, but Maggie took a moment, touching Bennett Calhoun on the shoulder.
The Bears of Blackrock, Books 1 - 3: The Fenn Clan Page 42
