Page 47 of Deacon (The Sovereign Mountain #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

FREYA

The doctor comes at noon. He checks me over carefully and lets us listen to the baby’s heartbeat. Deacon sits in the chair by the bed, eyes exhausted. When the little thump-thump fills the room, he drops his head. His hand comes up over his face, covering his eyes. I weave my fingers into his, holding tight.

I think Deacon Ryder might be in tears.

My heart breaks, and warmth like starlight spills out. This man is going to be the best father when this baby comes.

He doesn’t want to leave me for a second, but the doctor forces him into the bathroom so he can clean his wound. I hear them arguing through the door. I can’t help but roll my eyes. Even at forty, Deacon still thinks he’s invincible. He’d just as soon spit on his hand, rub the blood off, and say it’s fine.

When they return, Deacon’s wearing a pair of Gerard’s old sweatpants, a bandage just showing over his waistband. The doctor leaves, and Keira comes back upstairs, this time with more food.

“What are your plans?” she asks Deacon.

He sits on the edge of the bed. “I thought we’d head out. I’d like to get back to Ryder Ranch as soon as we can.”

“You can stay as long as you need to,” she says .

“I know. Thank you,” he says, “but I’d like to get Freya home.”

The way he says that word—home—makes me feel like I finally understand what it means. Keira excuses herself, and silence falls as Deacon sinks down onto the chair. I shift to my side, laying my cheek on my arm. Now that the dust has settled, I have questions about what we went through in the past twenty-four hours—and before that.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

“There are some things you did, and I don’t know how to feel about them,” I whisper.

He sinks from the chair to his knees by the bed. His touch skims my cheek, brushing my hair back.

“Are you talking about tapping your phone?”

My brows rise. “No, I didn’t know about that part.”

There’s a short silence.

His jaw works, a crease appearing on his forehead. His dark gaze is soft as ever. Tonight, that softness drives the fear that’s been in my chest for years away. I know he’s psychotic, but with me, he’s so gentle. It heals the damaged parts of my heart.

None of this matters. I’ve made my choice.

“I know there was no accident on the highway,” I whisper. “And I know you’ve been trying to get me pregnant this whole time.”

He doesn’t speak for a second. Then, he clears his throat.

“How does that make you feel?” he asks.

I touch his hand, gripping it. Tonight, he risked everything. He was faced with an impossible situation, a losing battle. Yet, he found a way through and got me safely to Sovereign Mountain, away from the bloodshed. He might be a hurricane, but I was always safe in the eye of it.

“It makes me feel safe,” I manage. “And scared for anybody who makes you their enemy.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. He bends in, kissing my temple. His hands slides down my waist, lingering on my lower belly. I remember all the times he came in me when he should have pulled out .

I can’t totally blame him for this pregnancy. I’m guilty of being just as careless about birth control. I was just too scared of the past to consider the possibility of a family with him.

“Tell me what it looks like,” I whisper.

He shifts onto the bed, stretching out to face me. “Our future?”

I nod. He draws me closer, letting me curl up against his chest. When I turn my head, I can hear his heart thump under my ear.

“It looks like you being happy,” he says. “We have a family. I’ll get you the help you need so that you still have time to do whatever you want. You can collect bugs. Hell, you can go to college and study bugs if you want.”

I laugh. “I’m happy to just collect,” I whisper. “I don’t want my life to be complicated. All I want is peace.”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you get that,” he promises.

My throat is tight with unshed tears. The generations of people who came before me were mired in pain. I thought that avoiding men like Deacon would save me, but I was completely wrong about him. He might look rough, but inside, he’s the purist person I’ve met.

He’s the cycle breaker, the person who steps in and changes everything.

“Let’s sleep for a bit then go home,” I whisper, offering a weak smile.

He clears his throat. “You don’t know what it means to hear you call Ryder Ranch home.”

I don’t answer. Instead, I just close my eyes and reach for his hand.

It feels like a long ride back to Ryder Ranch. Deacon puts me in the passenger seat wrapped in a blanket. He put his old clothes on after Keira took them out of the dryer, and I try not to notice the bloodstains on his shirt. Instead, I focus on his hand wrapped around mine all the way home.

The days that follow are the quietest of my life. Deacon sets up another appointment with a doctor in South Platte, but it’s a few weeks away, so there’s nothing for me to do but try to adjust to everything. Ginny stays at the house with me while Deacon cleans up at the McClaine Ranch. Tracy comes to visit, bringing pastries.

Jay Reed, his lawyer, is at the house a lot. They both seem concerned. Then, there’s silence. Jay probably did something illegal. Now, the weight that’s been hanging over Deacon’s head is gone. He shifts into talking about safeguarding the ranch against future encroachments. Late one night, he floats the idea of offering the remaining McClaine brother a deal for the land. I tell him he should do what he wants. He doesn’t need my permission.

He says he wants my input. I tell him it can’t hurt to have more land to buffer the property. I don’t want what happened to ever happen again.

The snow starts coming a few days later. It blankets Ryder Ranch and turns the gray hills and mountains sparkling white. I try to distract myself with anything. There’s a lot of fabric in the chest upstairs. I find a bolt of pink, dotted cotton and start making a baby blanket with it, fuzzy gray on one side, soft pink on the other.

It keeps my mind off Bittern.

“When can I see him?” I ask.

We’re in the kitchen, having coffee. Ginny says I’m having an easy pregnancy. There’re only fleeting moments of sickness. Mostly, I’m just exhausted. I could wrap myself up in a quilt and sleep until spring.

Deacon just got in from chores. He still has snow melting on his buzzed hair. He did that when I was kidnapped. I asked him why, and he said so he didn’t have to wash the blood from his hair.

Typical Deacon answer.

“Bittern?”

I nod, taking a sip of my mostly-creamer coffee. He reaches for his mug, sinking into his chair.

“He’s already in rehab, sweetheart.”

My heart sinks. “Really? I wanted to say goodbye to him.”

He gives me the softest look and holds out his arm. I sink onto his knee .

“I think Bittern would rather you see him next when he’s clean,” he says. “I spoke with him on the phone.”

That hurts, but I understand. Into my mind comes everything Bittern and I talked about the night I was kidnapped—and the conversation I had with Aiden.

Deacon and I haven’t spoken about either of those things.

Late that night, we’re laying in each other’s arms. I sleep on the side of the bed closest to the window. That way, I can watch the stars come out. Deacon rests against my back, reminding me to stay down here on Earth with an arm around my body.

I don’t long for the stars anymore.

My home is safe. My love is right here, holding me. Slowly, I’m finding that was all I ever wanted.

“Deacon,” I whisper.

He stirs but doesn’t move. His chest is firm, and I lean into his warmth.

“Bittern told me Aiden wasn’t his father,” I manage.

“Told me that too.”

Curious, I roll over. He’s watching me intently, with no expression.

“Aiden said… He said some things to me that made a lot of other things make more sense,” I manage.

“I know,” he says. “I noticed there was something…off with him a while ago. It was why I pulled you from that truck and brought you to Ryder Ranch. Couldn’t put my finger on it, but everything clicked the night he took you.”

I feel my lip tremble.

“You suspected?”

He nods. “You were a frog in a pot of heating water: too hot for too long to realize there was a boiling point. Someone needed to reach in and get you out.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I should have known when Braxton Whitaker disappeared.”

“No,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You shouldn’t have. Nobody should worry about shit like that.”

“But it happens,” I whisper .

He’s quiet for a moment. “The world is a hard place. Darkness comes in through the cracks.”

For Deacon, he’s being surprisingly eloquent. I push myself up on my elbow, pressing close so I can drape my leg over his waist. He’s so handsome, with big, dark eyes, a crooked nose, a clean-cut mouth.

“I don’t hate him,” I say. “It’s just sad.”

“Yeah, some things are just sad,” he says.

I know he doesn’t feel the same way, but it’s different for him. I know how hard life was for Aiden and my brothers. We shared that hardship for years. Deacon saw him as a threat to me and nothing more.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I forgive Aiden now that I understand his past.

But I’m not sorry he’s dead.