Page 48 of Deacon (The Sovereign Mountain #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

FREYA

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

It’s the middle of the afternoon in early summer. The windows are open, the breeze fluttering them. I’m on my side of the couch, a pillow under my stomach and between my knees. It helps, but I’m still panting, laying perfectly still.

“You want some water?”

I lift my head. Ginny comes out of the kitchen, a glass in her hand. Slowly, I ease myself up and shift back against the couch. I’m supposed to keep my legs elevated, but it compresses my lower stomach. I’m carrying low, and my stomach hasn’t stretched a lot, which means my lungs are getting crushed.

“Thank you,” I manage.

She sets it down and goes to look out over the driveway. “You want to take a nap?”

I shake my head. “I want to see them. ”

Today is a day I’ve waited for for months. Bittern is getting out of rehab today. Clean. Heavily pregnant or not, I’m going to be out on the porch waiting for him.

I get up with difficulty and join Ginny by the window. As if on cue, Deacon’s truck appears over the hill. He parks, and I’m out the door as fast as I can go. Bittern steps out onto the gravel at the same time as the back door swings open. A sob erupts from my throat, and I clap a hand over my mouth.

He’s standing tall, his head down but his eyes up. He’s put on a little weight, and it looks good on him, filling out the shoulders of his shirt. Somebody gave him a good haircut and trimmed his beard short. He stops and looks at me. Then, he shakes his head.

“Hey, Frey,” he says.

Tears pour out. I can’t stop them.

“Hey, Bittern,” I whisper.

He comes up the drive, walking in that easy way I haven’t seen since before the mines. I’m speechless as he takes me in his arms, pulling me close. He smells good, like soap and nice clothes. I close my eyes and press my wet face into his shoulder.

This is all I wanted. Clean, happy Bittern.

He pulls back and looks down. “Well, looks like you were pregnant, huh?”

I laugh, wiping my face. “Yeah, I’m due in a few weeks.”

“What is it?”

I shrug. “We decided not to find out. Deacon is dead set on thinking it’s a boy, but I’m pretty sure it’s a girl.”

“Well, I think whatever it is, it’s lucky to have you, Frey,” he says, giving me a soft stare.

God, there he is. The dullness is gone, and the Bittern I love shines right through.

I wipe my puffy face. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m starving.”

My throat is so tight, I can’t do anything but nod. Ginny appears behind me and waves Bittern up the stairs. This is their first meeting, but I hear her scolding him about being too thin as they head down the hall—didn’t they feed him anything in that rehab? For all the money it costs, they should have. Smiling, I linger by the door for Deacon. He comes up the walkway, sauntering like he owns the world.

He wraps an arm around my waist, one hand on my belly.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, kissing me.

“I’m crying and pregnant, but thank you,” I say, kissing him back.

He guides me into the house, shutting the door. Stu comes tearing around the corner, almost doubled in size since the day I found him. I found out from Jensen, after cornering him in the café one day, that Stu wasn’t a stray. Deacon bought him from a neighboring farm and put him in the alley. Then, Jensen stuck around to make sure I found him and pointed me in the direction of Ryder Ranch.

I was speechless. The nerve of Deacon Ryder to set a trap with a puppy as bait. And I fell for it.

He’s a wild man, but I love it. I’m never bored.

I scratch Stu behind the ears, adjusting his plaid bandana. Deacon says he’d make a good hunting dog when fall comes around. Stu thinks that’s too much work, I can tell. He’d much rather hang out at the house than go out into the cold. He’s been glued to my side every moment of this pregnancy, so it’s easy to see who he likes best anyway.

In the kitchen, Andy leans on the stove, talking to Bittern. The other day, he cleaned out one of the unused employee houses. Bittern will live there for as long as he wants, and he’ll work for the ranch. That was Deacon’s idea, to help give Bittern a soft landing so all that rehab sticks.

That’s what he says, but I know he wants Bittern close for my sake.

Ginny piles the table with thick, cheesy potato soup and garlic bread. We sit down, and Deacon puts his hand on my thigh under the table. I nibble—I’m so pregnant, it’s hard to find room for a full meal—and look around the table with my heart full.

Bittern is alert, talking with Ginny and Andy like the accident never happened. Deacon is listening, absently stroking my leg. My heart is so full. I lay my hand on my stomach, grateful I didn’t run when I had the chance.

Sometimes, it feels like a dream. But then, I look at him, and he’s so real, I know it’s not.

This is my life. I love and I’m loved back.

After dinner, when the house is quiet and we’re alone, I go upstairs and undress for bed. I hear Deacon turn out the lights and say goodnight to Stu before heading up. He walks down the hallway and into our room, shutting the door behind him.

I’m on my side, feeling incredibly pregnant, but not too pregnant to notice he’s looking good. My hormones have been raging. We’ve had more sex than ever in the last eight months.

He strips off and gets in the shower. I flip on my other side so I can watch the stars come out over the mountains. I’m drowsy by the time he comes out and gets into bed, his warm, naked skin sending shivers of pleasure through me.

“Mind if I borrow that pussy for a minute?” he says, kissing up my neck.

“It’s all yours, daddy,” I murmur.

I let him shift my thigh to rest over his knee. I’ve had some swelling, so I’m not wearing the chastity belt, but he gave me a silver bracelet to wear instead. It’s a beautiful circlet, with our initials entwined on the clasp.

He spits in his hand and guides his cock into me, groaning. The sensation of hard smoothness and the four points of his piercings make my eyes roll back.

“It feels good,” I whisper, letting my head sink into the pillow.

“Better than good,” he breathes.

He fucks me, slow and deep. I bite my lip when he strokes my clit, pumping lazily, until I orgasm with a breathy gasp. Dimly, I hear him call me his good girl, his hand on my throat. He’s so hard, I’m filled with the sweetest pressure as he comes, emptying into my pussy.

I love our casual intimacy—the kinky things he does, the intense scenes, they burn me up. They’re a place where we can work everything out, and I feel so safe with him. But the little things about being his wife are the things that make me feel the most loved.

The kisses pressed to my cheek before he leaves in the morning. When he grabs my ass as he goes by. The quickies we have when he’s in a hurry or comes in late. The sleepy morning sex before he goes out to do chores.

I always feel loved now. That has changed me, fundamentally rewiring my brain, healing my heart.

After he cleans me up, he arranges my pillows to support my stomach. I sigh in satisfaction as he starts absently rubbing my lower back. Satisfied silence falls.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” he says. “Just love me.”

That makes me smile in the dark. My eyelids are heavy. I’m always sleepy now, so it doesn’t take long to fall asleep. It’s staying asleep that gets me some nights. Most of the time, the baby starts kicking around three, and I have to get up to use the bathroom. Tonight, I’m grateful we both sleep soundly.

I’m more rested than usual when I get up the next morning. Deacon is already gone. My clothes are laid out. He chose a matching pair of panties and a new bra to accommodate me being pregnant. Slowly, I put it on and pull the dress he laid on the chair over it.

Downstairs, Ginny stands by the stove, frying up bacon. When I sit, she turns and offers me a smile. “You want some tea, honey?”

I nod. I’m incredibly grateful to have her right now, especially as I get closer to my due date. I’d always assumed that when I had a family, I wouldn’t have any women to help me. But now, I find myself with one of the kindest women I’ve ever met helping me out every day, even when she’s off the clock. Tracy comes too, at least once a week, just to chat. That means a lot.

“How do you feel?” Ginny asks.

I clear my throat. “Alright. Just very pregnant. I’ve been having a lot of Braxton Hicks. Everything goes tight and then relaxes. ”

“I had a lot of those with my son,” she says. “My daughter, not so much.”

Somebody saunters down the steps. Bittern appears in the doorway. I take a second just to look at him. He’s freshly showered, more alert than I’ve ever seen him.

“Hey, Frey,” he says, circling the table and sinking down into a chair.

“How’d you sleep?” I ask.

He nods. “Real good. It’s quiet out here on the ranch. Where’s Deacon at? He need me to help with chores?”

“He’s got Andy and the other cowboys,” Ginny says, handing him a plate of bacon and eggs. “You eat.”

I pick up my tea and get to my feet, only to set the mug back down. Ginny is filling my plate, her back to me. Bittern stops mid-bite and looks up.

“You alright?” he asks.

I stare at the ground. There’s nothing on the floor, no gush of water, but it feels like…I’m peeing myself. Mortified, I tug my skirt to my knee and look for a wet spot.

“Honey, you okay?” Ginny sets the plate down.

“I don’t know. My water might have broken,” I say, blushing furiously. “It’s sort of…wet.”

Bittern shoots to his feet. “I’m getting Deacon.”

He disappears out the side door. Grateful he’s gone, I hitch my skirt up a little higher. That’s when something warm trickles down the inside of my thigh, followed by a few more drops that reach my ankle. I look up at Ginny, frightened.

“I think it’s time,” she says.

“Is that my water?” I whisper.

She nods. “Let’s get you laid down on the couch while Bittern gets Deacon.”

She gets me to the living room and tucks a towel between my thighs. I can tell she’s being calm on purpose so I won’t be frightened. I appreciate it, but I’m terrified. She pats my hand and goes down the hall. I hear boots on the porch, and Deacon’s coming around the corner and at my side in a second. He kneels, looking up at me.

“You alright?” he asks.

I nod wordlessly.

“Any contractions?” His voice is steady. I cling to how calm he is.

I shake my head then nod. “I don’t know. I thought they were Braxton Hicks.”

“Ginny’s calling into the hospital now,” he says. “They’ll let us know if you should go in yet or wait.”

I nod, swallowing. He takes my hands, looking into my eyes.

“Hey, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says. “I won’t leave you for a minute.”

I look into his eyes, and I’m not scared anymore. He’s here. He always is, no matter what I need. I swallow and offer him a weak smile.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

Ginny walks in, holding the phone to her ear. “They’re saying because of the distance, you should start gathering things up and head in now. It’s not a hurry, but we need to head in that direction.”

Shakily, I turn to Deacon. His fingers grip mine hard.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

I look into his eyes, dark and soft. I squeeze his hand back.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I whisper.

It’s ten hours later when I’m on my back with the ceiling spinning, floating in and out of euphoria that it’s over. I can hear my baby mewling angrily in the nurse’s arms. Deacon’s saying something, and I can tell he’s somewhere beyond happy.

The nurse gets me cleaned up and helps me sit up against the pillows. Another nurse holds our baby, wrapped in a blue blanket. My heart is going so fast, I might pass out. Deacon says something to the nurse in a low voice. Smiling, she puts our little bundle in his arms. Our baby is so small, Deacon can hold it in just his hands. But then, he’s always had huge hands.

“Deacon,” I say .

He looks up. I’ve never seen him like this before. His dark eyes are wide, his lashes wet.

“You seeing this, sweetheart?” he says, looking down. “That’s our baby.”

“I could see better if you bring her over,” I say.

He walks over, like he’s afraid he’ll break something, and sinks onto the edge of the bed.

“It’s a boy,” he says.

My brows shoot up. All through the pregnancy, I was so convinced I was carrying a girl. It takes me a second to calibrate myself.

“You alright?” Deacon asks.

I nod, sniffing. “He’s perfect.”

Smiling through my tears, I realize I never cared. I just want my family to be happy and whole. I’m worn out but not too tired to let him put our baby in my arms. He’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, red and scrunched up with dark hair. Right away, I can tell he’s going to favor his father. When he cracks a blurry eye, I see a hint of the same bullheadedness I know so well.

I just hope he’s less of a daredevil.

“What do you want to name him?” Deacon asks, leaning in.

I reach out my free hand and slip it into his. All through the labor, which the doctor said was easy and short, Deacon held my hand. He brushed my hair back and fed me chips of ice with a spoon. When the pain made me want to give up, he kissed my sweaty forehead and let me cuss him out for doing this to me.

Now, all that’s faded, and we’re in the thick of the new baby haze. We stare down at him, holding onto each other hard.

“I just had girl names on my list,” I say.

“I didn’t have any names,” Deacon admits. “You seemed pretty set on the ones you had.”

I glance at Deacon. He’s in his work pants, steel-toed boots, and charcoal gray shirt. Behind him, through the hospital window, runs the highway, and beyond it are the mountains. I never noticed until now, but in this light, they’re the same color as the shirt he always wears, a shade brighter than his eyes .

“Slate,” I say. “You like Slate Ryder?”

He nods. “Yeah, it’s practical, sturdy. I reckon he could be somebody with a name like that.”

“Alright, Slate is fine by me,” I whisper.

He bends in, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. I look back through the window, realizing I’ve finally made peace with these mountains. I’ll always miss the Appalachian hills—they raised me, but I’ve found something just as beautiful here.

Montana is my home now. We’ll raise our children in these fields. When Deacon and I are gone, the hard-packed earth will cradle us while we sleep.

I’m at peace.

It doesn’t take long for us to fall into a new routine when we finally get home to Ryder Ranch. Deacon already had the nursery set up. During the pregnancy, I sat in a rocking chair and watched him prepare the room and build a crib with his bare hands.

That’s when I realized, deep down, I made the right choice. For all his faults and questionable choices in the past, Deacon was made to care for a family. He’s the most selfless man I’ve ever met.

The weeks blur together. Bittern lives in employee housing and works on the ranch. He’s thriving as Deacon trains him to work with the horses, and he’s making strides in his personal life as well. One day, he walks into the kitchen while Ginny’s youngest daughter, Janie, is visiting. After that, he’s a goner, hanging around the porch like a stray dog every day.

Finally, Deacon gets so fed up that he goes right up to Janie and tells her that Bittern’s taking her out Saturday night. The next morning, I’m going for my daily walk with Slate, and I see them both sitting on his porch, having coffee with messy hair.

I smile and keep on walking.

Some of us made it, some didn’t. You reap what you sow. I’m so glad it was Bittern who made it out.

Being a mother is difficult, but I love it more than anything. Slate is a pleasant baby. Ginny says he’s easier than any of her children. He doesn’t cause much fuss until his teeth start coming in, and then I switch him to bottles because he won’t quit biting. Soon, he’s crawling. Pretty quickly, he’s Mr. Independent, walking around the house.

I cry to Deacon about it—my baby is growing up so fast.

“He’s just got a lot of get up and go, sweetheart,” he says. “He’ll need it on the ranch.”

I wipe my eyes, sniffing. We’re standing in the bathroom, getting ready for bed.

“I think I’m ready to have another one,” I say.

His brows shoot to his hairline. “What’s that?”

I turn, leaning on the sink, hands behind my back.

“I want another baby,” I say. “It’s not like you can’t afford all the babies we want.”

He’s in just his sweats and, God, he looks good, all tattoos and muscles. He leans on the counter and looks me in the eyes.

“I want lots of babies,” he says. “But I aim to marry you first. I’ve waited long enough.”

I scowl, but inside, I’m secretly pleased. “Okay.”

He turns me around, bends me over the counter, and spanks my ass. “We can start trying on our wedding night.”

I laugh and he picks me up, carrying me to our bed. We fall onto the flannel, the way we did the first night we spent together. Our mouths meet, and sparks burst like fireworks, warming me to my toes.

When we break apart, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I don’t want a big wedding,” I whisper. “I’d like to get up, put on my nice dress, pick some flowers from the field, and go to the courthouse. Bittern can be the witness. Then, we can have dinner at the ranch. Is that…alright?”

He cocks his head. “Is that really what you want?”

I nod, confident. “I never dreamed of a big wedding, just somebody who loves me for all the days afterward.”

The corner of his mouth curls in a smile. His mouth brushes my forehead.

“Let’s do it,” he says .

He bends in, and we kiss deeply. My heart that longed for home finally found it. I know he feels the same way. Our house is happy and we’re all together.

I’m always safe. He’s always loved.

We both got everything we wanted. I can’t wait to see what the future holds.