Page 19

WINTER

Guilt claws at me. Sharp and unforgiving.

I should have left after the first night. I should have never let this go on for this long.

It’s day five in Deacon’s home, and if we stay another two days in this mansion of his, that’ll be making it a week.

Spending a week in Deacon’s house is the last thing I wanted, but how can I leave now?

How can I leave when he speaks to my babies like they are the coolest kids he’s ever met?

How can I walk away when Deacon’s taken days off from the office just so he could make Adrian feel a little comfortable in his mansion after the scare we had at our house?

This isn’t fair to my babies. And this isn’t fair to Deacon as well, not when I lied straight to his face that he wasn’t the father to my boys even though the truth is right there in the pudding.

The guest room we are in has the sun throwing its shards on the bed and on me. The bed itself, the one I’ve slept on with my babies for days, feels like a warm cloud. I could sleep in forever, but I know that today’s the day we leave.

I push the covers away, sitting up till my back meets the headboard. I stretch my hands, letting out a yawn, only for it to get stuck in my throat when I almost scream from the two grinning boys standing in front of me.

“Goddess! You both scared me.”

Ash and Adrian are wearing matching superhero PJs, the ones that Deacon bought for them and sneaked into our closets.

He’s been buying us clothes and putting them where we can see them.

I can’t even begin to state the shock and embarrassment I felt when I found new pairs of panties, jeans, and t-shirts for me folded in one side of the closet.

It was the thought of Deacon ordering new panties for me in the middle of the night that nearly haunted me to death—unless he went out to buy them for me. Though that would be impossible. He hasn’t left the apartment since my boys and I started living here.

“Sorry, Mommy,” Adrian apologizes. “We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Uncle Deacon’s preparing our favorite pancakes! He said he could make them in the shape of any animal we want, Mommy!” Ash squeals.

Goddess. Why is Deacon making this hard for me?

“Did he?” I ask in humor, and behind it is a little pain from the thought of telling them today’s our last day here and it’s time to go home.

My wolf doesn’t want to go… and me? I want to say I hate it here, but I don’t, and it’s because of Deacon.

“Mumm. Do you want to make pancakes with us?” Adrian asks.

Since the incident at the pool three days ago, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think I can trust my body and my wolf to be near Deacon again.

“Please, Mommy. Uncle Deacon promised they would be delicious!”

Of course, Deacon did. He’s the kind of man who adores perfection more than anyone I know.

Knowing there’s no way I’m winning over pancakes, I give my babies a small smile, “How about you give Mommy a few minutes to freshen up and come downstairs?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

They both skip their way out of the room.

I've been their mother for six years, and I've never seen them this happy, not even when I indulge them with ice cream before dinner.

I take a quick bath, reach into the closet and put on some of the clothes Deacon bought for me before making my way downstairs.

“A wolf!” Ash’s voice greets me all the way from upstairs.

I almost falter in my steps, trying to decipher if Deacon is telling my boys about our werewolf form. Telling them they are werewolves when they are barely eight is the wrong way to go.

“A wolf is even better. It’s strong, just like you. What about you, Adrian? What are we thinking? In what animal shape do you want your pancake? A wolf? A lion? A cheetah?” Deacon’s deep voice follows next, and it’s nothing but a calm tremor that seizes my heart from where I'm standing, especially when I realize they are talking about pancakes.

I want to hear more of his voice.

“I want a wolf-shaped pancake, too, Uncle Deacon. It’s strong, and it howls at the moon when it feels all alone.”

Before Deacon can reply to Adrian’s comment, I enter the kitchen, my eyes racking over the man who has an apron on his body but is shirtless underneath that apron.

His jeans hung low, and even though that apron is hiding his abs, there’s no denying I can see the deep V lines disappearing into his jeans and leading to…

He shouldn’t be this hot. Not with an apron that’s embroidered with the words “Mama Can Cook” and certainly not with flour patches on different sides of his face.

“Winter. Good morning. Pancakes?” Deacon asks, whisk full of wet flour in hand.

His hair, which is usually combed into some corporate hairstyle, is shaggy right now and falls on his forehead. I’ve never been a sucker for hair, but I’d definitely want my hands running inside Deacon’s hair right about now.

Goddess, I’m fighting a losing battle, aren’t I?

“Morning. Mind if I join in to help?”

“Sure,” Deacon replies.

Standing by his side, taking an apron from the rack and putting it on, I help Deacon by taking out the pans from the bottom counter and placing them on the cooker before adding the butter.

Our shoulders touch, and I don’t have to look at him to see his smile.

“What are you smiling about?”

Whisk and bowl in hand, he turns to me and eyes my outfit that’s beneath my apron with mischievous eyes.

“You look good.”

Oh please, I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and yet his compliment flays my nerves raw like butter on a hot skillet.

“Thanks. Someone bought me new clothes and hid them in my closet, so of course I had to wear them,” I say in humor.

“He has good taste,” Deacon replies with a smirk as if we are not speaking about it.

This is the most we’ve spoken in five days.

Most of the time, Deacon stays in his office and plays with Adrian and Ash, but he doesn’t speak to me or bother me in any way. I think he’s afraid that if he speaks to me, I’ll snap and take the boys away.

I should want him to think that, but why does my heart drop to my stomach at the thought of Deacon avoiding me?

“How are the panties, Winter? Do they fit, too?”

His steely, hooded eyes are accompanied by that panty-dropping smile. I fall for it. I fall for his words, hook, line, and sinker, and I can’t feel any guilt about it.

“Mommy? I think something’s burning.”

By the time I remember I’d put butter on the pan, Deacon’s already moving around me like a pro, throwing the pan in the sink, and taking another one and putting it on the cooker. Then he comes up behind me, his chest hugging my back, his breath patting the small hairs on the back of my neck and making my body shiver in a good way. I lean into his scent, my eyes closing at the sparks that ignite when his hands touch mine.

“Uncle Deacon, are you teaching Mommy to make pancakes?” Ash asks behind us, and I open my eyes slightly chuckling.

“Yes. We can’t have Mommy burning my entire kitchen,” Deacon replies just as easily as the hand he puts on my waist.

“Mommy knows how to cook our favorite pancakes,” Adrian retorts.

If I thought Deacon was close a minute ago, having my ass rest on his crotch confirms he’s closer now, and I can feel the reaction he has on me is the same reaction I have on him.

“Mommy doesn’t know how I make pancakes, though,” Deacon challenges.

Cocking my head to the side until our eyes meet, I flick my brow at him, “Are you challenging me right now, Mr. Cross?”

“I wouldn’t dare, baby, but this is my house, and today, I’m the one feeding you. Either we cook together, or you sit down and wait for your meal.”

Cooking with him means I get to feel him behind me while he whispers things in my ears.

Sitting down and waiting for the meal means I get to sit down and watch his muscles from the back and how they flex when he’s cooking pancakes.

I pick the latter.

XXX

Deacon’s pancakes were delicious. Better than anything I’d ever cooked, that’s for sure. I wanted to talk to him, maybe tell him that I was thinking of leaving with the boys today, but in the end, I didn’t tell him because the boys stole him from me before I had the chance to.

I’ve been holed up in my room, reading a book I snagged from Deacon’s library, and despite the number of hours I’ve spent on it, I can hardly tell who’s the main character and who isn’t.

Just like I’ve done for the last couple of hours, I sit by the window, staring at my boys below.

Right now, he’s teaching them to play baseball, and that ball of guilt in my throat only grows bigger.

Adrian and Asher stand on one end of Deacon’s vast garden, and Deacon stands on the other end.

Deacon has a baseball glove in his hand and a bucket of baseballs near his feet. Taking one out, he throws it to Adrian.

Of course, my baby, who’s never caught anything with his tiny hands, fails to catch it.

“It’s okay. No one gets it on the first try. Get the ball, come on, buddy.”

Adrian runs and gets the ball.

“Throw it back to me,” Deacon encourages.

Hesitant at first but encouraged by Deacon’s smile, Adrian throws the ball, and Deacon catches it, cheering the minute he does so.

“You did it, buddy.”

“I did it! I did it, Ash!” Adrian jumps.

Goddess, does it get better than this? Seeing my kids play with a father they’ve wanted all their entire lives.

“Are you ready, Ash? It’s your turn.”

I told Deacon he wasn’t their father, so why is he still playing with my boys? Why is he still treating them like… he loves them? Like he won’t reject them no matter what I say?

Ash fails to catch the ball like his brother, but Deacon encourages him to throw the ball back.

Just like before, Deacon cheers when Ash throws the ball back. They celebrate the small win in the form of Deacon chasing them all around his garden.

I’m hung up on their smiles.

I’m hung up on the way Deacon looks at Ash and Adrian like he knows they are going to slip away from him anytime now, but he’s trying his best to live in the moment.

I ache for that look on his face. He brought me unimaginable pain once upon a time, but is it fair to bring him the same pain by keeping his kids away from him?

I have to tell him my boys are his.

“He’ll love Adrian and Ash,” my wolf encourages.

Dinner passes like a whirlwind because the boys are too tired from running around all night. They both fall asleep in their chairs on the dinner table, and I’m already standing up, ready to pick them up and take them to their rooms, when Deacon beats me to it.

“I’ll carry them,” Deacon offers.

“I can help. I know both of them are heavy.”

“I got them, Winter. I’ll tuck them in bed. Is that okay with you?” Sure, there’s a smile on his face when he says that, but I can see the plea in his eyes. He’s never tucked them in bed, and he’s asking me for permission.

“Sure. That’s okay with me.”

Carrying them on both arms, making sure not to drop them, he offers me an appreciative smile before saying, “I’ll be back, baby.”

I want to say, “I’ll be waiting for you, Deacon,” but the words never leave my mouth.

Instead, I watch him take my boys upstairs, and the minute he’s out of sight, I stand up and take the empty, dirty dishes to the kitchen before I start pacing around with sweaty palms.

How do I even start telling him that they are his kids? How do I tell him that I never told him about it because I thought he would be a bastard to my kids like he was to me, as I initially thought?

“You are stressing about everything, aren’t you?” I’m pulled out of my thoughts by Deacon’s voice.

Leaning against the beam of the doorway to the kitchen, he looks especially handsome tonight in a dark shirt that looks like it’s painted on his muscles and faded blue jeans that hug his thick, muscular thighs.

“Deacon, I have something to tell you,” I start, more nervous than ever.

You are a father, Deacon. Those boys you tucked in bed are yours. Those boys you’ve been teaching to play baseball are yours.

“You want to leave,” Deacon spurts the words with acid, but his face is as calm as ever.

I was supposed to leave today, but I stayed. Like always.

“Do I get to convince you to stay, Winter?” Deacon continues, pulling away from the doorway and whisking towards me. ” Because I want you, Ash, and Adrian to stay with me forever, baby. Call me selfish, hell, I’m a fucking bastard for demanding this much or for telling you this right now, but I… I need you guys. These past few days have been the best for me, and I’d sacrifice anything to get you guys to stay. What can I do, Winter? What do I do to make you stay?”

“Deacon, that's the last thing…”

Cutting me off completely, eating the distance between us in three long strides, he corners me against the marble countertop behind me. His huge hand splays on my right cheek. ” I love you, baby. I love you for bringing those amazing little boys to life. I love you, and I’m fucking dying to show you just how much.”