“Dios mio,” she said softly.
“Yes,” I agreed. “Now, I hate to cut this short because I know you’re worried but I need to get back to him. He’s bonding with Bossy, and a lot has happened since he showed up, but there’s a lot left to be said. We’ll have a good gab soon.”
“Okay, Cassidy. But I must leave you with this: the most important person in the world is you. Whatever you decide, do it taking care of you.”
She was totally the bomb.
“I am. I will. I promise,” I told her.
“Okay, querida. I believe you. See you soon.”
“Later, Milagros.”
I hit the button on the screen and put my phone down, training my eyes to the snow-gilded trees.
Now that the intensity of Deacon coming back was over and I was sitting in the cold on my porch—something I’d done alone for six months, something I didn’t enjoy doing alone for six months, far from it— all that had happened, all that he’d given me, as mammoth as it was, was wearing off.
Because I was right.
There was still a lot left to be said.
I took a page out of Deacon’s book when I heard the door open and I didn’t turn to look. I heard his boots on the deck, as well as Bossy’s claws. Then I saw a steaming mug put down on the arm of the chair as Bossy came to me and nosed my hand.
I gave her some pets and scratches, looking at the mug.
It was cocoa. Cocoa with marshmallow fluff melting on top.
I had not forgotten how Deacon could surprise me with little snatches of sweetness, like being a badass and putting marshmallow on hot cocoa (or making it at all). But I couldn’t deny it felt crazy-good having it back.
“Bed, baby,” I ordered Bossy, lifting up the cup.
She loped to the big dog bed I had out on the porch by the railing in front of the chairs that I’d thrown an old flannel blanket over. Her place in the cold when I was outside so she could be with me.
“She’s trained.” I heard Deacon say, knowing he was sitting beside me.
I took a sip of cocoa, the fluff tipping my lip. I took the cup away and licked it off.
“She knows ‘sit,’ ‘down,’ ‘stay,’ ‘bed,’ ‘come,’ ‘quiet,’ ‘be good,’ ‘downstairs,’ ‘upstairs,’ ‘play dead,’ and ‘fetch,’” I shared. “She’s great at fetch. She loves Frisbees.”
He said nothing but I felt the heaviness that came from him, my guess, this due to the fact he wasn’t there to teach her all that with me.
I drew in a breath.
Before I could ask for it, Deacon gave it to me.
“Grew up on a farm in Iowa.”
I closed my eyes tight, those seven words washing over me, beating back the January chill.
“Granddad was an attorney,” he went on and I opened my eyes. “Pissed as shit my dad didn’t follow in his footsteps. But Dad wanted to be a farmer so he bought a farm and became a farmer. Found a woman who wanted him however he came, but regardless, she loved the life.”
I took another sip of cocoa while Deacon paused and I held my cup in front of me in both my gloved hands as he carried on.
“I didn’t want to be a farmer. Got a younger sister, she wasn’t into that shit either. Dad was disappointed but he’d been a son who went his own way. He was also a man who wouldn’t push his son to go his way because he’d been the same.”
He had a sister.
I said nothing. Just took another sip.