“That’s doubtful.”
I screwed my eyes up at him. “I totally love you more.”
He held my gaze. Then his went to the porch ceiling.
“She can argue about who loves who more.”
“I so love you more,” I retorted.
He looked back at me.
Then he whispered, “Beautiful war.”
Beautiful war.
It was indeed.
I didn’t get the chance to agree.
Deacon slid his hand up into my hair, pulled me to him, and kissed me.
He gave it all to me.
I gave it back.
And we made out in Deacon’s chair in the cold on my porch by a river in the Colorado Mountains and we did it a long, long time.
Yes.
Daddy was home.
Yippee!
Epilogue
Cookies
I was in my foyer, pacing the floor, Bossy at my side panting.
Deacon was leaned against the jamb of the kitchen door, arms crossed on his chest, jeans-clad hip hitched, one foot crossed at the ankle, watching me.
“Woman, cool it,” he ordered.
I stopped and looked to him.
Mom and Dad were going to be there imminently to look after Glacier Lily while Deacon and I went to Iowa.
I’d called Mom and told her Deacon was back, we’d worked things out, and we were picking up where we left off.
Considering the way I was when they showed in August, this news didn’t bring joy to my mother.
I then shared everything about Deacon.
Well, not the parts about him killing people, but (most of) the rest. About Jeannie. About him going off the grid. About him being called Ghost and why. And about his struggle when I went about doing something I didn’t really know I was doing: reviving him.
Not surprisingly, she caved.
Mom had a good heart.