her bruised wrists and wary posture is understandable. It’s appreciated that he’s also keeping his opinion on her welfare to himself though. Because if Ginny feels cornered, she’ll run. Right now, she’s working on a triple stack burger like she hasn’t eaten in two days. She didn’t even bother with dessert—and only the desperate souls skip the fun stuff.
“I can’t eat any more,” Maggie declares, sitting with her nose almost planted in her bowl. “But I can’t waste it!”
Deek jerks his chin at her melting mountain of vanilla dairy coated in caramel and chocolate. “Pass it over. I’ll finish it.”
She slides it over to him. “Thanks.”
A dimple appears on the side of his mouth.
I’m so distracted by the sight of it, I tip my cone. The top scoop of ice cream plops to the table.
“Oh NO,” Maggie declares, like this is the absolute worst tragedy she can imagine.
“Napkins,” Charlotte says.
Ginny is already passing them over. “I can smell the cherries in yours, Sue. They smell really good. What a waste.”
“I know,” I lament. “And dang, girl. You can smell the cherries? You’ve always had a good nose.” I snatch up the napkins. “Thanks, guys,” I start to say.
Deek catches Ginny by her fingertips, startling everyone.
“Sorry,” he says—but he pulls her hand closer instead of letting her go. Indignantly, she stands up, trying to free herself as he dips his nose down over her wrist.
He’s already releasing her when she manages to gather herself enough to snarl, “Let me go!”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, head down, appearing to mean it.
“What the hell!?” she demands.
Maggie gasps.
Charlotte winces.
Ginny does too, and she tosses me an apologetic glance. “Sorry, Sue.”
I hold up a finger. “I’ll let that one go.” I throw a look to our werewolf, but he’s still hunkered low in his seat, unaware of the slight commotion he’s caused around us. Because other diners are glancing over, wondering what the fuss is about.
Or maybe Deek is aware of it, and that’s also why he’s looking so ashamed.
“I won’t do that again,” Deek promises. “You can finish your food. Why couldn’t the green pepper practice archery?”
His question is delivered to the table’s surface so flatly and so on the heels of a topic in a whole other field that nobody says anything. We do stare at him though.
He mumbles, “Because it didn't habenero. What do mermaids use to wash their tails?”
“I love mermaids!” Maggie chirps.
“Tide,” Deek murmurs uncomfortably, finishing his anxiously delivered joke.
“Okaaay…” Giving him serious side-eye, Ginny eases back down into her seat and picks up her burger. “What’s wrong with you?” she asks him.
“He’s nervous,” Charlotte replies just as Maggie gasps, “There’s nothing wrong with Deek!”
I wipe up the mess I’ve made and finish my cone, staring hard enough at Deek he should be able to feel it. Why did you grab Ginny like that?
Proving he might indeed be sensitive to my pointed attention, he darts one imploring look at me before starting in on Maggie’s ice cream like the faster he inhales it, the quicker we’ll all move on from this moment.
And along his jaw, the stubble is growing, turning tufted. Like the most serious mutton chops ever. Or fur.
“Do you need anything from town?” I ask Ginny in an effort to break the tension and redirect everyone’s attention.
Her cheeks color a little, and she adopts the same posture Deek has over his food. “Um, No. Charlotte’s bathroom should have everything I need.”
I mentally call up the supplies stocked in Charlotte’s bathroom: pads to bandages, she should be covered. “Okay.”
It’s a quiet ride home. When we all file inside with our insulated grocery bags, the girls split up to go to their rooms—and Ginny asks me if it’s okay if Charlotte locks her door tonight.
Deek hunches. “I won’t hurt you,” he announces.
This, to a girl whose eyes say she’s heard the line before, does nothing to thaw her. She doesn’t scoff, but the beat of silence stretches uncomfortably before she turns and marches for Charlotte’s room.
Charlotte throws a disbelieving look at Deek that he doesn’t see because he’s crouched on the floor now.
“If I didn’t believe you, I’d be on the phone with Finn right now,” I sigh, and pull the milk out of the bag and set it on the top shelf in the fridge. “But I do trust you.” To Charlotte, I motion for her to be with Ginny.
She’s nodding, already on her way, following her friend.
I begin pulling items from bags and setting them on the island