Chapter Twenty-Three

Laia

 

Breath catching, I both pushed away from Rett and fisted my hands in his shirt. I needed to see him better, but I also needed to hold onto him in case I floated away.

Why did it tip the world gloriously off-balance whenever he said something like that? Why was I so surprised? Why couldn’t I say things like that?

Then he smiled at me.

A brilliant Rett Deacon smile, with a predator’s edge, and steady fire in his eyes.

Rett cupped my forearms in his big hands, his calluses and even the curve of his thumbs familiar now. He was so patient, letting me catch my breath, letting me hold onto him, letting me…

Letting me be me.

I’d stumbled into Winfyre thinking I was a fractured screw-up with little to offer except terrible omens, Orion’s name, and a dark secret etched on my skin. A broken mess not worth picking up the pieces of. Someone Rett had to put up with on top of everything else.

But, from the start, he’d been compassionate, fair, and protective. His gruffness was his mask for Winfyre. And how long had that lasted? Even now, if he pulled it out, I saw right through it.

Now that I’d met Kal, I could only imagine it was a Deacon self-defense maneuver, one that Rett hadn’t quite mastered.

With Rett, I forgot I was broken. Because he reminded me to ask the real question: was I?

Was I broken, or was I gloriously human?

For a man who could become a bear, he’d helped me both find my way back to myself and stand up for myself. Yet if I needed a hand, he was right there. Without question.

Or he’d question what the hell I was doing—when I needed it.

Rett also let me see his flaws, his imperfections, and let me criticize them. In spite of the demands of being in charge of Winfyre, he filled the air with an easy honesty and openness. It was intoxicating. After the hell of the last year, it was exactly what I needed. He’d reignited the fire in my soul, one that had helped seal up the cracks. He’d opened up my heart.

I love you.

I wanted to say it, but I couldn’t. It was only with an enormous effort that I didn't look down at my ankle. Because there was still a chance I wouldn’t make it out of this. My heart seized.

Oh God, what if I hurt him?

“Laia.”

Rett’s hand caught the back of my neck, and my eyes were forced to his. That penetrating, sky-blue gaze that sent a wave of calm rolling over my heart. My body arched forward, but he held me off so that he could meet my eyes.

“You are going to be okay.”

A half-hiccupping gasp escaped me. Damn, he was getting too good at reading me.

“Listen to me. No matter what, no matter how long it takes—we will find a cure.”

“But—” I couldn’t get the rest of the words out.

And, ugh, my stupid eyes were filling with tears, so I dropped them. I’d never been such a crier until I’d met Rett. If Tristan saw me now, he’d be concerned for my sanity.

“No,” he rumbled. “You will tell yourself that you are going to be fine, because as far as we know, you will be. There's nothing to worry about."

“Not yet,” I said, a little petulantly, and he half-smiled at me.

“I don’t think there will be,” Rett said. “Not if I know you.” Now he pulled me against him and rubbed my back. “But I’m here if you want to worry. Like I said, whatever you need.”

You.

The word was on the tip of my tongue, but I buried my face in his chest and closed my eyes.

I wasn’t as brave as Rett. I couldn’t admit these feelings that were so clearly consuming me. He sighed against my hair and continued to make soothing circles on my back. My heart pushed into my throat. I’d never had anything like this. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to exist without him.

As scary as that was, it also gave me a strange sense of peace.

Pulling away and wiping my face, I smiled at him. “I’m okay. Now, you know what I want? To hear about you. The Rett Deacon story.”

Rett reached out and rubbed a thumb along my cheek. “Sure. Where do I start?”

“Wherever you want.”

Nodding, Rett sat back and looked at the fire. For a moment, it was quiet, and I wondered if he’d changed his mind. If I’d pushed too hard. Then he began to speak.

He told me about growing up in a small town on the very edge of Oregon, between a national forest and the Pacific. From a young age, he'd loved the beach and all kinds of athletics, in spite of being somewhat shy as a kid. I could see that same quietness in him as an adult.

After high school, Rett decided to join the Navy, along with Tristan. Brody, Luke, Xander, and Kal were already serving, and by sheer, dumb luck, they managed to spend a few years together.

“We’d go all the way up and down the coast, from California to Alaska,” he said. “I mean, some days it was rough—storms, fishing out fisherman, some of whom didn’t make it—but it was beautiful. I mean, there were days when we’d be up north, maybe not even a hundred miles from here, and it would be so clear. The stars and the water—it was like another world.

“I mean, I remember this time Brody woke me up to come see these whales. So excited about some damn whales. At first, I was annoyed, but when I got on deck, we could see just thousands of whales.” Rett gazed up at the stars. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I used to think the one good thing about the Rift was that I got to live in the place I’d always dreamed of.”

I wanted to ask how they came to Winfyre, but I sensed that would be better for another time. His face tightened for a moment, darkness leaping in his eyes. Then he shook his head and began to talk about his life after the Navy, how he’d gone back to Oregon and to school.

"It was weird to be the older guy," he said with a laugh. "Bunch of eighteen-year-olds who couldn’t even drink, but there we were taking freshman English together.”

“When was that?” I asked.

“Ah, let’s see—six years ago.” Rett’s eyebrows flicked up. “Wow, I can’t believe it’s been that long.” He sighed. “Kind of miss it sometimes. I liked college.”

“I could see that,” I said.

“Yeah, I did an accelerated undergrad degree, then began working towards my masters. Education with some business classes on the side. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be a teacher or a counselor or what. While all that was going on, my buddy and I started a side business.”

“While you were in grad school?” I asked.

"Yeah, we were working with different sport teams, helping kids hone their skills and do teamwork exercises." He made an abashed face at my look. "Yeah, it was kind of cutting-edge stuff."

“I thought you were a teacher,” I confessed. “Definitely a Little League coach—I saw the pictures. And the theme of many a PTA mom fantasy.” Rett hunched his shoulders and shook his head. “What? I’m serious. All those ladies were lusting after you for sure.”

“No way,” Rett murmured, now flushing with color. “God, you sound like Brody.” A stark look came over his face, and his fists clenched. “Anyway, that’s the story.”

What the hell happened with Brody? I wondered again. Every time his name came up, if it came up, Rett looked agonized. No one else ever mentioned him. Granted, I hadn’t spent that much time with Xander or Luke. Brody had also gone to that camp with them, been in the Navy with them…I made a mental note to ask Tristan about it.

Feeling like a change of subject was in order, I leaned in and asked, “So, why a bear, do you think?” Rett gave me a sideways look and fought back a smile. “Height? Girth? Temperament?”

“I’ve no idea,” Rett said. “Not complaining, though.”

“What’s Kal?” I asked.

“Ice bear.”

My nostrils flared, and I shook my head. “Figures.”

“Hey, you two are gonna have to learn to get along,” Rett said.

“Excuse me—who accused whom of being a thief?” I snorted. “Dude doesn’t say much, but what he does say isn’t so nice.”

Rett laughed and then sighed. “Yeah. Kal’s always been a hard-ass.” He glanced at me. “I’m not trying to make excuses, but his dad died in active combat when we were kids. It took a toll on him. He was like that before my uncle passed, but, after, he got so much worse. A lot of responsibility always fell on his shoulders, you know? And he just bottles it all up.”

I pulled in a breath, suddenly feeling like an unforgivable asshole. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, Rett’s gruffness mixed with his expansive empathy made sense. He’d tried to both emulate his cousin and be there for him. Something I was certain had not escaped Kal’s notice. In fact, that might explain Kal’s hostile reaction toward me in the kitchen. Deacon protectiveness.

“I don’t want you to feel bad. I just want you to know it’s not personal,” Rett said. “I’m not excusing him, though. He can be a lot.”

“Yeah,” I said absently. But now Kal’s bad attitude seemed more stoic than savage. I looked up at Rett and smiled. "I get it. He looks out for you. Wants to make sure I’m not taking advantage.”

“Who knows?” Rett said, although he made a face, betraying the fact that he thought I had a point.

As we fell silent, I mulled over everything that Rett and I had been through. From going from a mutually wary kind of truce, threaded with dislike and a definite mutual hatred of the punishment claim; to treading a fine line between friends and partners, or, at least, agreeable roommates; to here, wrapped together, trying to get closer—a mix of Rett’s patience and reserve against my eager bluster and half-hidden fluster.

Everything would be all right.

I held onto Rett more tightly.

It has to be.