Chapter 23
CLARE’S BROTHER GREETED HIM with suspicious eyes and a firm handshake, which he returned in kind.
“We want to trick-or-treat,” Maci said on the verge of whining.
“Wash hands, go potty, then we’ll go.”
“I’ll take them,” Clare said, dumping paper plates in the trash. “We need to redo some whiskers too.”
Deacon’s heart warmed watching Clare lead the girls off. Connor walked over to look at his nephews sleeping in the crib then turned to him.
“So,” Connor said, studying him. “You’re the guy.”
“Yep.”
“Want a beer?”
“No thanks.”
Connor shrugged then went to Clare’s refrigerator and helped himself. With the beer in hand, he opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside onto Clare’s postage stamp-sized back porch. He twisted the top off the bottle, took a long drink, and sighed. “I’m not much for confrontation,” Connor said after a moment.
“Do we need one?”
Connor gave him a long look. “I’m not sure yet. Cute girls.”
“Thanks.”
“Clare said you told her you’re not married.”
“I did. And I’m not.”
Connor nodded slowly, took another drink. “Still, I feel it’s my duty as big brother to give you some kind of warning. Like if you think you’re going to come in here and start all over, jerk her around—you’re not.”
“That’s not my plan, but they’re my sons. I’m going to be their father.”
“That’s fine. But Clare’s not a toy to play with.”
“I never thought she was.”
He couldn’t tell if Connor believed that, and he didn’t really feel like explaining himself to her brother or talking to him about things he hadn’t even talked to Clare about. “We have some things to work out. And we will. I’m not here to hurt her.”
Connor nodded slowly. “Well, if you do, killing you won’t be enough.”
“Understood.”
They stood a few minutes in silence. “I heard Clare was quite the outfielder.” Deacon had to admit, he liked a guy who would lie to his little sister to convince her she was good at sports.
Connor laughed softly. “Shit. She doesn’t still think that was the best position?”
“Apparently, she does. But don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
HAVING DONE WHAT HE came to do, Connor left. The girls were dressed in matching black tights, leotards, and headbands with little black cat ears. Clare redrew their whiskers and black triangles on their noses. They were adorable. The boys were zipped up in green fleece bunting sacks made to look like dinosaurs. The green hoods with soft yellow spikes completed the look and would keep their heads warm.
“Okay, who’s ready to trick-or-treat?” Clare asked.
Margo and Maci raced toward the door.
“Coats,” Deacon said to them. That decree was met with wails and whining.
“But no one will see our costumes,” Margo complained.
Deacon held out matching purple-and-pink coats to the girls, and Clare knelt in front of Maci. “I think everyone will know what you are with the makeup and ears, and maybe you could leave your coats unbuttoned?” She looked up at Deacon. “But whatever your dad says.”
Deacon helped Margo. “I think that’s a great idea.”
With the girls dressed and the babies packed up, they drove the short distance to Clare’s old neighborhood.
It was just after seven when they hit the first house. Three carved pumpkins glowed on the front steps, and a gauzy ghost hung on the door. The girls clung to Deacon’s hands as the six of them went to the door. He gently prompted them on what to say.
The scene repeated four more times before the girls announced they could do it by themselves. They skipped up the porch steps while she and Deacon waited on the sidewalk. The crisp October night air blew softly around them, carrying the squeals of happily terrified children. The scene filled her with memories from her childhood: lugging home her pillowcase then spending hours sorting and trading with Jess and Connor.
A group of kids streaked across the sidewalk in front of them. Just one of many clumps buzzing back and forth.
She and Deacon stayed close enough behind to hear the girls’ sweet voices call “trick or treat” in unison then “thank you” before they ran back to show off their loot.
“My pumpkin’s heaby,” Maci said.
“Mine, too,” Margo said. “But it still needs more, more, more!”
With that, they skipped hand in hand to the next house.
Clare laughed. “I think she’s getting the hang of it.”
“I think you’re right. What’s better than a night you get to go door to door and people who don’t want you running on their lawn give you candy?
“So this is your old stomping ground,” Deacon said as they made their way down the oak-lined street.
“It is.” A sweet nostalgia squeezed her heart.
“I like it. A lot like my old hood.”
He laughed softly, and she glanced over at him where he pushed the stroller beside her. Light from the streetlights illuminated his smiling face. She smiled too. “What?”
“Just thinking how I used to draw these maps, strategic routes for collecting the most candy. Smarter and faster to work one side then the other.”
“I was a zig-zagger.” She took in the manic packs of goblins, cheerleaders, and superheroes. “I’m almost afraid to ask what my brother said to you.”
“Nothing I wouldn’t have said in the same situation.”
She hated that they were a situation. “And what would that be?”
“Just guy talk. I think we came to an understanding.” He called out to the girls, “Next house,” and pointed to the house next door on the same side of the street.
“And what was that?”
“That I won’t hurt you.” He looked down at her. “And I won’t.”
She didn’t at all think he would on purpose. That didn’t always mean people didn’t get hurt.
Just then, an older kid in a gruesome mask growled at the twins, making them scream and race to Deacon’s side. He carried them to the next few houses while she waited with the stroller.
As he walked back, she felt an odd thump in her chest, much like she’d felt that first night at dinner with him. And again when he smiled down at her.
No. You can’t fall for him again.
There was too much at stake. Too many little hearts to consider. But when he took her hand, she was instantly catapulted back to another time they’d walked hand in hand.
“See any people up there?” Deacon asked, glancing up at the full moon rising in the dark sky off to the right.
“Not tonight.” It felt good to laugh with him. “This kind of reminds me of walking on the beach with you.”
“Mmm. Except there’s no sand,” he said.
“True. And it was warmer.”
“And there weren’t any kids,” Deacon pointed out.
“Yeah. This is really nothing at all like walking on the beach,” she said, grinning over at him.
With a low chuckle, he looked around at all the little costumed bodies darting past. “It’s really not. But it’s nice.” He tightened his fingers around hers just a fraction.
“I think so, too.”