“I don’t mean her. Milagros, Manuel, the kids, I’ll make that good again. Bust my ass to do it. You need it. I need it. They’re part of you, a part of what you gave me that made me feel clean again. But that’s not what I mean. I mean Jeannie.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“Cassidy, what I’m sayin’ is, you wanna make cookies, you make ’em for you and for me.”

Sheesh, he could so read me.

He kept going.

“She does not control me, not anymore. She sure as fuck doesn’t control you, not ever again. I let you go, let. I could have kept you but I let that shit happen. Raid told me when a man is burned by a woman, he gets over it and moves on. When he burns a good woman, he doesn’t. What I didn’t get is that I got burned, and not by a good woman, by a troubled one who I allowed to drag me down. And I had to find it in me to let her go because of that. Not you. It took a while for it to penetrate, but I finally figured out I would never be able to let you go because you weren’t what I wanted for a good life, like Jeannie. You were what I needed.”

Oh God.

He had to stop.

He didn’t stop.

“But I could let her go. I had that power. She was dead. It was me givin’ her the power to hold on. So I let her go. Now we live our lives. We live ’em good. We live ’em happy. She dragged me down for years.” His hand gave me a squeeze. “Now I’m back at the surface, baby. With you. And she’s gone.”

My smile was shaky, but happy, when I gave it to him, nodding.

He stroked my cheek with his thumb. “Your folks pissed at me?”

My smile faded when I kept nodding.

“I’ll fix that too,” he muttered.

I believed him.

Totally.

“Can I ask you something?” I requested.

“Anything.”

Anything.

My smile came back as a small grin. Then I took a deep breath.

“The thirty-eight women…” I said, trailing off.

“Few before Jeannie, most of them after she died. Lookin’ back, I was subconsciously tryin’ to find my way back to clean. None of them did it for me. So, as you know, I quit lookin’.”

“I get that.”

“Good,” he murmured.

“And the non-PDA?” I went on.

“What?”

“You don’t touch me much in public, Deacon. You’re very affectionate but not when other people are around.”

“You want that?”

“Well…yeah. If it’s in you to give.”

“I’ll give it to you.”

“But did you not do it because—?”

“I didn’t do it because, my hands on you, that tended to lead to something.”

I stared at him. “I’m pretty sure you can control your base instincts.”

“I can. But my dick has a mind of its own around you. Don’t need to be fightin’ gettin’ hard while a ten-year-old kid is interrogatin’ me about my life.”

“Oh,” I mumbled, getting it.

“Or when I’m walkin’ down the aisle in a grocery store.”

I started grinning.

Deacon watched my mouth, muttering, “I see she gets me.”

“I get you.”

His eyes came to mine. “I’ll get over that, woman, I get used to you.”

He was teasing.

“Then I’ll have to keep giving it to you good so you don’t,” I retorted.

His thumb slid over my lips again with his eyes watching as he said, “She likes me hard.”

“Absolutely.”

His eyes came back to mine and they were dancing.

I leaned in and touched my lips to his.

When I pulled back, I asked, “When’s your birthday?”

“September thirtieth,” he answered instantly.

That would have washed over me too, in a happy way, but it didn’t (well, it did, just that I was shocked).

“Seriously?”

His brows drew together. “No boundaries,”

I couldn’t believe this.

He knew it. I knew when he growled, “Not lyin’, woman.”

“Baby,” was all I could get out.

“What?” he clipped.

I wanted to start giggling.

I didn’t.

Instead, I said, “That’s my birthday too.”

He stared. Then he grinned.

And all was right in the world.

“No shit?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Meant for me, Cassie,” he murmured. “I know ’cause eight years from the day God put me on earth, he put you here for me.”

He was so wrong.

“No,” I disagreed. “Eight years before I got to this earth, he put you here for me.”

His eyes started dancing again before that light faded and his expression got serious.

“Got one more thing to ask of you.”

“Shoot.”

He took his hand from my jaw to wrap his arm around me again and both held me close.

“Need you to talk to someone about watchin’ Glacier Lily. Need to go to Iowa, see my folks, mend what I broke, and when I do, I want you to be with me.”

Yes.

Yes.

It was back.

I felt glee.

“I’m there whenever you’re ready,” I replied immediately.

“Fuck, I love you,” he returned on a powerful arm squeeze.

“Love you more.”

“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.