I breathe out, long and shaky. “They all do.”
His eyes warm. “So, we do what we can to help our community.”
“The coats,” I say, motioning around. “The treat bags. The costumes. The way you do all this without telling anyone. That is not normal. It is… good. Really, truly good. And I do not know what to do with it.”
His jaw flexes, but not because he is annoyed. “I do not do it to be good. I do it because that’s what people who can, should do.”
And somehow that is worse. Better. More. I swallow hard.
“You do it because you were raised right,” I say quietly.
He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “My mother… she used to say holidays belong to the kids who need them most.”
“And you kept that going.”
He looks down at the bags, then back at me. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
I take another breath, steadying myself because his sincerity feels like too much on an already emotional day.
“I can move these out of your way,” he offers. “Or if you want the other room, I can have Robert get it ready and take?—”
I shake my head. “No. Really. This is fine. Savannah and I will stay here.”
His eyes soften. “Good.”
There is a beat. A long one. The kind that changes things.
“Let’s see what shape the other rooms are in,” he says. He picks up Savannah’s carrier and heads that way.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Deacon
I scoopup Savannah’s carrier and weave my way through the bags filling the majority of the fourteen hundred square feet of this suite. Costello was right, I doubled what I did last year. He told me I shopped online like Drew did when she was home with the kids and not out hustling contracts for the players, she and her company agent.
“Things okay with Nalani?” I ask.
“They’re great,” she says and then clears her throat. “When Koa’s home they should have that little time to themselves.”
“I get that. Your choice though, right?” I ask knowing Koa wouldn’t pull that on anyone, but this fucking ache in my chest just got even heavier and I can’t turn it off even if I wanted to.
I open the door and see it is also packed, “Shit. I?—”
“That room you mentioned offering Paul? Would it be okay if for just tonight we stayed?”
“You know it is,” I say failing to keep this desperate tone out of my voice.
“Is it far? Do we need —”
“This used to be Dean, Drew, Cody, and the kids’ floor.” I open the door that connects the two suites. “Not far at all.”
She lingers in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself. “You’re sure?”
The fact that she’s asking that suggests something’s off.
She nods, relief softening her shoulders. “If it is okay, we can stay here. Just until the other room frees up.”
“That works,” I say, because it does. Because it keeps her close. Because for the first time, she looks like she needs a break from the world for five minutes.
