10
Deacon St.Claire believed in the healing properties of fluffy buttermilk pancakes and crispy bacon, there was no existential crisis that couldn’t be contained, at least temporarily, by the act of making breakfast. He hovered at the stove, spatula in one hand, the other resting with proprietary ease on the counter’s cool marble. The kitchen gleamed with the appearance of never being lived in, but already, the scent of melting butter and caramelizing batter had begun to alter the atmosphere itself.
“Sit.” Deacon’s voice carried the gentle gravity of a man who’d spent years issuing directives that were rarely ignored.
Rocco, his one-eighty-pound Rottweiler, obeyed with a huff, claws clicking against the Saltillo tile as he parked himself beside the breakfast table. Deacon tossed him a strip of bacon.
He let himself drift, for a moment in the smallness of the scene: the table settings for him and his daughter, dog, pancakes, and the snow-dusted back lawn. It was the kindof scene that his own childhood had lacked, the sort of domestic normalcy that he’d once believed was a myth conjured up by cereal commercials and holiday movies.
Yet here he was, in a small mountain town that measured status by the number of bake sales attended and how many people one could address by first name at the local coffee shop. Deacon knew he didn’t belong, and so he’d done what he always did, kept his head down and observed from a safe ten arm’s length away. It had taken him a year, after learning about Poppy and the rest of them, to make the move to Hope Falls from Seattle. And then another few months before he’d dared to make contact, and even then, he hadn’t revealed his identity. He’d been in possession of the truth—his truth, their truth, the tangled web of shared DNA—for eighteen months and had yet to share it.
Outside the window, the back guest house glowed with faint winter sunlight, a stubborn rectangle dug into the frosted yard. His sister Poppy’s domain, at least for now. Who knows what would happen when she found out the truth? Deacon was not just her employer, landlord, and, he hoped friend, he was her half-brother. That Tabby was more than just the girl she nannied for, she was her niece.
It wasn’t cowardice. Not exactly. More like a habit of caution developed over a lifetime of being watched and wanted for the wrong reasons. His earliest memories were coded with warnings: never tell anyone your real birthday, never use your full name, never let someone inside the house without three forms of ID. Even his kindergarten teacher, a sweet-faced woman with a penchant for sticker charts, had been revealed as a serial stalker who was arrested after casing the house with her ex-con boyfriend. The lesson had embedded itself somewhere deep and permanent, trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
“Breakfast is ready!” he called out as he filled Tabby’s plate with pancakes, dusted them with powdered sugar, fresh raspberries, a piece of bacon, and set them on her placemat. It was more like brunch, they’d had a slow morning.
By the time he finished filling his own plate, Tabby was at the table digging into her pancakes. He topped off his coffee and took his seat across from her. When he began to eat, his mind drifted back to the dread he had felt since he’d gotten the knock on the door yesterday.
The last person Deacon expected to find when he opened it was AJ, Poppy’s boyfriend. He’d immediately been concerned that there was something wrong with his sister, he’d recently learned she was pregnant, so that was the first place his mind went. The visit was actually to tell Deacon that AJ knew Deacon’s secret, that he was related to all of Michael Davies’ offspring, and Deacon had to tell Poppy or AJ was going to.
Things had gotten out of control. Something Deacon didn’t handle well. He hadn’t intended to infiltrate his family. All he’d planned on doing was take Tabby to get a routine MRI for her heart murmur while Poppy was working as the X-ray tech and ask her for a recommendation for a nanny to have some interaction with her and see her with Tabby, which he’d done. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought a week later he’d get a call from Poppy sayingshewanted the job because she wanted to quit and go back to school. Not only had she wanted the job, but she had great references, a medical background, an amazing rapport with Tabby already,andneeded a place to stay, which meant he would really get to know her since she’d moved into his ADU.
And that had happened, and it was amazing. She was amazing. He actually loved her. Tabby loved her. Then, outof the kindness of her heart, Poppy invited him and Tabby to go trick-or-treating with her family, which, by default, happened to behisas well. He’d gone and met Liam, Liam’s wife Frankie, and his three sisters and their husbands and kids. Tabby got along with all her cousins, not that she knew they were related.
Since he had no family, or so they thought, they graciously invited him and Tabby to celebrate Thanksgiving with them, which they’d gone to a week and a half ago. He’d planned on telling them the truth there, but some other revelations came to light. Yaya, the ninety-year-old matriarch of Liam’s wife Frankie’s family, who had lost her husband the year earlier, announced she was getting married, which was happening today. Oh and Poppy’s mom accidentally announced Poppy was pregnant. She hadn’t announced who the father was at the table, but Deacon knew it was the man staying next door, AJ Costas, because he wasn’t blind and he had a ton of security cameras.
Deacon appreciated AJ giving him the heads-up that he’d found out and coming to him man-to-man. It’s not like they were friends. Deacon explained that he’d planned on revealing who he was on Thanksgiving, but it hadn’t seemed like the time. And he hadn’t wanted to take any of the spotlight away from Yaya’s day.
After the wedding today, he’d tell Poppy and then Liam. And then he’d go and tell his three other sisters Pheobe, Paulina, and Pippa, the legitimate daughters of Michael Davies, who were the products of his marriage to Teresa Davies, a saint of a woman. She’d welcomed Liam, Poppy, and even Poppy’s mom, Kerri, into their family after Michael’s death, but Deacon hadn’t wanted to push his luck. Liam’s mother sadly passed away years ago,otherwise he was sure Teresa would have welcomed her as well.
At the time of his death, Michael was still married to Teresa, still living as a “faithful,” loving, family man. Now, some ten years after they’d buried him, he still had kids crawling out of the woodwork. Deacon feared that his existence would just be a source of pain, which was the last thing he wanted.
He’d been so careful with his decision to move, approaching his siblings with due diligence, just like he was about everything in his life—so measured…but not with Jen. That night none of his rules, or his guidelines mattered. The only thing that mattered washer.
And look where it got him. She was gone in the morning. He’d watched her leave on the security footage. She’d looked like she was running from something. Like something was chasing her. She’d pressed the down button a hundred times before the elevator arrived, and when she got on, she was hyperventilating.
He’d seen her on the cameras with Martin and asked what their conversation had been. He’d hesitated to relay it, but the upshot was she didn’t want a car, she did not want to leave her name or number, she did not want Deacon’s information, she didn’t want see him again. She just wanted to leave.
Deacon spent hours, days, weeks, possibly months over the past year and a half trying to figure out what had happened in the hours after she fell asleep in his arms, to her panicking and leaving like she was terrified of something. He’d wanted so badly to follow up. To find out who she was. To do some digging, but Martin said she made it very clear she didnotwant him to do that. So, he’d respected her wishes.
It killed him. But he’d respected her wishes.
“Daddy!” Tabby shouted his name in a way that let him know it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention.
It probably wasn’t. He zoned out a lot thinking about Jen. A lot more than he wanted to admit considering she was a woman he spent twelve hours with eighteen months ago who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
“Is Poppy coming over today?”
“Nope. Today is Saturday.”
“What is Poppy doing today?”
“I don’t know,” he lied.
She was going to Yaya’s wedding, but if Tabby heard the wordweddingshe’d be asking why they weren’t going. Ever since she watched the movieEnchanted,she’d been obsessed with the idea ofhimgetting married. Not just getting married. She wanted him to get married to a princess, of course.
In the movie Patrick Dempsey’s character was a single dad with a daughter around Tabby’s age, and it must have hit close to home with her. She asked to watch it almost every day. It’d been a nice break from her favorite, favorite movie,Finding Nemo. He’d probably watchedFinding Nemoa thousand times.
