My nose started stinging with tears again.

Deacon instantly crouched and slowly lifted a hand her way, murmuring, "Yo, Boss Lady."

She sniffed his hand, her tail started wagging violently, and she jumped up on him, licking his face.

Daddy was home.

Apparently dogs didn't forget.

Boss Lady was so like me.

I hurried into the kitchen to give them their moment.

Okay, I did it so I wouldn't bawl like a baby again.

Once there, I set about making Deacon a snack.

Because, of course, he'd told me he'd made his decision to return to me, didn't waste time, so on his way, he didn't eat.

"So is his name John Priest or Deacon Gates?" Milagros demanded to know through the phone at my ear.

While Deacon was eating and bonding with Bossy, I'd put on a jacket, scarf, and gloves, took my throw out to the porch, wrapped it around my legs, and called Milagros.

Milagros wasn't very happy with my explanation that I was fine, mostly because it came with the inclusion of the fact that Deacon and I were talking (amongst other things that I didn't tell her) and working it out.

"His name is Deacon Gates," I said into the phone.

"And how is that, Cassidy?"

"Can I explain that part later?" I requested, buying time because I knew that explanation would be uncomfortable. I just hoped it wouldn't end in me losing a friend who was important to me because I'd lied to her. "And I will, I promise."

She was silent a moment before she said, "I had a bad feeling about him and I didn't say anything when he left you. I didn't remind you of that. I didn't because you didn't need reminding because he took all the life out of you and I didn't want to hurt you further. But now, his returning out of nowhere having a different name doesn't make me feel any better, even if I hear it in your voice that you have that life back."

Well, that was good to know.

I decided to go for it.

"I knew his name was Deacon before," I admitted hesitantly.

This just brought silence.

"I'm sorry. I really am," I continued quickly. "But he was it for me and he came with boundaries. Now there are no boundaries, at least that's what he says anyway. But we haven't gotten into that and we need to get into it. The only thing I can tell you now is that I had him, the real him, and you, Manuel, and the kids did too. He just used a different name."

I heard her sigh before she said, "People do many things for many reasons, and those reasons are the right reasons even if another person might think they're wrong. That other person, they do not live in those shoes."

God, she got it.

I felt extreme relief.

Then, unfortunately, she kept going.

"But with that, mi amiga, you do those things and you don't hurt people along the way. If you do, then they're not right. They're just wrong."

"I hear you."

"I hope he did what he had to do for the right reasons."

"His wife died an ugly death, Milagros." I heard her soft gasp at this news but went on, "And he feels guilt he didn't save her. He was working through that. My understanding so far is, he worked through it and came back to me."

"Dios mio," she said softly.

"Yes," I agreed. "Now, I hate to cut this short because I know you're worried but I need to get back to him. He's bonding with Bossy, and a lot has happened since he showed up, but there's a lot left to be said. We'll have a good gab soon."

"Okay, Cassidy. But I must leave you with this: the most important person in the world is you. Whatever you decide, do it taking care of you."

She was totally the bomb.

"I am. I will. I promise," I told her.

"Okay, querida. I believe you. See you soon."

"Later, Milagros."

I hit the button on the screen and put my phone down, training my eyes to the snow-gilded trees.

Now that the intensity of Deacon coming back was over and I was sitting in the cold on my porch-something I'd done alone for six months, something I didn't enjoy doing alone for six months, far from it- all that had happened, all that he'd given me, as mammoth as it was, was wearing off.

Because I was right.

There was still a lot left to be said.

I took a page out of Deacon's book when I heard the door open and I didn't turn to look. I heard his boots on the deck, as well as Bossy's claws. Then I saw a steaming mug put down on the arm of the chair as Bossy came to me and nosed my hand.

I gave her some pets and scratches, looking at the mug.

It was cocoa. Cocoa with marshmallow fluff melting on top.

I had not forgotten how Deacon could surprise me with little snatches of sweetness, like being a badass and putting marshmallow on hot cocoa (or making it at all). But I couldn't deny it felt crazy-good having it back.

"Bed, baby," I ordered Bossy, lifting up the cup.

She loped to the big dog bed I had out on the porch by the railing in front of the chairs that I'd thrown an old flannel blanket over. Her place in the cold when I was outside so she could be with me.

"She's trained." I heard Deacon say, knowing he was sitting beside me.

I took a sip of cocoa, the fluff tipping my lip. I took the cup away and licked it off.

"She knows 'sit,' 'down,' 'stay,' 'bed,' 'come,' 'quiet,' 'be good,' 'downstairs,' 'upstairs,' 'play dead,' and 'fetch,'" I shared. "She's great at fetch. She loves Frisbees."

He said nothing but I felt the heaviness that came from him, my guess, this due to the fact he wasn't there to teach her all that with me.

I drew in a breath.

Before I could ask for it, Deacon gave it to me.

"Grew up on a farm in Iowa."

I closed my eyes tight, those seven words washing over me, beating back the January chill.

"Granddad was an attorney," he went on and I opened my eyes. "Pissed as shit my dad didn't follow in his footsteps. But Dad wanted to be a farmer so he bought a farm and became a farmer. Found a woman who wanted him however he came, but regardless, she loved the life."

I took another sip of cocoa while Deacon paused and I held my cup in front of me in both my gloved hands as he carried on.

"I didn't want to be a farmer. Got a younger sister, she wasn't into that shit either. Dad was disappointed but he'd been a son who went his own way. He was also a man who wouldn't push his son to go his way because he'd been the same."

He had a sister.

I said nothing. Just took another sip.

"I played football in high school. That was back in the day when you didn't pick one sport and train all year for it, so I also threw discus and javelin in track and field. When I was sixteen, got a job roofing during the summer. Did it when I was seventeen too. Liked it. Liked being a part of building something. Fixing something. Seein' my work laid out in front of me at the end of the day. Understood it was my calling even if, at the same time, I didn't really understand what a calling was."

He paused.

I waited.

He continued.

"The man who owned the contracting company I worked for took a liking to me. Gave me a job out of high school. If I didn't take over the farm, Dad wanted me to go to college. I didn't do that either. He didn't like it but understood. I graduated on a Saturday, went to work on a Monday, moved out of his house by the end of the summer. He got it. I had to be my own man and I didn't fuck around bein' it, so he also respected it."

That was pretty amazing.

Deacon didn't give me a chance to share that.

"Guy I worked for," he kept going, "had three daughters, no sons. So when I say he took a liking to me, I mean he took me under his wing. Lookin' back, he was groomin' me to take over when he was done. Taught me everything about building, wiring, plumbing, foundation work, architecture. Learned it all on the job, but I learned it."

That was how he knew how to put up gutters, that my roof needed shingles, and how to sketch a gazebo, not having any issue building it.

There was a happy shift happening inside as all the pieces of Deacon started fitting together.

"Her name was Jeannie," he said softly and that shift halted as my stomach curled.

He didn't speak for a while and then he launched back in.

"Met her and it was all the way it was supposed to be. Every second of it. Until she went missing."

In shock at his words, my head jerked to the side to look at him. "Missing?"

He turned his eyes to me. "Yeah, Cassie. Missing."

"My God," I whispered.

"It isn't a pretty story."

He'd already said that and I knew it had to be, what with her being dead.

But now it seemed worse. I couldn't imagine anyone I loved going missing. It would drive me mad.

Yes, absolutely, all the pieces of Deacon were fitting together.

I just no longer liked the picture they were forming.

He looked back to the trees.

I did too and took another sip of cocoa, sucking in melted marshmallow fluff, making it extra sweet.

It was good I did. I didn't know it then, but I'd need sweet to get me through the rest of what Deacon was going to share with me.

"Met her in a bar," Deacon told me. "Cliche but it worked for us. She was pretty, not beautiful like you, but she definitely turned heads. Every time I looked at her, caught her lookin' at me. She looked away, but I knew she was interested. I thought it was cute because it was, pretty girl, checking me out, shy at me catching her doin' it. Made my approach, gave her some stale pickup line, she swallowed it. I asked her out. She said yes. We started dating. We became exclusive. We fell in love. I asked her to marry me. Three months later, we were married in a huge-ass wedding."

I looked his way again, surprise in my tone. "Three months?"

He looked to me. "Yeah. I was twenty-four then, didn't know jack about weddings, had no clue how rushed it was. My mom knew. Lookin' back, I think it unsettled her. At the time, I didn't think anything except about the honeymoon, gettin' my girl back home, and settin' up a life."

He looked away and lifted his boots up to the railing. Bossy lifted her head when he did, looked at him, sniffed the cold air, then settled back down.

"Did that and we had a good life," he said pensively. "She was pretty. Dressed great. Had a good job. Liked to have fun. Loved sex. Made me laugh. Let me make her laugh. Acted like, when I came through the door at night, her world started. Acted like, when I left in the morning, it was ending. Twenty-four, so fuckin' young, all I knew was I had a pretty, sweet, funny girl with my ring on her finger who felt that much for me. I felt lucky."

My throat was tingling but I fought it back with another sip of cocoa.

"Made me cookies."

My body went still at these words.

"All the time, we had homemade cookies in the house. Every kind you can think of. She didn't eat 'em. Made 'em for me because I liked 'em. Sometimes, if a build was close to her office, she'd bring me lunch with a tin of 'em for me and the boys on the job."

It was then I remembered, way back when, when I'd offered Deacon cookies.

Absolutely fucking not, he'd said.

I made a mental note not ever to make him cookies and asked, "What did she do?"

"Receptionist at a place where they contracted out to lay pipes. She made decent money, for her age, year younger than me. I made decent money. We were livin' the life. Year into our marriage, I figured it was time to take the next step. So I told her I wanted her to think about makin' a baby."

Deacon's gaze was at the trees. I slid mine there too and sipped more cocoa.

"She didn't have to think. She was all in. And we went for it. Worked at it all the time. Not hard work, tryin' to make a baby."