“Oh no.” Deacon dropped the snowball, though it was obviously on purpose, but since Derek faced the other way, he couldn’t see. Deacon probably loved the chase but didn’t want to actually hit his son.
Derek turned around and grinned at the newfound opportunity.
Deacon kneeled and quickly tried to roll a snowball.
“Ha!” Derek grabbed a handful of snow and dumped it on his father’s head, coating him like an avalanche had just struck.
“You little butthead.” Deacon quickly rolled a snowball.
Derek sprinted to me, running as fast as he could over the disheveled snow mounds. “Cleo!”
Deacon sprinted after him.
Derek got behind me, hanging on to my legs. “Save me, Cleo!”
I recorded Deacon running over the mounds, having an easier time because of his height, a snowball in his grasp. “There’s nothing I can do, Derek. We’re both done for.”
Deacon smirked slightly as he looked at me, slowing down while his hand held the ball of snow.
“Come on, Dad,” Derek said as he poked out from behind me. “You wouldn’t hurt Cleo, right?”
He sighed and let the snowball roll off his fingertips. “You’re lucky she’s here to protect you.”
Derek squeezed my legs with a hug. “Thank you, Cleo.”
I chuckled, still recording.
Deacon moved into me, and his arms circled my waist as he gave me a kiss, his lips cold from the snow that had hit his face. But everything else was warm, like the way he hugged me, the way he made me feel loved. He tugged me closer as he kissed me, like his need to love me made him forget Derek was right there…or he just didn’t care.
“Ew…” Derek trailed away.
Deacon rubbed his nose against mine before he pulled back, looking at me with that old happiness he used to display all the time, like there wasn’t a single thing he would change about his life—everything was perfect. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” The phone was in my grasp, and the video kept rolling.
“You’re gross.” Derek threw a snowball at the back of his father’s head.
I chuckled, seeing the snow splash across his shoulders.
Deacon turned away from me and stared down at his son.
I lifted the phone and continued to record.
“Okay,” Deacon said. “Now it’s time for me to teach you a lesson.”
I lay on the couch in front of the fire with Derek beside me, an open picture book in his lap. It was about dragons and other mythical creatures. He read aloud to me, like he wanted to show me how well he could read.
Deacon was in the armchair in front of the fire, drinking his beer as he watched us together, the flames highlighting the angles of his handsome face. Instead of watching the fire, he watched us, never taking his eyes off us.
When Derek got too tired, the book slowly slid from his hands and flattened against his chest. His lips parted, and he fell into a deep sleep, his hand falling over the edge and dangling to the floor.
Deacon grinned slightly, watching his son fall asleep in my arms. “I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.” He set his beer down then walked to us on the couch. He kneeled, delicately slipped his arms underneath Derek’s small body, and then lifted him as he rose to his feet. “I’m gonna put this little butthead to bed…”
I chuckled. “Alright.”
He carried him upstairs.
I sat up on the couch, wearing one of Deacon’s sweaters and his sweatpants because it was just more comfortable than the things I’d brought. My bag was on the floor beside the coffee table, so I fished out the small box inside.
Deacon returned minutes later, like there hadn’t been a good-night conversation because Derek was out cold. He was in sweatpants loose on his hips and a long-sleeved shirt, covering more skin than usual, but still sexy, nonetheless. “You want to go to bed?” He moved to the seat beside me.
“What about the fire?”
“I can wait for it to go out.”
“No.” I stared at the flames for a while before I turned to him. “We’ll go together.” The nerves suddenly got to me. I was nervous when I shouldn’t be. It was just so important to me, and if it didn’t go the way I hoped, I was afraid of getting hurt. But this was Deacon…he would never hurt me.
He watched me for a few seconds, noticing the change in my mood without my saying a single word. “What is it, baby?” He didn’t notice the box on the coffee table because it blended in with the wood pretty well.
“Well…” I grabbed it and rotated it with my fingers. “I wanted to give this to you.” After losing him and then experiencing that difficult Thanksgiving, I knew he was the only man I would ever feel this way about. Even if we couldn’t make it work someday, my feelings for him would never change. I handed him the box.