In fact, I’d never tell them about Deacon. I’d never tell anyone about Deacon. Not just because I didn’t know what to say because I didn’t understand why I was feeling all I was feeling, but because I knew down to my soul he wouldn’t want me to breathe a word about him to anybody.

That was the last thing I had to give him, I was going to give it.

“I’ll let you know,” I said to Milagros.

“That’d be good,” she replied.

I tucked the sheets close and gave her a small wave.

She waved back and turned to the machine.

I walked the sheets up to my shed, where there was a large industrial washer and dryer that I used to do the laundry for the cabins. I shoved the sheets in, filled the detergent and fabric softener slots to the max, squirted in the gel bleach, and set it to going.

Then I went to my house, sucking in a breath and holding it as I opened my door, eyes to the ground, sure I’d see the key to cabin eleven there.

Deacon’s Suburban was gone when I’d walked down to the cabins, which meant Deacon was gone. But he wouldn’t leave without giving me back my key. And if I were him, I’d avoid me doing it, as in, wait until I left the house before shoving it through the slot and disappearing forever.

My breath came out in a soft gush when I saw there was no key.

He’d told me when he’d checked in that he was going to be here for five days.

He couldn’t mean to stay the whole visit after all that had gone down.

Could he?

And if he did, would that mean in a month or three or eight he’d come back and take us back to the way we were? I’d see him at check in, he’d shove his key though the slot as his way of checking out?

He’d said we’d changed.

Now I was wondering what that meant.

But I couldn’t think about that. Thinking about that would drive me crazy. Or to the bourbon. Or to bed to sob myself to oblivion and I had stuff to do and comforters to clean.

I had to think of other things and luckily I ran my own business so I had a bazillion other things to think about.

I dealt with about five of those, namely checking e-mails, confirming bookings that came in, handling my calendar, dealing with a cancellation, and looking up the phone number to Vista Real Condos.

I called it and asked to be put through to Annabelle and Peyton’s unit, just to see if they were okay. Reception rang me through but there was no answer.

I disconnected, deciding not to leave a voicemail and instead get in my Rover and drive there to check on them in person.

I made this decision when a knock came on the door.

I looked toward the foyer.

It couldn’t be Milagros. Shampooing rugs and furniture took forever and the woman was a neat freak. Although the boys cleaned that cabin, she’d go over it again until you could eat off the floors.

Maybe it was another renter or someone who saw the sign and pulled in, thinking correctly: a night at Glacier Lily was just the thing. This didn’t happen often, I mostly rented through bookings, but it happened.

I pulled myself out of the chair, walked into the foyer, and stopped dead.

This was because I could see Deacon’s big body in my front door window silhouetted by the late morning sun behind him and partially obscured by my filmy curtains.

My heart pulsed hard in my chest and my mind was warring with being annoyed he was dragging this crap out (and I didn’t know him but that didn’t seem very…him) and being overjoyed that I’d see him one last time.

Leave it to Deacon to check out in person the only time I wouldn’t want him to do just that.

I pulled myself together, walked to the door, unlocked it, opened it, and looked up into his impassive but impossibly good-looking face, wishing in that second he’d taken me on the table with the lights on so I could watch him do it.

I did all this opening my mouth to say something.

I again got nothing out.

He moved into me and I was forced to move back.

The thing was, he kept moving. He didn’t stop, grunt something, and hand me my key then exit the premises immediately (this being what I imagined Deacon’s form of good-bye would be).

I turned to watch him move and saw he had a brown paper bag, the top rolled over and clenched in his fist, and he was heading to my kitchen.

Stunned silent by this, I closed the door and followed him.

I stopped two feet into my kitchen to see him at the table, the table where he’d fucked me.

Seeing him standing there, the sun coming in the windows subdued by the trees around my house, and doing it like he’d done it thousands of times before, I remained stunned silent.

So did he (though without the stunned part) but he didn’t do it immobile. He was unrolling the top of the bag he’d put on my table.

I watched him wondering what was going on.

Did he buy groceries?

His head turned slightly, not fully, so it was really just his eyes that slid to me.

“Cassidy. Here.”

Here?

Was he summoning me?

I was too dazed by what was happening to retort. Instead, my feet moved slowly and I went there. I stopped two feet away. He was reaching into the bag.

He came out with a black can that looked like insect repellant but with a much bigger trigger.

“Pepper spray,” he stated and my eyes shot to his. “Keep it somewhere out of the way but somewhere you can get to it. Shake it to make it live. Aim. Shoot. Do not do that in an enclosed space or against the wind. It will not incapacitate somebody but it will slow them down. Shoot it, get the fuck away.”

I stared at him but he didn’t stare at me. I heard the can hit the table and he was back to digging in the bag.

My eyes drifted down and I saw him come out with three smaller canisters that were silver with black tops. He lined them up on the table by the big black can.

“Same thing,” he stated and I looked back to him. “Smaller. One for your nightstand. One for your purse. One for somewhere around the house. These expire in a year. When they do, dispose of them carefully and replace them.”

“I…uh…” I stammered. “Okay.”

He dipped his chin sharply to acknowledge my agreement and went back to the bag.

He came out with a box.

“Taser,” he said. “Keep it charged. Keep it in easy reach but also out of the way. Two prongs will release, both will give a jolt but if only one reaches your target, it might take him down but it won’t take him out. You get him, keep your finger on the trigger three seconds then drop the gun and haul ass.”