Caged (Mastered, #4)(94)

“Why did you ever go back?”

He rested his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. “I heard that my dad had a heart attack. By the time I’d found out—I don’t remember how that crossed my radar—it’d been a couple of months, so I knew he wasn’t dead. I showed up at his office. With the extreme change in my appearance, the receptionist refused to believe I was Bing Westerman’s son. We argued, and he came out of his office to see what the commotion was about.”

Deacon paused, letting the memory from that day solidify. His father had run toward him. Run. In his three-piece suit. And he’d wept. Openly. Repeatedly.

“What happened?”

“He hugged me. I . . . It’d been a long time since I’d had anyone touch me not out of anger, so I balked. Then he said, ‘Lemme have a look at you, son.’ I’d grown two inches, packed on forty pounds—mostly muscle—shorn my hair, and inked my skin. I honestly hadn’t expected him to recognize me.”

“What did he say when he finished inspecting you?”

“‘You erased all traces of him, didn’t you?’”

“Whoa. Did he mean you’d erased the old you? Or that you’d erased any resemblance to Dante?”

“Both, probably. I didn’t ask. Then, before it got even more awkward, he asked me to lunch. He took me to a chain barbecue joint, not the hole-in-the-wall place by his office he’d always taken us to before.” Us. God. He’d forgotten how much Dante had loved barbecue. “Anyway, I figured he’d taken me someplace where no one knew him because I embarrassed him. I made up my mind to leave right after lunch. He sensed my intention to bolt and told me he brought me there because after not seeing me for almost five years he doubted he’d taste the food anyway, so he might as well eat crap.”

“He sounds like a sweet man.”

“He can be at times.” And that did mark a big shift in their relationship. “We stayed in that booth for four hours and talked. I refused to see my mother, although I agreed he could tell her that I was all right.” Deacon’s throat felt scratchy. “Molly, darlin’, I need to get a drink.”


“I wondered if you needed one. I’ve never heard you talk so much.”

He retreated to the break room and drank a full glass of water. Then he stared at the empty cup for several long moments. How much more did she need to know?

His brother offered advice. All of it. No sense in giving her the CliffsNotes version now.

Dammit, Dante. Talking about you makes me miss you.

Well, I was the cooler twin, so I can see why. But you have the chance to let her fill part of that void I left. Figure this shit out, bro, so you can move on.

But if I move on, will you too?

No answer.

Deacon returned to the reception area and resumed his place in front of the windows.

“Better?”

“I guess.”

“Do you want keep going?”

“There’s not that much left. By the end of our lunch, Dad asked me to come to work in the family business. He offered to hire a trainer to help me advance to the next level in cage fighting.”

“What did you say?”

“No, thanks. I didn’t need him or his money, and I’d do it on my own like I’d done everything else in my life.” That’s when Dante’s voice had overtaken his thoughts. Telling him that their father shouldn’t have to pay forever for their mother’s words, which had driven him away. “It f*cking killed me to watch every bit of happiness drain from his face. So I agreed to work part-time. I found a gym and a dojo. The guy running the gym also promoted legitimate fights. I gradually shifted my focus fully to my training.”

“Is that when you fought Ronin?”

“He told you that, huh?”

Molly moved in to stand next to him. “He mentioned it was an underground and unsanctioned fight.”

“I’d started doing both and participated in enough amateur bouts to qualify as a professional fighter. After I returned to Texas, I reached second-degree black belt level and became a certified kickboxing instructor at the gym. I also added Muay Thai to my training regimen.”

“So Ronin snapped you up for Black Arts?”

Deacon turned toward her. He touched her sweet face before he tucked an escaped tendril behind her ear. “More or less. I agreed to Ronin’s six-month trial period, and I’ve been there ever since.”

Then Molly wrapped herself around him.

He closed his eyes. He wanted this—a life with her—more than anything in the world.

“Thank you for telling me. Not just what happened when you were fifteen, but all the choices you made in the aftermath.”

“How do we move on from this?” Deacon swallowed the fear crawling up his throat when Molly didn’t immediately answer.

Then she chased all those shadows and fears away by simply laying her hands on his chest, over his heart. “We promise to be open with each other about everything. Big and small.” She offered him a watery smile. “I know you claim you don’t like to talk about shit.”

“Claim? Babe. I don’t like dissecting every damn thing.”

Her eyes narrowed.

Shit. “Well, except the important stuff.”

Molly banged her forehead into his chest in mock frustration.