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Angel’s number blared on the screen.
I answered. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Her sweet voice blew gently on my ears. “I called when I figured Reid would be asleep.”
“He’s out like a light.”
“How is he?”
“Back to normal. A little more energetic than usual.”
“You know, I really admire you for staying home and taking care of him. Not many fathers do that. It’s very demanding.”
“More demanding than anything I’ve ever done.”
She paused. “More demanding than your old job?”
“Yes.”
She sighed. “I still can’t get used to the thought of you being that type of man.”
“I’m not anymore. Taking those last two targets with Rhia underlined the fact that I’ve changed. I want to be someone who fosters life, not brings death.”
“I’m trying,” she said softly, “to trust you again.”
My heart pounded. “That’s more than I deserve, Angel.”
“Look, I’ve… got to go. I slipped away from my mom to call you, but Dad’s coming home tonight and they need me to help.”
“Of course. You should go.” I took a chance and added, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Okay,” I said victoriously.
She hung up.
I went to bed with a smile on my face and a promise to woo Angel until she never thought of leaving my arms again.
42
Angel
Talking to Deacon started out as a once-a-day occurrence. Short calls. Mostly at night. We spoke about Reid and what he’d done that day or about the kids at the community center and how they were stressing me out.
The calls were then joined by good-morning texts.
Good-morning-texts turned to frequent texts throughout the day, mostly Deacon saying something romantic—how he missed me, that he was thinking of me, that I was beautiful and that he loved me.
Every time I saw those messages, my heart skipped a beat.
Without fail.
Who’d have thought that such a big and brusque guy could be such a sap?
I’d never been pursued the way Deacon was pursuing me.
It was intentional, honest and breathtaking.
