Well, that provided quite a visual.
Carys: Yeah. I’ll let you get back to your date.
Deacon: And I’ll let you get back to your bubbly.
Carys: Thanks for checking in.
Deacon: Enjoy the rest of your night.
Carys: My imagination will be running wild, thinking about you being forced to crochet at gunpoint.
Deacon: It’s not that bad. But close.
My finger lingered over the keypad. I wanted so badly to tell him he should stop by when he got back. But I thought better of it.
Then he texted again.
Deacon: Okay. I’ll tell you real quick. When I was sixteen, I was acting up, getting into trouble. My parents made me live with my grandmother for the summer. All I was allowed to do was go to football practice and come back to her house. At the time, she was crocheting clothes for families in need. Sweaters, scarves, stuff like that for the upcoming winter. She made me learn how to do it. Forced me to sit down with her every night and help.
I couldn’t contain the smile on my face.
Carys: Wow. That’s sweet.
Deacon: At the time, I was pretty fucking miserable. But when we delivered the items we made, and I got to see the smiles on those kids’ faces, it didn’t seem so bad anymore.
Carys: That’s an awesome story.
Deacon: Take it to the grave, Kincaid. I can’t let a rumor about me crocheting with an old lady ruin my game.
Carys: You got it. LOL
Deacon: Okay. Really going now.
Carys: Have a good night.
Deacon: You too.
He closed out our exchange with three little celebration hat emojis, and I wanted to slap myself for being happy that he “wasn’t feeling” his date. He’d been thinking of me tonight.
CHAPTER 5
Deacon
WHAT GOES IN MUST COME OUT
I knew today was Carys’s first day of her new job. Over the past few weeks, she’d interviewed a ton of people about watching Sunny. She’d finally found a woman she liked—a retired daycare worker looking for something to keep herself occupied, and who didn’t require a set schedule.
I’d gotten up at 5AM and gone to the gym, grabbing Starbucks on the way back so I could drop one off for Carys before she had to leave for work. Even if she’d already had her coffee, an extra might not hurt today.
Holding the cardboard tray, I knocked on her door.
She opened, and it was clear from her face that something was wrong.
“What’s going on?”
Her voice was shaky. “Sharon, the woman who was supposed to be watching Sunny today, just called. Her husband is having problems breathing, and she had to take him to the emergency room. She’s not going to be able to come.” A tear fell down her cheek. “This is my first day, and I’m already flaking out.” She blew out a breath. “I’m done, Deacon. So done.”
Shit. “The agency couldn’t provide you with anyone else?”
“Not on such short notice. I’m supposed to leave in ten minutes.” She shook her head. “I’m just gonna have to explain the situation to Cynthia and see if she can extend my start date by a day. But honestly, if I were her, I’d tell me not to bother coming in tomorrow.”
This made me angry; it wasn’t fair. Carys had all of her ducks in a row. This wasn’t her fault. She needed this PR gig, and might not ever find something so perfect again.
She didn’t know it, but she and I were kindred spirits. I knew full well what it was like to have to redefine your life. Finding something that gave you a purpose after losing your entire world meant everything.
A voice inside my head urged me to offer help, even though it was way out of my comfort zone. It took several seconds for my fear to step aside.
Although I was probably completely crazy, I refused to let her fail. “You think you can teach me everything I need to know about watching Sunny in ten minutes?”
She looked up as my words registered. Her eyes went wide. “I can’t let you do that, Deacon.”
“Come on. We’re wasting time. We know I have the holding thing down. What else do I need to know?”
She just stood there in shock.
It was up to me to push things forward. “Show me how to change her diaper.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes. Let’s go. You don’t want to be late.”
She picked Sunny up out of her playpen and led the way to the baby’s room.
Seeming discombobulated, Carys did the best she could to demonstrate the diaper-changing process.
Her words came out rushed. “You roll the dirty one up in a ball like this and put it right in the basket.”
“Easy enough,” I said calmly, though the diaper thing freaked me out.
“This one was just pee, but if it were poop, you’d lift her legs up sort of like this and use the wipes to clean her. I still use one wipe to clean her after pee, though.” She demonstrated the process of wiping Sunny’s chubby bottom, front to back.