40. Grace

January 10, 1983

Tails,

We did it! My team won the final trial, and I made it out of there in one piece for you. Now, I know you've been pretending not to worry, so I hope Luca told you when he returned.

Even better, Stone is headed to work with the pack. At least I know I have someone there who I can trust. Luca can show him the ways, and he can keep you out of trouble. Yes, you, ma"am. Your southern charm doesn't fool me for a second. You have a quick wit and a hero complex that will get you in trouble when it comes out.

If you're reading this letter, I know you have met him. See why I call him Cap? He's as much a do-gooder kitten rescuer as you are. Pro tip: He loves banana nut bread. He would eat a whole loaf while he was here. They remind him of his mom. If you find time, maybe let Bernadette know.

Hopefully, the two of you can help each other get through the six months until I return, and then we can decide where to end up. Marcus can lead, you and I can start our family, and give my mother the babies she seems so impatient about. I can't wait for our lives together.

Use this address to write, but know the packhouse mail is monitored by one of the enforcers in Miami. Don't reveal any of our plans, don't include gifts, and keep them simple.

The phone lines are also tapped.

Always remember that I love you more than the stars in the sky, the freckles on your skin, and the number of breaths left in my lungs.

Where was I on missing you…

36: I miss my faded gray jacket. The one you stole sophomore year and never returned.

37: I miss the sound of the pages as you turn them while you read.

38: I miss the way your uniform sits right below your beautiful ass, so inviting while you flit around the diner.

39: I miss the way your fingers feel interlocked with mine.

40: I miss your confidence that we can do all this. I wish I had more of it as this six-month stretch starts.

I miss you, Tails—all of you.

Don't let Professor Levitt overwork you. He never grades the essays anyway.

Smile. Laugh. I need to know you are finding joy.

Yours always,

Deacon

XX

Ps. Cap agreed to take you to the signing in March. Get a disposable camera so I can feel like I'm there!

Iwipe the errant tear off my cheek after reading Deacon's latest letter for the tenth time. My heart feels full having his words in front of me. Six months is long, but The Fates know what they are doing. They wouldn't present this challenge to us if they didn't think we could handle it.

For the first time in a week, I don't request an extra shift, and instead, I head to the store for the ingredients I'll need to make banana nut bread.

I can't remember the last time I baked at home.

A quick cursory glance at the pantry shows we haven't been shopping in a while, and I note some of the basic things we need. A pang of guilt hits, knowing my dad hasn't had a good meal in a few days.

I get most of my meals from the diner, and I used to spend my off time with Deacon eating at the pack house, but it doesn't feel right hanging around without him.

The only thing we aren't out of is alcohol, which fills an entire shelf in the fridge.

That's the only reason Dad hasn't complained.

Straightening, I grab my purse and head out the door. Some days, I wish my mom was strong enough to stick around. I understand why she left us—Dad wasn't the man she married—but her absence meant I had to pick up the pieces of him—a job I never signed up for.

I love my dad. I still hold onto the memories of when he used to take us on surprise picnics or build a tent in our yard for "camping" human style. He once burned a marshmallow so bad we couldn"t get it off the stick, and that charred limb became a staple on all of our adventures.

I don't think it's come out of the closet since we moved here.

My mother couldn't handle the shell my dad became when he lost his place in the pack. She loved him for his position, not the man behind it. Now, I come home every night and turn off the old television while he snores from his rundown recliner, reeking of the day"s consumption of his favorite beer.

When I have the energy to fight him, I force a shower or coax a run for his wolf, leading us to the nearby stream.

It's not a permanent fix, but it"s working for now. I know he will find his strength again in time. He just needs purpose, and I don't have an answer right now.

When Luca takes over, maybe he will find a place.

Deacon and I used to talk about how it would all work once we left, with my dad finding a new home in Luca's inner circle.

I can only hope Luca will find compassion to see past the man he has become and give him a chance—one Giovanni never even considered. He saw my dad as used-up trash from another pack. Why would Giovanni Marlo want their scraps if they didn"t want him?

He welcomed him into the pack but never allowed him into the pack hierarchy.

The chime on the grocery store door pulls me out of my inner dialogue and has me checking the list I brought with me.

"Hey, Gracie!" Brenda says from her checkout lane as I walk in.

I give her a wave but keep walking. Brenda's a regular at Mel's. She and her husband, Benny, come at least twice a week. They are kind people, but they are human, so they remain completely oblivious to the world around them.

I spent nearly an hour filling my cart with the supplies for the bread and some premade meals my dad would need to survive.

Frozen dinners may not be much, but on my waitressing paycheck, it's what I can afford to spend.

Once I have everything I need, I head back to Brenda to check out, putting on my customer service smile as I approach.

"My oh my, you are stocking up this trip. How's your daddy doing?"

For the last year, I've told people he's fallen ill, which honestly isn't exactly a lie, but it keeps social services away and limits the questions as to why he"s never shown up to a performance or award at school. Why hasn't he driven me to work on rainy days or picked me up to make sure I make it home after a late shift?

Medical issues shut people up because they don't really want to help; they are just nosy.

"He's doing a bit better this week, Brenda. Thank you for askin'. I'm hoping the new blood pressure meds help get him back on his feet," I lie easily, bagging my items efficiently to minimize the interaction.

"Well, I'm sure glad to see you are okay after that incident at the diner with those boys last night," she continues, and my attention peaks.

Did she notice anything…supernatural?

"Oh yes, they can get out of hand. I probably apologized to Pete ten times about the broken dishes. I can be so clumsy sometimes." After the last item is scanned, I take out my wallet to pay.

"It seems that new kid is a bit of a troublemaker. Gregory told Benny this morning that he comes from a troubled past. You make sure you keep your wits about you with that one. Now that I think of it, where has that boyfriend of yours been? The broody one with the motorcycle?"

What is it about older women? They think they can ask anything!

"He's off on an internship with a company in Florida. He won't be back for a few months, but I will be sure to ‘keep my wits' as you say. Thank you so much, Brenda."

The fake cheer I put in my tone does the trick, and I can return to the house.

"Where you been, girl?" my dad growls out as I enter the house. Half awake, he pulls another beer from the icebox before coming over and kissing the top of my head. I hold my breath to keep from breathing him in. When I was little, I loved his woodsy scent, but this unwashed alcohol seeping from his pores is enough to make me cough if I'm not careful.

"Just got us some groceries, Pops," I say, aiming for cheery but somehow missing the mark.

"I was gonna go this week, honest Gracie." His face is apologetic, and I know deep down he wants that to be true, so I play into his lie.

"I had to stop anyway for a school bake sale," I finish before loading the rest of the items into the cupboard. "Wanna go for a run with me tonight? I bet I can beat you to the old stump," I challenge, hoping he will take the bait. His eyes soften, and he looks almost lost in thought as he answers.

"Not tonight, Gracie, maybe tomorrow," he turns, taking the silver can with him.

"I'm going to hold you to that, Pops," I say over my shoulder without stopping my progress.

Not making meals here means at least the kitchen is still relatively tidy, so I grab my mixing bowls and get to work.

Maybe six months isn't so long after all.