Chapter 1
If Fucking Only
Jenny
I arrived early, my heart beating double time from walking down the poorly lit street leading to The Loose Moose by myself.
I walked in with my chin up and my eyes down and chose a table as far from the door as I could get. The dimmer lighting at the back of the bar offered the illusion of shelter.
And I was clinging hard to my illusions.
I’d never done that, not once in the entire time I’d lived in Moose Lake had I ever walked into The Loose Moose and taken a table by myself.
Especially not at this time of night.
After stuffing my mittens into the deep pockets of my long, puffy, winter coat, I hung it over the back of my seat and sat down. With my back to the wall, I could see the whole restaurant and bar.
And they could see me.
There would be no escaping the gossip, but I could cut down the size of the audience by taking myself off centre stage.
I should have offered to meet in Peppergrove. By the time I realized my mistake, he was gone.
And I wasn’t about to call his mother to track him down.
At least The Loose Moose felt familiar if not entirely welcoming without Miller, who I’d known forever, and his wife Maxine here with me.
The Loose Moose’s claim to fame were their burgers and the massive set of moose antlers mounted over the massive fireplace that confirmed its early status as a hunting lodge.
The sight of a bra or two hanging off the antler’s base was common. Though no one ever confessed to doing it, I had my suspicions.
A few plush chairs and a large, comfortable, perpetually occupied couch sprawled next to the hearth.
At some point The Loose Moose expanded from a simple hunting lodge to a full-size diner. Two demolished walls accommodated the addition of a full kitchen and dining room. By the time the long, sleek, mahogany bar joined the mix, the slap-dash was too far gone to reel it into any kind of style.
With the hodgepodge of additions reflecting each period of its storied history, The Loose Moose was an atmosphere rather than a distinct aesthetic.
I knew every single person in there and felt the weight of more than one person’s curious, albeit fleeting, gaze.
My hands shook the way they did when I made my first oral presentation in grade four. My indoor running shoes had given up the ghost, boots weren’t allowed in the classroom, and my sock had a ragged hole in the toe.
I tucked my hands into the sleeves of my over-sized knit sweater now, much like I had once tucked that shamefully exposed toe under my other foot. Then I went to town, mentally berating myself for agreeing to meet the man who still haunted my dreams after all these years.
Deacon Raine.
I met him at the farmer’s market. I had taken over my mother’s shift at the last minute. She’d worked for his family’s farm for years, along with two others. It wasn’t uncommon for her schedules to overlap.
At twenty-six to his twenty-one, I shouldn’t have looked at him twice.
Tall and leanly muscled with black silky hair falling over his forehead, he was every young woman’s dream. If I was to hazard a guess, he starred in a few older women’s fantasies too.
His dark chocolate eyes, twinkling with curiosity and mischief, enchanted me. But it was his silver tongue that kept me wrapped up in him all morning.
Five years younger, raised in a family as traditional as mine was not, loved by both his parents, and given every possible advantage including a fully funded university education, he was my polar opposite.
I dismissed the possibility of him and me developing into an us before it consciously entered my mind.
Perhaps it was that, along with my surprise at the fervor with which he pursued me, that allowed him to slip under my guard.
He swept me up in a romantic daydream, but I owned the blame for everything that came next. At twenty-six, I knew better than to believe in Cinderella dreams.
And here I was again, falling all over myself as soon as he snapped his fingers.
I consoled myself with the fact that he had once again taken me by surprise, this time by showing up at the bakery just as I locked up.
The whole meeting lasted all of thirty seconds. By the time I’d gathered my wits, he was driving away.
I hadn’t even known he was home.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been back, but it was the first time we’d come face-to-face.
Thank God.
Because the last time he’d been back, the grapevine was all ablaze that their hometown hero brought his wife home to meet the family.
I shuddered and pushed the memory away.
Mesmerized by his sudden appearance and the harsh changes in the face I’d so loved, my blood roaring in my ears, I missed most of what he said. Before I knew what hit me, I’d agreed to meet him for dinner at The Loose Moose.
At the moment, I thought it was our only option because I wasn’t about to let him into my safe space.
That was mine, mine and Ansel’s.
I contemplated spewing out the whole story right there on the sidewalk in the cold, bright light of day, but I couldn’t do it.
I’d waited so long to redeem myself; I deserved the time to explain properly without the risk of someone hearing all the gory details.
And, God, how I longed for him to comfort me now the way he didn’t back then. I had to give him that chance for my own sake. For the Jenny of ten years ago who still cried sometimes in the dark of the night.
I folded my hands on the table in front of me to brace myself. Only the tips of my fingers poked out of my sleeves as I shrank under the weight of far too many eyes.
While most everyone in Moose Lake knew bits and pieces of my story, and some even knew the truth, only Ansel knew all of it.
They’d have a field day when Deacon walked in.
The whole world would know by Tuesday.
Chin tipped down, eyes closed, I worked to slow my breathing, readying myself for a confrontation I’d long since lost hope in ever having.
When the chair across from me scraped across the floor, my head snapped up. At the sight of Deacon’s icy expression, I hissed in a sharp breath and slammed back in my chair.
In the dim light, his warm brown eyes were as black and cold as obsidian. A heavy five o’clock shadow covered his sharp jaw, and the mouth that smiled and laughed and kissed like a god now pressed into a thin, angry line.
Even his silky hair was gone, now cropped close to his scalp, every scrap of boyish joy banished.
Whatever had happened in the past decade, it had sucked all the light out of this man.
I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering in the presence of this cold, icy stranger who looked nothing like the boy I’d loved.
He didn’t even look like the man who showed up at my bakery a few short hours ago.
I wouldn’t have agreed to meet if he’d been in such a mood. Butterflies, not the good kind, took flight in my stomach. My peace was important to me. Not even unloading the truth was worth giving up a mere ounce of it.
I swallowed my trepidation. Voice husky, I asked, “Is something wrong?”
Looming over me, one large hand braced on the table between us, I realized just how much he’d filled out in the years we’d been apart, and I shrank back further.
Thickly muscled where he used to be whip-lean, he was also broader across the shoulders, deeper through the chest, and had the heavily muscled thighs of a soldier instead of the runner he used to be.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he slid his large frame into the chair.
It was short-lived.
He levelled me with a hard, emotionless stare that pressed against my battered heart like a thumb into a bruise. “I shouldn’t be wasting my time here,” he stated.
I shrugged, my cheeks heating. “Then leave.”
The mask dropped, his lip curling as he snarled, “If fucking only.”
The tiny flame of hope he had ignited in my heart when he showed up at Buns and Biscuits sputtered out.
I fought the well of tears building up in my eyes as the anxiety that forever danced on the periphery of my world flared to life. “Why are you here, Deacon?”
I stumbled over the syllables of his name; I hadn’t spoken it aloud since he left me.
“Because I’ve never been able to get you out of my head,” he stated bluntly, his face once more impassive and his deep voice even despite his harsh words. “You’re like a fucking poison in my veins.”
I moved to stand, my hands shaking as my shattered heart quaked. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
“Fuck,” he snapped, rising with me. He closed his eyes for a second, then reached out a hand to block my exit. “I’m sorry. I told myself I’d hear you out if you agreed to talk to me.” His chest rumbled. “I need to put the past to rest.”
We faced off against one another until he dropped his arm.
He rubbed a calloused hand over the heavy shadow covering his sharp jaw.
I moved to grab my coat just as my old crew filled the doorway, blocking my exit.
I stepped back abruptly. This was another possibility I should have taken into account when I agreed to meet here.
Instead of walking out like I desperately wanted to, I dropped back into my seat and ducked my head as Miller, Eric, John, and their respective wives barreled through and grabbed a table. When, so wrapped up in their laughter, we escaped their notice, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Seeing you this afternoon brought it all back,” he admitted.
My gaze skittered frantically over the table in front of me as I wracked my brain for an escape route. Thank God Baxter wasn’t with them. My eyes widened at the thought. That was a confrontation I didn’t need tonight.
Or ever.
“Jenny?”
I blew out a slow breath, my heart racing faster at the sound of my name on his lips. “You’re not the only one who was hurt,” I stated quietly, shifting my chair to the right to use his large body as a visual barricade. “But I’m the only one who didn’t do anything wrong.”
His eyebrows crashed together at my words.
He snorted and opened his mouth to retort but at that moment, the waitress stopped at our table to take our order.