Chapter 1 #2
His mouth snapped shut, the muscle in his jaw feathering.
As if he hadn’t been about to flay the skin from my bones, he glanced up at me and casually asked, “The usual?”
I nodded, struck dumb that he remembered.
As he gave our order, the front door opened, admitting first Maggie, then Baxter.
I fixed my eyes to Deacon’s face as my stomach plummeted to my feet before shooting back up like a boomerang.
I was living my worst nightmare.
Thankfully, Deacon sat with his broad back to the whole group. I needed time to clear up the whole mess before he realized they were there.
Before he realized Baxter wouldn’t speak to me, and Maggie could barely meet my eyes.
I clasped my hands in front of me, readying myself to finally tell Deacon what happened when Eric’s sharp whistle drew Deacon’s attention and slashed that feeble hope to ribbons.
I smiled, my lips trembling, and waved away Eric’s invitation for me to join them. He obviously didn’t know who I was with.
Miller waved for us both to come over.
What was he doing?
He had to know who I was with. Maybe he was as tired as I was of carrying this shit around and wanted it out in the open.
Even if it meant bloodshed.
Deacon twisted in his seat to see who whistled, his muscled back going rigid as he locked eyes with Baxter.
Fiery hostility emanated from his big body as he half rose from his seat, the first real sign of warmth since he sat down.
But it wasn’t the kind of heat I craved from him.
I slapped my hand over his muscled forearm, my fingers singing at the contact even as I whispered frantically. “Sit down, Deacon. Please. Baxter didn’t do anything wrong either.”
The heat of his body pulsed under my palm, warming me like nothing else ever had.
Or ever would.
He returned his fierce attention to me. Hard eyes narrowed, jaw unyielding, he dropped his gaze to my hand on his arm before biting out, “He did nothing wrong?”
I snapped my hand back and cocked an eyebrow, my stomach clenched in a knot. “Not a darn thing.” Finally, something other than fear reared up in my chest. “If you’d returned my calls back then, you’d know that.”
He shook his head slowly. “I saw you. The evidence was pretty damning, Jenny.”
He saw me.
I had called for him, over and over.
The fact he saw me like that made me sick.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t,” I replied evenly, pushing the memory of that night away even as I searched for the words to relay the events that tore us apart. “And if you’re still not willing to listen to the truth, you should leave right now.”
I worked to maintain an aura of calm though I was anything but. My insides roiled like a butter churn, my heart thudded in my throat, and my mind raged against going back to that dark place.
He dipped his chin briefly, his mouth stern. “I’m listening.”
There would be no compassion from this quarter; the comfort I’d longed for all these years would never come.
Inhaling quickly, I gave him the Cole’s notes. “Baxter’s father drugged me, stripped me, and put me in Baxter’s bed in order to destroy his relationship with Maggie.”
Deacon stared back at me, his face blank.
I saw the exact moment my words registered.
His face darkened like thunder, the ice in his eyes giving way to volcanic rage.
My fingernails dug into the soft skin of my palms as my heart skipped a beat. “He did the same to Baxter.”
I hesitated to give more detail, but I was tired, so tired of carrying the horror of it all on my own.
And at one time, I’d been able to pour out my heart to this man. He was the only one with whom I ever truly let my guard down.
I’d written letters to him for years.
I wish you were here.
Perhaps it was that habit that prompted me to continue. I swallowed my trepidation and carried on, my voice shaking. “But first he tied him to a chair and pressed his cigar into his back over and over and over.”
“Fucking hell,” Deacon muttered, roughly rubbing his hand over his jaw.
Gritting his teeth until the muscle in his jaw popped, he shook his head. “I can’t believe I left—” He cut himself off.
Deacon, please.
God, how I’d prayed for him to come rescue me.
I blinked the flashback away.
I saw you.
“And the whole time that was happening?” I continued softly so no one could possibly overhear. “Baxter threatened his father with death if he laid a hand on me though he could barely speak or even hold his head up.”
“You pressed charges?” he demanded.
I shook my head. “When did you see me?”
“I went looking for you around midnight when you didn’t come home and didn’t answer your phone.”
Deacon, please.
My legs began to shake.
“Was I awake?” I whispered, stricken.
If only he’d come earlier.
If only I’d let him drop me off.
If only I hadn’t gone in the first place.
He shook his head sharply. Fury rolled off him in waves though he continued to study me with suspicious eyes. “Does he still live here?”
Whether he chose to believe me or not, there was a certain amount of peace in telling him the truth.
I saw you.
“I didn’t press charges because Bax nearly killed his father when the shit hit the fan with Maggie.”
“I am going to kill him myself,” he stated, the hinge of his jaw flexing. He stared into space as if the plan unrolled in his head even now.
“He’s dead,” I stated baldly.
Gladly, even.
His eyebrows slashing together over his dark eyes, Deacon refocussed on my face. “What the fuck did Baxter almost killing his father have to do with you?”
“That was the deal I made to keep Baxter out of jail.”
“Why?” he barked. “Why would you do that?”
Always questioning.
Always suspicious of my friendship with Baxter.
Unable to accept that once upon a time, Baxter had been the only one to really know me.
But that, too, was a long time gone.
My body trembled like the last leaf clinging to the naked limbs of autumn as I whispered, “Because friends don’t abandon one another.”
Deacon stilled, his body poised like that of a predator waiting to pounce. He jerked his head back toward the table behind us. “Do they know everything?”
I winced and shook my head. Leave it to Deacon to find the open wound and pour salt on it. “Not yet.”
He gaped. “Why the hell not?”
I met his gaze and held it. “They’re not ready to listen. And it’s not easy approaching someone when they believe the worst of you.”
A sliver of regret flashed in his eyes, cracking the shutter open for a fraction of a second.
It wasn’t nearly enough.
My pulse settled.
This was not the man I remembered, the boy I loved.
Life had hardened this man beyond recognition, and I was a woman who required softness.
I almost wished I hadn’t agreed to meet with him.
I almost wished he hadn’t had the opportunity to smash the image I carried of him in my heart of hearts.
Because now I was losing him all over again.
But this time, I’d be the one to walk away.
“I think we’ve said all that needs to be said,” I murmured.
There was a time I would have told him the rest. Now it was pointless.
Though unspoken, meeting with him stirred up those old ghosts, sending a warning ripple over the false surface of my calm.
I had to get out of there before I broke down.
Because while Deacon had changed, filling out to become the man he was today, I was still in love with the boy I knew back then.
And he was well and truly gone.
“I’m going to take my food to go,” I stated quietly.
Not that I would be able to eat it.
Deacon sat back in his chair. Wide shoulders relaxing, he studied my face until I looked away.
“I’m retiring.”
My eyes snapped back to meet his. “You’re too young to retire.”
“Resigning, then. I’ve done my ten years of service.” He watched me from beneath hooded lids. “I’m moving home in a few months.”
“Home?” I gripped the edges of the table as I leaned toward him. “Why?”
He couldn’t come back here, not now.
Not when I couldn’t yet leave.
His dark, watchful gaze wandered over my face. “My father’s sick.”
I searched his eyes, but shuttered down tight, they gave away nothing. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I answered though I could not have cared less.
My next question burst out of me before I had a chance to reel it in. “Are you going to work on the farm?”
That was the last thing I needed.
Finding out he got married half killed me, and his divorce brought me no relief.
Watching him settle down here and choose one of the women his family approved of might finish the job.
Children?
I winced at the sharp stab of pain induced by the thought alone.
“Perhaps for the short term,” he answered evenly. “But you know that was never in my plan.”
“I remember,” I whispered. “Is your dad still pressuring you to get involved?”
How often had we lain side by side in our bed, voicing dreams of the future?
Back when we had one.
Back when I believed in love.
And Deacon believed in me.
“I think it’s more a habit than a need,” he continued, “My brothers have everything well in hand.”
“So, it’s temporary,” I blurted, hoping for a spark of light in the nightmare that was my life.
“That depends on whether there’s any reason to stay.” His gaze remained steady on my face as he continued softly, “Do I have any reason to stay?”
I stared back at him, my breath sawing in and out, the past serrating the edge of my lungs with every pass.
Me?
“I won’t do anything to hurt you, Jenny,” he murmured, reaching for my hand across the table.
I snatched my hands back like the table had caught fire and leaned back.
Did he mean me?
Schooling my features, I offered him a minuscule smile. “You can’t.”
Can’t what?
Can’t be here?
Can’t settle down and have a family?
Can’t hurt me?
That last one was the only one I was sure of.
I wouldn’t survive it.
Not again.
No longer caring who watched, I pushed my chair back and grabbed my coat. “There’s nothing left of the girl you remember,” I snapped. “I’ve moved on, so have you, and the past is long dead.”
I was spinning, his swinging moods giving me whiplash.
He settled deeper into his chair and watched me quietly. “I’m not so sure about that.”
His face was hard.
But his eyes had changed.
No longer angry, with that determined glint in his eyes, he was a much larger threat to my well-being.
I stepped away from the table and plunged my arms into my coat before yanking up the zipper.
“I don’t expect anything from you,” he continued. “Not after everything that happened. Not yet.”
One side of the teeth slid through the zipper while the other side caught. I yanked it free, and the zipper pull skittered across the floor.
Un-fucking-believable.
Ladies didn’t curse, but if there was an occasion where it was warranted, surely this was it.
I backed away from him, spun on my heel, and high-tailed it for the door.
I don’t know what I’d hoped for when Deacon showed up but sitting there with him made one thing crystal clear.
I was not in any way equipped to handle another ride with Deacon Raine.
Breath escaping in rough pants, I left the same way I came; alone.
A brisk ten minutes later, I ran up the outside staircase and burst through the door to my soft, cozy apartment. Then I ripped off my only good coat, kicked off my boots, and buried myself in the well-used corner of my wide couch.
Rich colour, plush pillows, and the softest of blankets welcomed me home, soothing the raw nerve endings of my memories.
I lit my lavender candle and worked to settle the quaking in my limbs.
Breathe in.
Here, I could be soft.
Breathe out.
Here, I could let down my guard.
Breathe in.
Home held no expectations, judgements, or regrets.
A sharp rap on my door shattered my peace.
I jolted forward, blinking hard and hoping against hope whoever it was would go away.
The second knock brought me to my feet.
I lightly ran across the floor on my tiptoes and peered through the peephole.
Deacon stood on the other side.
My breath came fast and broken.
You can’t be here, Deacon.
Not here.
Not in my safe place.
“I know you’re here, Jenny. Your footprints are all over the stairs. I just wanted to bring you your dinner. I’ll leave it here on the step and go.”
He lifted his palm.
A soft thud sounded against the door.
My breath caught as I splayed my fingers against the other side.
Tears rushed in while a low keening grief billowed in my chest.
I locked it down and blinked away my tears.
But I couldn’t blink away the face that somehow seemed more familiar than it had less than half an hour ago.
As if he could see me, he raised his gaze to the peephole. “I’ll check in with you when I come back in a few months. Take care of yourself, baby.”
Baby?
My lungs began to burn.
I expelled the breath I’d been holding in one loud whoosh as he turned. I lost sight of him as he jogged down the stairs, but my hand refused to move.
A blessedly numbing calm settled over me.
My hand slid down the door.
And my patience ran out.
Baxter and Maggie may not yet be ready to hear the truth, but I was ready to let go of the past.
And maybe, just maybe, move on from Moose Lake.