9. Heartbreak Hote—Cabin
CHAPTER NINE
HEARTbrEAK HOTE—CABIN
AURORA
“ G o sit.”
I didn’t.
“Aurora,” Deke said, his deep voice filled with warning.
I ignored the warning and him.
Deke stood at the stove, prepping pasta sauce that smelled spicy enough to make my nose tingle. Unlike most times when he cooked, he actually had a recipe for this dish. I peeked at it again before grabbing the heavy cream he’d need soon. Pouring some into a measuring cup, I returned the carton to the fridge and ventured close enough to set the cup within his reach.
A critical error.
He snagged me by the hip and tugged me toward him. Some of the cream sloshed out, and I made a panicked squeak as I put my socked foot on the spill before Victoria got to it. I might’ve been willing to sneak her very small amounts of bacon, but I wasn’t sure if cream was dangerous. I’d never had a pet before, but Victoria seemed to have bonded with me. I didn’t want her to get sick.
Even if she was insulting me in her yippy bark language.
Not noticing the spill—or maybe not caring—Deke continued shifting me until my front was pressed to his side. I didn’t even think about how wet socks were a form of torture.
Because so was Deke’s arm around me and the tight way he held my body to his.
“Love it when we’ve cooked together,” he said, making me smile.
Because of all the good things we’d done that week—and there’d been a lot of good—that might’ve been my favorite. He was always patient as he walked me through each step, thoroughly explaining his techniques. It made it fun and not a frittata chore.
“But this is supposed to be a dinner to say thank you,” he continued, and I could literally feel the rumble in his voice with how close I was pressed to him. “Kinda doesn’t work if you’re helping to make it.”
I grabbed a small notepad and pen from the counter. Thanks to the way he’d scattered them all around his house and restaurant, there was always one nearby for me to easily communicate.
You don’t have to say thank you.
“The fuck I don’t.”
The first handful—or more—times Deke swore, my body had instinctively braced for expected anger. After all, why else would he be cursing every third word? After the millionth time, though, I finally got the message that he just had a potty mouth.
Since all that swearing was accompanied by tenderness, respect, acts of service done without drawing attention to himself, and about a billion other amazing qualities, I realized there were far greater sins than pairing a golden heart with filthy language.
“Don’t know what I would’ve done without you this week,” he continued.
When Deke had left for work that first day without me, an ache had formed in my chest until I’d been on the verge of chasing his car like a scene out of an angsty movie. It hadn’t made any sense since I liked being alone.
No.
I preferred it.
I never did figure out what my deal was, but it didn’t matter because he hadn’t left me behind again.
Like, at all .
While he was in the back office at Black Horse, I sat in there with one of the books he’d bought me. Once the restaurant opened and he moved into the kitchen to help Chris, a chair was set out of the way for me but still positioned where he could see me. And where I could see the chaos behind the scenes, which usually stole my attention from whatever I was reading.
When he’d initially set up the chair, my skin had grown hot and tight with shame. I’d assumed it was similar to how Ryan kept me close because he’d worried I would embarrass him. But it wasn’t. If I got up to help someone, Deke didn’t bark at me to sit down or get out of the way. Instead, I’d catch him giving me small smiles—even when it resulted in him burning the ahi tuna that was only supposed to be seared.
Chris, Kevin, and the others at Black Horse didn’t seem fazed by my sudden appearance. I would go so far as to say they might even like me. No one gossiped about me—or if they did, it was behind my back and not in raised whispers that they knew would carry. No one told me I was in their way or yelled at me for trying to help. No one called me a sinner, threatened damnation, or forced me into a prayer room.
No one made me feel like a failure.
I handled that last one on my own because I definitely hadn’t been doing enough to repay Deke’s generosity—hence why I was attempting to help with dinner.
I looked down at the pad to write that he would’ve been fine, but he didn’t give me the chance.
His large hand cupped my chin and tilted my face up to meet his intense gaze. “And it’s not just me who thinks that. Kevin said if I didn’t cook you something good, he’d have to. And, baby, there’s a reason he works in the office, not the kitchen, so be glad we’re avoiding that. Chris said to prepare your taste buds for tomorrow because he’s determined to make a recipe too spicy for you. Hell, every person in that place has pulled me aside to say how amazing it’s been having you there. Thought I was well-liked, but they’ve made it clear I’m chopped liver compared to you.” He squeezed my chin. “And they’re not wrong.”
His words—and the affectionate name he’d used a handful of times—traveled through me, leaving a trail of warmth that spread until I would have sworn I glowed like the fire in the living room. A smile that was quickly becoming ever-present spread across my face.
A buzzing hit the back of my swimming head. I quickly chalked it up to the lack of sleep because, after a singular good night, my sleep had returned to almost nonexistent. But the pain increased until my smile faltered, and the world went hazy.
I have the worst case of déjà vu ? —
The vision.
This is the image from my vision.
When I’d initially seen it, I hadn’t recognized the emotion in my expression. But now I knew what it was.
Contentment.
It wasn’t something I experienced often.
Or ever.
The sensation began to ebb away before returning times a million. The buzzing suddenly turned to the stabs of a thousand bees stinging my brain. At least that was what it felt like. My fingers clutched Deke’s shirt as I swayed, my vision tunneling.
Going alert, Deke tried to release my jaw. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
I grabbed his hand and forced it back, not wanting the moment to be over despite the pain that split my skull. Like his touch was magic, the pain lessened, and I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
Deke’s lids lowered as something flashed in his dark eyes. It made the warmth in me stoke to a burn that overheated my body. My hand keeping his on my chin was unnecessary as his hold tightened again. His gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth.
My breath froze in my lungs.
My heart froze in my chest.
My everything froze as anticipation hummed through my veins. Waiting.
Hoping .
Dark eyes raised to meet mine again.
In a blink, it was gone.
The heat.
The intensity.
The hold.
Deke released me to move away and turn the burner down to low. He took the measuring cup I belatedly noticed I still held, and I let out an involuntary gasp when his fingers grazed mine.
I wasn’t aware that fingers could be hypersensitive, yet there we were.
He tensed for a long second before continuing like nothing had happened as he put the cream into the fridge. “Gonna let this simmer while I chop wood before the snow starts.”
And then he was gone, too.
It seemed to be a pattern with him.
The little shot of joy at the mention of snow was overshadowed by my confusion.
What the heck was that ?
I have a wild idea.
Maybe go ask him.
Use your words.
Running my fingers through my hair, I fought the urge to tug the length as I closed my eyes. And then I winced.
The pain had moved from a buzzing ache at the back of my head to a strained one at the front, courtesy of my burning eyes. Blinking only intensified the problem—like I wore lenses of sandpaper dunked in the ghost pepper-infused chili oil they used at Black Horse.
I checked the pot on the stove before going upstairs to try cleaning my contacts again. Plus, without Deke to distract me, I could no longer ignore the annoying wet sock. I flicked on the light, met my mismatched gaze in the mirror, and recoiled.
And I thought it felt awful…
No wonder he moved away so fast. It looks like I have the world’s most infectious case of pink eye.
Or maybe a zombie plague that starts in the eyes.
There was more red than white in each eye. Even without the lenses in, every blink scratched against the rawness until I honestly worried blood would drip down my cheeks.
It would really complete the horror movie vibe.
Earlier in the week, I’d written a message to Deke that I needed to run into the store alone for personal items . It wasn’t a lie, but while I was in there, I’d also grabbed contact solution and eye drops. They’d both helped, but the lenses themselves were made for single-day use—not an entire week.
I can’t put these back in.
My eyes had always been a source of embarrassment for me. After my accident, the nurses at the hospital had whispered about how unnerving they were. Pastor Gideon had told me they were the mark of a sinner and that I should be grateful he’d taken me in. Claire had often and earnestly called me a freakazoid. Ryan had initially acted like they were something special but had quickly changed his tune.
To them—and to me—they were a physical manifestation of my curse. Something to be ashamed of. To hide away.
Just like me.
Or at least that was the way I’d felt before Deke.
For the millionth time, I thought about his reaction to the man calling me stupid at Black Horse. Not just the way he’d fired the guy with zero hesitation—even though it’d clearly meant more work for him—but what he’d said.
‘Because she doesn’t owe you jack-shit, asshole.’
He hadn’t offered excuses for me. He hadn’t tried to explain away my muteness. He hadn’t yelled at me for causing a mess he had to clean up. He’d never even pressured me into telling him why I didn’t talk.
I simply didn’t, and that was a good enough reason for him.
The night he’d found me in the woods, I’d told myself that I should take a little time to make sure I could actually trust that he wouldn’t immediately turn on me when I tried to explain that the voice in my head led me to him. Those few days had stretched into a few more because I was selfish. I didn’t want to talk and ruin things. I didn’t want to make what we had explode in a hellfire blaze of fear. I didn’t want to change the way he looked at me…
Like I was a normal woman and not someone to fear, pity, or be saddled with.
I didn’t want to lose that or him.
I had no clue what I was even supposed to say to him. Did I start slowly, easing into it? Did I blurt out that a vision had shown me I should be there with him? I’d lived with my curse for nearly seven years—ever since waking up in those woods in Arkansas—and even I knew how insane that sounded.
But I had to do something. I’d stalled long enough. That feeling that something massive was coming had only grown stronger, and I couldn’t keep pushing it to the back of my aching head. I needed to trust that Deke would keep accepting me exactly as I was. I needed to tell him the truth.
And that started with showing him the truth.
Tossing the colored contacts into the trash, I raised my chin.
I can do this.
I trust Deke.
As I moved through the bedroom on my way to go outside, something forced my head to the side to look out the window.
Or maybe not…
Deke stood at the far edge of the garden, surrounded by stunning greenery and logs.
And he wasn’t alone.
Still holding his axe, he spoke to a woman.
I scrambled to grab one of the sets of binoculars he’d put near the bedroom and kitchen windows so I could watch the wildlife in the morning. I held them to my eyes and looked again, hoping I was wrong. Hoping that the damage from my contacts had ruined my vision, and it was actually a new scarecrow out in the field.
It wasn’t, of course.
A beautiful brunette in a flowing skirt stood next to him, unfazed by the cold and the snow that began to flutter down. She smiled, and my heart surged with fondness like even I was falling in love a little.
The very same heart that cracked as I watched her touch his arm.
Riled up and impulsive, I tossed the binoculars onto the bed and jogged down the stairs. I turned off the stove as I moved to the back door. But when I opened it, the beautiful woman was gone.
And so was Deke.
Did he go somewhere with her?
Is he going to return smelling like her perfume and sex?
The cracks in my heart split into chasms. I rubbed my chest as an emptiness filled me.
I’m not going to wait around to find out.