Chapter 8 Battered and Broken
Battered and Broken
Jenny
Sunday dawned grey and bleak, extending a rather frosty welcome as I stepped outside and locked my apartment door behind me.
I needed to either get my long coat fixed or buy a new one.
I wore a long sweater as always, but against this cold, it didn’t do much to keep my tushy toasty.
The air left my lips in frozen puffs as I huffed in exasperation at the fresh layer of salt covering my steps.
Salt, baseboards, and a now freshly painted window frame, meant I’d seen Deacon three times in the last week. If he knew how to replace the grease trap, he probably would have done that as well.
I’d even made him dinner, which was 100% against my plan to keep my distance, so I’d compromised by not speaking to him.
I rolled my eyes in a silent internal dispute over my foolishness.
Because just sitting across with him, watching him dive into the food I made specially for him, was entirely too satisfying. He was slowly worming his way in, just as he did before, and I wondered how long I’d have the wherewithal to resist him.
With a box of giant oatmeal raisin cookies tucked under my arm, I trotted down my stairs to the parking lot. It wasn’t until my foot hit the pavement that I lifted my head.
The large, black SUV idling at the curb, driver’s door slowly opening, had me stumbling backwards. The box of cookies flew out from under my arm as I reached for the railing, preparing to run back up to the safety of my apartment.
My heart hammered and my vision blurred as my heel sought the first stair, then Deacon stepped out, his face tight and angry.
“God, Deacon, you scared me,” I gasped, slapping my hand over my chest as I bent over to catch my breath. I blew out a harsh breath and retrieved the box of cookies before standing. “I thought you were—"
I swallowed the rest of my sentence.
His eyebrows crashed down as he barked, “Who? Who did you think I was?”
I sucked in a breath and exhaled fully as I shook my head. That was a kettle of fish I never planned to open.
My hands shook, and it wasn’t from the cold. “Nobody.”
“That’s quite a reaction for a nobody,” he growled, stalking toward me.
I shook my head again and brushed him off. “Ghosts from the past. I wasn’t expecting to see you and I didn’t recognize your truck.”
He halted in front of me, his stony gaze holding mine as I held my breath.
My heart pounded. From the false alarm or his proximity, I couldn’t tell.
Tightening his jaw, he offered a short nod then walked around to the other side of his truck and opened the door. “Get in.”
I barked out a laugh at his audacity. If he thought ousting a harmless Hairy Larry would allow him to boss me around, he’d better think again.
Lifting my chin, I tucked my bakery box more securely under my arm. “Sorry, but I’ve got plans.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Going to St. Michael’s, right?”
I nodded, then the meaning behind his words penetrated and I attempted to shake my head.
He snorted. “Don’t take up poker, baby. Let’s go.”
“I don’t want to go with you,” I replied stubbornly.
He prowled around the car and walked toward me until we stood toe-to-toe. Dipping his knees, he looked into my eyes like he was seeing into my soul. “Are you sure you don’t want to be with me?”
I began to nod when he snapped, “Don’t lie. There will be nothing but honesty between us.”
I’d planned to lie until my pants caught fire, but at his words, I snapped it shut.
“Good,” he grunted, straightening to his full height. With a firm hand to my lower back, he guided me around the car.
What was I doing? I’d all but admitted I wanted to be with him. I mean, of course I did.
I climbed in and sat down with my heart beating in my throat.
But I didn’t want to want to be with him. And that had to count for something.
My heart warred with my head as he handed me my seat belt and closed the door firmly, closing me inside the cab, surrounded by his scent.
This, being with Deacon, won’t keep me safe.
With Deacon, and his family, I’d spend my life defending my right to hold his hand and stand by his side. That was not the life I wanted.
I clasped my hands in my lap and huffed out a disbelieving laugh at the fact my round bottom was currently planted in his passenger seat.
At twenty-one, Deacon had been easy-going and malleable. He was a man who laughed, that long dimple creasing his cheek often. He teased and played and loved with ease and abandon. Other than a possessive streak a mile wide, nothing much bothered him.
Being with him had been easy.
Now, he was a man hardened by life and the choices he’d made.
And perhaps by suffering due to the things over which he had no control.
Like others’ bad decisions.
The thought pierced my heart. Would he have enlisted if not for that night? What exactly had he seen and done over the past ten years?
I would never ask; I didn’t want the visual.
But he had come looking for me that night.
My stomach cramped.
What did he see?
And how would he feel if he knew the rest?
I turned my head to look out the window, my stomach quivering, teeth chattering.
What would he do if he knew the rest?
Would he leave? Find someone else to share his life with? Someone better suited to him?
I winced at the recollection of the one and only time I’d seen him with his wife; a woman who was everything I wasn’t.
Her sleek blond hair sat at a respectable shoulder length, and her make-up was natural and subdued. A fitted jacket topped a modest dress, both highlighting her slight frame. She looked like they’d just come from church.
They probably had.
That night, I soaked the pillows with my tears for the last time. Never again would I allow a man to hurt me the way he did.
I wasn’t my mother.
I pledged I’d never be my mother. Yet, here I was, flirting with disaster. Disgust twisted my mouth. I curled my fingers over the door handle.
And froze.
Get out of his truck, you fool!
He swung his large frame into the seat and closed his door. His eyes flicked to my hand then narrowed on my face. “All right?”
Lifting my chin, I returned my hand to my lap and faced him coolly. “I’m fine.”
Jaw ticking, he put the key in the ignition and brought the truck back to life. Adjusting the heat and flicking my seat warmer on, he grunted, “We need to talk.”
“We do not,” I retorted.
“You don’t even know what I want to talk about,” he countered.
I shook my head. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
Because talking? About us? Would only lead to lying.
He hitched his wrist over the steering wheel. “So, we’re leaving the past in the past?”
I nodded firmly and turned away, ignoring the weight of his stare.
“Good.” Palming the steering wheel to reverse out, he continued, “Then there’s nothing stopping us from moving forward.”
Whipping to face him, I exclaimed, “That’s not what I said!”
Pulling out onto the street, he stated, “We’ve established you want to be with me, and you don’t want to talk about the past. What’s left other than to move forward?”
“As friends,” I stated, mentally kicking myself as soon as the words left my mouth.
He scoffed. “Really, Jenny? You can be friends with me? You going to join me and the wife for Christmas? Maybe be in our wedding party?”
“Well, I wasn’t invited last time, why should this time be any different?”
I bit my lip hard, the taste of copper doing its utmost to distract me from the agony in my heart. I cursed myself for being all kinds of a fool. After agreeing to leave the past in the past, I turned around and threw it in his face.
“I’m sorry,” he stated softly. “I’ve only ever loved you.”
“Oh, yeah? And how did your wife feel about that?” I snapped, angry with myself for revealing the wound.
“Pretty fucking strongly considering she divorced me,” he retorted.
“I shouldn’t have married anyone,” he continued. “I shouldn’t have been with anyone but you, period.”
“You can do whatever you want,” I sniped, then took a deep, bracing breath.
This was not who I was. Nor was it who I wanted to become.
My breath hitched in my throat.
I wasn’t bitter or angry or forgotten.
I swallowed the pain from the past.
I wasn’t that woman who waited and pleaded and begged.
I made a life for myself, one where I didn’t have to fight and claw and scream for peace.
A life where I didn’t care if it rained.
Steadying myself, I continued, my voice soft and controlled once more. “I had no claim on you.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, baby. You’ve always had a claim on me, and I was an asshole to think I could ever replace you.” He pulled up to a red light and faced me. “I couldn’t then, and I can’t now.”
I stared steadfastly out the front windshield.
“I don’t want to.”
Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“Jenny,” he murmured as he reached out a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers over my cheek. “I am sorry.”
I closed my eyes at his touch, weakening by the minute. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Without looking at him, I muttered, “I’m sure she wasn’t the first.”
The jerk of his fingers confirmed what I already knew.
I turned my face away, sickened at the thought of him with another woman.
How long did he wait before he slipped between someone else’s thighs?
Bile rose in my throat.
I covered my throat with a shaking hand and swallowed it down, remembering what I went through those first few weeks, how I’d prayed for him to call me and give me a chance to explain.
Was he already with someone else?
Was he giving her the pleasure that was supposed to be mine as I lay broken-hearted and bleeding?
How many more were there?
And how did I compare?
There are girls they marry and girls they fuck.
I swiped the back of my hand over my mouth, inhaling a shaky breath.
“Have there been others for you?” he asked tightly.
For a moment, I thought about lying, making him hurt the way I did. Give him the mental pictures that had tortured me for the past eleven years.