Second Chance Hero (11 page)

I change from my t-shirt into a black button up for
my meeting, glad I can take the 4x4 this afternoon. It’s a random idea for some
log cabin holiday accommodation in the forest. I’m not convinced I’m going to
take this job on, but it can't hurt to go and look at the site and go over the
planning permission. At least it gives me some sort of distraction for a while.
I draw up some notes on the whiteboard, in case anyone comes back to the office
today, pack up my laptop and leave for the car. I point the key at the door,
but can't bring myself to unlock it.

Before I register what I’m doing, I’m climbing into
the driver’s seat of the truck, apparently needing Jenna to occupy every
thought I have. I turn on the engine and pull away from the yard.

~

“What made you decide to brave life outside your shell?”
Brad asks as we walk towards the pub.

I drove the truck to Mum’s and met him there. I can
sleep in my old room and go for a run in the morning before I go to work.

“I don’t live in a shell, mate.”

“Bro, you haven’t been out with us for years. Why now?”

“Do we need all the questions?” I ask, running my
hands through my hair, “I was thinking we could just sink a few pints.”

“Sounds good to me. Jonas got the first round.”

I open the door and hold it open behind me for Brad;
Jonas and Steve are sitting at what used to be our usual spot, in the corner
next to the fire. It became the usual table the first time we brought Jenna in
here; she was cold, so we sat by the fire, and never sat anywhere else.

“Thought we’d start off slow.” Jonas says sliding
four beers across the table for Brad and me. I drink half of my first before I
sit down and take my jacket off.

“Good to have you back, mate,” Jonas salutes, “it
felt lonely with just us and this jammy fuck.”

“Hey, none of that.” Brad chuckles, “Not my fault you
wanna leave before I get my round in.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tight arse,” Steve rolls his hand into
a tight fist.

This is easier than I thought it was going to be. I
was tempted to ring and pull out, using work as an excuse, but I know they
don’t believe that any more and this was my idea. I finish off the rest of my
first beer.

“Jesus, mate. Slow it down,” Jonas slides my empty
glass to the end of the table, “We don’t all have wallets as big as yours.”

“I’ll buy the rest of the drinks tonight if you get
off my case,” I bark, starting on the other one.

“Wehey!” Jonas shouts, “Sue, vodka por favore.”

She rolls her eyes, but lines up the shot glasses
and pours the vodka into them. The poor woman seems to work in this place every
hour of her life. Doesn’t matter what time I walk past here, she’s behind that
bar with her mini TV looking at the clock to decide if it’s appropriate to
smoke again so soon after the last time.

Brad jumps up to grab the tray of shots, holding his
up in the air when he gets back to the table and shouts:

“One, two, three.”

Drink.

“One, two, three.”

Drink.

“One, two, three.”

Drink.

Jesus. My lack of nights out with these three is
starting to show. My head is fuzzy, my vision is blurred and I’m tempted to
march a few roads down and demand to sleep in the bed that’s bound to smell
exactly how I’m hoping mine still will in the morning.

“One, two, three.”

Drink.

“Here’s to,” Jonas slurs, swaying in his seat,
“Deacon Reid pulling his shit together.”

We clink and drink yet another shot of vodka. I think
we’re on six. Seven, maybe.

“Fuck off with all the heavy stuff. Don't we leave
all that to the chicks?” I shut one eye, trying to focus.

“Apparently not.” Jonas says, mock-scowling at me.

“Speaking of heavy,” Brad pipes up from somewhere
slumped in the corner “Jenna’s really leaned out. Have you noticed those
curves? Where the hell did the cute little girl playing football with us and
wearing pigtails go?”

“Dude!” Jonas shouts.

“Keep it shut, bro’.” I warn him. That needs to be
the last thing he says about Jenna.

“I’m just saying, mate. You can't hate a guy for
looking at what’s in front of him. Those hips are incredible.”

“Brad!” Jonas throws his hands in the air, “That’s
my fucking sister, man. My round.”

He heaves himself up from the table and storms to
the bar, leaning over the counter to look at the football highlights on Sue’s
mini TV. Steve huddles in the corner, well aware of where this is going.

“Even J has to notice how
hot
she is, right?
She left this shy little baby, and came back... I’d jump her bones, I’m not
gonna lie.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” I shout, rage
seeping up my hand into my fingers where my hands curl into tight fists.

“Deac. You were friends with her. You can't claim.”

“To hell I can't. Don’t fucking talk about her like
that. She’s not one of your fuck buddies.”

“And I suppose she’s yours?”

I stand up, challenging my big brother. He stands up
too, his fists clenched at his sides.

“She’ll be mine before she’ll be yours. You lay a
fucking finger on her, I’ll show you heavy.”

“Oh, dear brother, I feel a bet coming on.” He
laughs in his drunken state.

I am anything but drunk now. My brother, a man Jenna
considers a brother too, just crossed the line and drunk or not he’s going to
remember not to cross it again.

“Come on. What’s the wager?”

My fist lands squarely on his jaw and he falls
sideways, crashing into the empty table behind us. When I think that’s all it
will take, his fist flies and hits me in the eye. I squeeze it shut and grab
him in a headlock.

“Hey!” Sue shouts and her, Steve and Jonas try to
break us apart.

I release him, and he wipes the blood from his nose.

“Don't you ever talk about her like that again!” I
growl, shove Jonas off me and leave the pub, slamming the door behind me.

Jenna

‘They didn’t agree on much. In fact, they didn’t
agree on anything. They fought all the time and challenged each other every
day. But despite their differences, they had one important thing in common.
They were crazy about each other.’

I peek over my Kindle and see the waves crashing on
the sand as the tide makes its way out. I look down from where I’m sitting in
the seat under my window and notice a familiar body walking along the harbour
path. Deacon struggles to walk, his hands curled up in tight fists, and he’s
flailing them all over the place as he talks to himself. I kneel up on the seat
and press my palms to the glass.
What the hell is he doing?
He looks up
at the window, as if hearing my thoughts and I’m glad the backlight on my
Kindle has gone off, leaving me in complete darkness. He stops walking and I
stand up, away from the window. His expression changes but he’s too far away
for me to see it, but it makes me press my hand to my chest. Something in me is
telling me to go down and see if he’s okay; but then I see the rip in his
shirt, his hair ruffled and I know where he’s been. Off with one of his trait
girls.

I step towards the window and pull the curtains,
before climbing into bed and fighting off the images, seeping unwelcome into my
head.

~

“Where are you off to so early?” Mum asks from the
kitchen as I reach the bottom of the stairs.

What time does she get up?!

“You’re up early,” I say, joining her in the kitchen
and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.

“So are you.”

She eyes me suspiciously; she’s been doing that a
lot lately. I frown, gesture at my running attire and shrug.

“Don't be long, Daddy wants a cooked breakfast this
morning, so we can all eat together.”

 I nod, and leave quickly before she can say
anything else. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, my body so coiled up with
tension I couldn't get comfortable; my mind so aware of the state I saw Deacon
in last night that it wouldn’t switch off. He’s dominating my sleep now, as
well as my every thought.

I stop at the wall separating the beach from the
pavement and stretch out my legs on it, before rolling my shoulders and setting
off for my now usual route along the beach, up to the cliff top house Deacon
spoke about Sunday night at dinner. I left my iPod at home, hoping the sound of
the ocean and seagulls scavenging whatever was left behind by the tide last
night, would give me the peace of mind I’m desperate for. Never in my life have
I been so restless; my mind full of things I want to both go away, and become
reality.

My feet have picked up a rhythm, crunching on the
moist sand, until I hear another set coming up behind me. Now I wish I’d
brought my headphones. The power in that run tells me exactly who is catching
up with me, and I want nothing more right now than to shut him and the sordid
images of him and other women, out of my head.

“Hey, Jen.” Deacon says, falling into stride next to
me and pulling his earphones out, letting them fall to his strong,
well-groomed, powerful chest...

“Don’t ‘Hey Jen’ me,” I say shaking my head and
speeding up. Of course he catches up with me easily, with the grace and speed
of a lion.

“Whoa, what did I do now?”

I sigh, and continue running, planning on ignoring
him until he goes away. But every inch of my body is aware of him, urging me
closer like I’m a flimsy piece of nickel being drawn to a magnet. I mentally
chastise my body for being so weak, and steer myself further away from him. But
he’s just so there, I can see him, smell him, hear his breathing, feel every
ounce of masculinity radiating off of him.

“I can do this all day, Jen. What’s wrong?”

I stop abruptly, kicking up some sand and throw
myself in the other direction, back the way I came. I can cut my run short if
it means I’ll be free from this hyperawareness to this incredibly, beautifully
frustrating man.

He grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop and I stumble
on the sand. I swing round and shove him in the chest, barely affecting him,
while the shockwaves of desire surge through my body.

“Talk to me.”

“The last thing I want to do is talk to you.”

“What do you wanna do to me then?” He smirks,
running the backs of his fingers up and my arm. Memories of his hands stroking
the same pattern underneath the waistband of his boxers I wore on Friday fill
my mind and I pull away and step back, a safe enough distance for now. If he
wants to talk, we’ll talk.

“Not whatever one of your trait girls did last
night.” I snap, folding my arms.

“Trait girls? What?”

He looks utterly confused, but I can't be wrong. I
know what he’s like and know what I saw - his dishevelled, disorientated
appearance last night. And there’s a nice, big shiner on his eye.

            “Oh, come on I’m not stupid.”

            He puts his hands on his hips, a hint of
amusement on his face.

            “Right.” He says slowly, “And what
exactly are you not stupid about?”

            I feel the rage, the anger, the disgust
that his body has touched mine with the same skin that touches other women and
I can see the cloud of red, puffing out around me.

            “I’m sick of your bullshit!” I scream,
not caring that people are walking along the harbour, not ten feet from us, “I
saw you last night, obviously on your way home from one of your rendezvous. I
bought that shit about your fucking traits. The girls
you
put in the
past
tense. And there you go, walking along the street after what was clearly a
rough session, for the world to see. And then look up at my
window like
you
wanted
me to see it.”

            I poke at the bruise on his eye,
desperate to touch him, violently or otherwise. The anger I have for him only
seems to fuel the desire I feel towards him and it’s burning like wildfire
through my body.

            “Oh.” He says, looking like a light just
switched on in his head, and rubbing his brow where I just poked, “You saw me.”

            “Yeah, I saw you. Clearly you should add
needing a good beating to your checklist.”

            “That is
not
what happened.”

            “There’s something wrong with you!” I
scream, wanting to pull my hair out. He opens his mouth to talk, “I don’t want
you to tell me there’s an explanation, or a reason, or that it had anything to
do with me.”

            He snaps his mouth shut and frowns, his
eyes darkening. Clearly, he was going to say something like that, and he isn’t
happy, but I’m not listening to it this time.

            “Just let me get on with my life here. I
don’t want you and your disrespectful, self-obsessed behaviour anywhere near
me.”

            I turn and run, as fast as I can, but he
isn’t following me. I want to look back at him; I didn’t want to hurt him, but
it’s disgusting. I can't believe I didn’t insist on him having a health check
before I slept with him.

“You weren’t gone long, Jen.” Mum says as I walk
into the kitchen out of breath, not from my run, but because of the
overwhelming emotions threatening to explode.

            “I’m just going to have some cereal for
breakfast. I’m going out for lunch with Jade and Grace this afternoon.”

            I run up the stairs, ignoring the weird
look Jonas gives me as he and Grace walk through the door, and get straight
into the shower.

I manage to get a couple of hours sleep after my
shower, from the emotional exhaustion that’s been building since I got back to
town. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back. It was stupid to think Deacon and I
could live in the same town again without making each other’s lives hell. I
know I’m too harsh; he’s a single man with a stressful job, why shouldn’t he be
able to sleep around? Lord knows I did when I ran away after the beach night. I
tried everything to fill the hole he made when he broke my heart. And
apparently, we girls don’t get the same social treatment when we do what the
boys do. It makes them heroes, but it tarnishes our name, making us out to be
cheap and dirty. I’ve never felt dirty about it before, but no matter how many
times I shower, I can’t get the feeling of him off my skin. I don’t want to.
I’m angry and I’m frustrated, but that man is my everything. Knowing I’m going
to see Kip in a few days has me feeling awful – the last time I saw him, I
slept with another man the same night. Jesus, Jenna.

Grace drives and we meet Jade at a pub restaurant in
Foster. Phillipa is at school, and Jade has got a few hours to relax before she
has to go and pick her up and the cheeky five-year-old runs rings around her
again.

            Grace and I grab a drink at the bar, and
go out into the garden, where Jade has her nose in a book.

            “Have you not upgraded to the electronic
kind, yet?” I ask, sitting next to her and kissing her on the cheek.

            She laughs and puts her book back in her
bag.

            “Steve says they’re a waste of money,”
In other words, he thinks they can't afford it, “And I like the comfort of a
real book you know?”

            “Yeah,” Grace says, taking a sip of her
lemonade, “But with e-readers you can read the smuttiest smut there is in a
crowd full of people and they’re none the wiser.”

            “Considering murder mystery is my thing,
I think I’m safe.”

            We laugh and Grace blushes.

            “I can't wait to eat.” I say, looking
over the menu, “Mum and Dad are turning into the prying old people they used to
make fun off. I skipped breakfast just to avoid the interrogation.”

            Jade looks at me the same way Jonas did
this morning, a look like I’m missing something, and then blinks it away as she
picks up the menu.

            “How’s the refurb going?” Grace asks,
ignoring Jade’s introversion.

            “I was supposed to hear from the
surveyor yesterday but he hasn’t called. I’ll give him ‘til Friday and them
call him. He seemed really up for the project when we met.”

            “It’s probably just taking him longer to
get it done, you have a specific idea don’t you?”

            I nod and shrug the idea away; it’s
specific, but not complicated.

            “I’m having the chicken mayo.” Jade
comes back to life and reaches for her orange juice.

            “Me too. You know what you’re having,
Grace? I’ll go get it.”

            “Yeah, I’m having tuna melt.”

            They both attempt to hand me some cash
but I wave them off, telling them to buy me a drink on Saturday. As soon as I
leave the table, Jade throws herself across it and I hear their hushed voices
as I walk away. What’s going on?

            The guy at the bar has to say ‘excuse
me’ a few times before catching my attention; my mind is being pulled in so
many directions it’s giving me a headache, and I furiously rub at my temples.

            “Can I place an order for outside
please? Table six.”

~

            “That food was incredible.” Jade says
rubbing her washboard stomach. It’s amazing how women get their bodies back
after childbirth.

My big sister, the eldest of the three Rivera
children is gorgeous. She’s lean with subtle curves, sparkling brown eyes and
thick dark hair framing her face that makes her olive skin glow. She got the
height I was denied; at five foot nine, she looks like a Spanish model. A real
señorita.

            “Mmm hmm.” Grace agrees. I stopped
eating halfway through, unable to stomach food, “Did you see the state of
Brad’s face?”

            I choke on my lemonade and Jade looks at
Grace like she wishes she had a gun in her hand.

            “What happened to Brad’s face?” I ask,
just above a whisper. The other Reid brother had a maimed face when I saw him.

            “Oh, I thought you knew.” She says, and
as always I can't tell if Grace is being genuine, “He and Deacon had a fight in
The Duck last night. Sue had to throw them out.”

“What?!” I shriek. Deacon hadn’t been with a woman.
He had a drunken fight with his big brother and I went Queen Arsehole on him
this morning. Oh god.

I put my head in my hands, and the girls fall
silent.

“You okay, Jen?” Jade puts her hand on my shoulder,
obviously confused by my reaction.

“I went crazy, like mad-woman crazy on him this
morning.”

Jade looks at Grace, and she jumps up out of her
seat.