Second Chance Hero (36 page)

“How are you feeling, son?” Dad asks, and my heart
clenches at the endearment. My dad always calls him that, but this time I
literally feel my heart squeeze beneath the pressure of my love for Deacon and
my family.

“Never better.” He grins, and I feel my cheeks rise
with my own smile, “I want to say something before we all go off and do our own
thing.”

Eyes flicker between Deacon and I, and then between
each other. They know what’s coming, I’m sure of it. I’m just not sure if I’ll
be in trouble for taking advantage of Deacon when he’s vulnerable, or whether
they’ll be relieved the game of cat and mouse is finally over. I know which
reaction I’d prefer but I’m not convinced it’s the one I deserve. Deac looks at
me once the family has sat down, and it’s a silent command to join them. I
follow, eager to keep my promise.

            “I’ve come to the conclusion that Kip
was one of the best things that ever happened to Jenna.”

Whoa. Hold up. What?

“Him, and London.” Please tell me this is not the
part where he sends me back. In front of our family. Deacon takes a deep
breath, “Because if she was never with him, and never so far away from home,
she would never have been the woman she is now. Her leaving town helped us
both, and I’m convinced Dad did it.” What is he talking about? “Jenna moved to
London, got with Kip and found herself. It messed me up when she left and I spiralled.”
He turns to me, “if you had stayed, it would have ruined us for good. I needed
to be able to fuck up to realise what it is I really wanted. What I’ve always
really wanted, but denied.”

He turns back to the family, and it all makes sense
now. He thinks Dom kept us apart so we could grow apart for long enough to
intertwine in a way that would make us both strong enough to deal with how we
feel. He’s right. I’d always put up with the looks from other girls when we
were friends because it was what it was. If we’d have made a go of it after the
night at the beach, my lack of confidence would have seen us fall apart the
minute another girl looked at him. And if I had stayed, we would have torn each
other apart, eventually.

“I’ve never been one to believe in destiny but,”
Deac continues and I’m drawn to him with everyone else as he speaks, “Jenna
moving away made her strong enough to accept when I asked her to marry me.”

A synchronised gasp fills the silence after Deacon’s
declaration, before the cheers erupt and everyone jumps to their feet. Emma
orders champagne before we’re congratulated.

“Oh my god.” She sandwiches my hand between both of
hers when she looks at my ring, “How did you get that?”

“It was...it was... in a letter,” I stutter, because
she looks fuming. Her blue eyes have turned grey and stormy and I grimace,
waiting.

“Dad and Grandma wanted her to have it,” Deacon
pries her hands away from mine so everyone else can look at the ring,
glimmering under the sun on another lucky summer’s day.

“But-” Emma shoots a look to Brad, who shrugs.

“I got a letter too. I’m not contesting that.” He
nods towards Deacons hand, his fingers locked between mine, “That’s romantic
movie and novel shit.”

“Watch your language.” Emma chastises before turning
back to me, “It’s about time I got a daughter.”

She crushes me to her, and I struggle to breathe.

Deacon props his crutches against the table, sitting
down and extending his legs so they rest on the chair I was sitting on. When
Emma releases me, I sit on Deac’s lap, my legs swinging leisurely a few inches
from the floor. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into his chest and
it’s where I plan to sit all day.

“If you’re done feeling up my sister, are you up for
a game of golf?” Jonas stands, followed by Dad, Steve and Bradley, “Shit, your
leg. I forgot.”

“I could still beat your sorry, hairy arse with a
broken leg.” Deacon leans over to give him a backhand to the arm, “I’m choosing
to stay here with my fiancé.”

There’s that word again. The word that has my insides
all twisted up and my brain somewhere with the fairies. I wonder what it’ll
feel like when he calls me his wife. I’m already lightheaded just thinking
about it.

“I love you.” I whisper, kissing his cheek and
laughing as the boys run off, pushing and shoving each other.

“So much it hurts.” Deacon replies.

Things won't be easy, I know they won't. But he is
worth it. He has to be. We have to be. After everything we’ve been through,
everything we’ve lost, or nearly lost. Everything we’ve put on the line, and
everything we’ve gained from being together. It’s hard to explain the way I
feel about my future husband without sounding cliché. He’s my sun and my moon.
He’s the reason I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night. He’s the
reason I bake, always has been. He’s the reason life makes sense, it only ever
does when we’re together. He’s the reason I hear birds sing in the trees and
smile in anticipation when I hear children laughing on the beach. He’s my sponge,
my icing and my sugar strands.

He’s my best friend.

He’s the love of my life.

He’s everything.

December 2014

I sit back in my chair and finish off my cup of tea.
I've got plans and budgets and rotas spread all over the desk, but the words
and numbers are a jumble. I really should hire someone to do all this stuff,
but then it just adds more pressure because I’ll have to watch over them. I rub
furiously at my temples, and bang my head on the desk, leaving it there while I
groan out my frustration.

I won't let myself regret going away, even though
after being back six weeks, the office is still all over the place. I just
haven’t bothered with it, and now this shitty Monday where I’ll probably spend
all night here, can only be blamed on me. I sit up and sink a few pills before
putting my head back on the desk. I need to organise these notes, that’s what I
need to do. I just want to block out this mess. No one prepares you when you
own a business, for what happens when you go on holiday.

“I promise to be yours forever,           

I promise to hold you as mine,

I promise to be your lover, your soul mate

As you are mine, the other half of myself.

I promise to hold you when you cry,

I promise to laugh when you laugh,

And comfort you when you need it.

I’ll be your forever, as you are mine.

I promise to love you until I take my last breath.

To be your best friend,

Your hero.

For as long as we both shall live.”

I wish I could go back to that day. It was a typical
wedding, to anyone on the outside. The bride wore an ivory dress. The groom
wore a grey suit. The bridesmaids dressed in pastel yellow dresses. The best
man passed on the ring. The vicar read the same lines he reads all the time.
But the vowels were personal. We wrote them in secret, not letting each other
know what we had written. The entire church could have been full of strangers,
because all that mattered was us. That’s the way it’s always been; we hid
behind meaningless sex and meaningless relationships, but all we ever wanted
was each other. And now we have it. The pasts are behind us, only the moment
we’re in now matters and it’s such a refreshing and empowering feeling that I
pine for the other half of me, when I’m supposed to be running a business.

The phone rings and I have to answer it, seeing as
I’m supposed to be working and not reminiscing about the best day and night of
my twenty eight years of life. I was expecting the call, had it penned in my
diary. And I go through the motions of updating the records for the business in
London; filling in the boxes to copy to the computer when I have the motivation
to do it. Probably in bed tonight, while my other, better half, sleeps
peacefully after a day of hard and productive work.

“Hold the phone.” I snap as a thought hits me. I don't
know where it came from, “Patch me through to Gabby.”

The secretary puts me on hold and I drum my fingers
on the desk as I wait for the project manager in London to pick up.

“Hello, Mr. Reid,” she chirps, “I trust you had a
good break.”

“Yeah, thanks. It was much needed but there’s so much
shit to deal with here now.”

“Anything we can help you with?”

Gabrielle is a forty-something year old woman with
four children and a granddaughter; but I know exactly what she’s thinking. It’s
not right.

I beefed back up after my stint as a handicap. I did
put weight on, because of my wife’s incredible cooking. As soon as my leg came
out of the cast I enrolled in self-taught physiotherapy and hit the garden gym
hard. The weight came of quickly, and thanks to Jenna’s cooking, I’m eating a
healthy balanced diet instead of the takeaway or pub food I used to live on and
I’ve leaned out. Apparently, thanks to my Scandinavian routes, I appeal to a
larger demographic because I’m not as big and scary. I don't understand it,
either.

“Yeah, actually. Gabrielle, can you look to get in
some new recruits. I have plenty of labourers who know what they’re doing now.
I can push them up the rankings, get some kids in on an apprenticeship and get
the work done.”

I've got a holiday complex, a retirement home and a
leisure centre to build in six months. It sounds like a long time, but if it
doesn’t start soon we’ll miss the deadline for autumn next year.

“I can do that,” Gabrielle replies, obviously pissed
that I’m using her full name, “I can get a page up on the site tonight, and get
some immediate starts.”

“Great, thanks. Is Ted in the office? I just want to
run it past him.”

“Sure thing.”

I decided to take up working alongside my dad’s
lifelong friend after he helped out here after the crash. Truth is, I did need
some help; the bloke has been running the London offices since I was a kid, and
he helped me pull some shit together.

“Hey.” He answers and I hear his worn leather chair
squeak, “How was the honeymoon?”

“It was good.” I answer, not wanting to talk about
something that is so personal to us. I wish people would stop asking about it,
“Did Gabby tell you what I said?”

“Sure did. What salary are you thinking?”

“No set salary. Pay by the day. It’s manual labour,
it’s gotta be cheap,” I say, swivelling my chair round and round, “it was just
an idea. I’m struggling to-”

Jenna walks in the door, wrapped up like we live in
the Arctic and shakes the snow out of her hair. I watch as the snowflakes fall
to the carpet and melt, leaving her hair a tangle of messy tresses. Her nose is
red, her cheeks redder and she’s unzipping her coat.

“Deacon?” Ted calls.

“I’m here.” I answer, but I’m gone.

I hear Ted’s voice, but I block him out as I watch
Jenna rid herself of her coat, hat, scarf and gloves. And then her knitted
jumper comes off, revealing her long sleeved white t-shirt underneath. It’s
tight enough that I can see the outline of her stomach muscles and the cups of
her daring pink bra. It’s barely keeping her assets contained, and I’m barely
keeping my composure. I love that she can do this to me - stop my world and
then turn it on its axis. She saunters towards me slowly, her hips swaying in
her dark skinny jeans. She’s got her fuck-me boots on. They are knee length and
black with a little heel. I bought them for her, and then fucked her while she
was wearing nothing but them. Jenna leans over me, gripping the arms of my
chair and pushes me away so she can slide in and take her rightful place on my
desk. The last thing I want to be doing is work, and I think about what I could
be doing to Jenna instead.

She beckons me towards her and with the phone still
on my ear, I scoot between her legs. My favourite place to be, apart from the
warm little blanket that is her heart.

I love it when she bites her lip; it has direct
access to my groin and I harden as her eyes trail over my trousers. Freeing her
lip, Jenna leans forward and pulls the receiver from my ear. I exert minimal
effort to stop her, and she holds it to her ear, pressing a leather-clad foot
either side of my legs.

“Ted, it’s Jenna.” I can't hear Ted’s reply, “We
came back still married so I’d say we had a good honeymoon. Listen, I need him
to help me out with something. Can he call you back?”

She nods at whatever Ted’s response is, and puts the
phone on the hook.

“You need help?” I ask.

I promise to be yours,

And to call you mine,

I promise to be your lover, your companion,

And your sidekick.

I promise to tell you everyday how much I love you.

You are the other half of my soul.

I promise to be your lemon drizzle,

Your butterscotch,

And everything in between.

I promise to be your best friend, beyond my last
days.

You are my hero, and I love you.

So much it hurts.”

Jenna shakes her head, “Nope.”

“Okay?” I furrow my brows and narrow my eyes.

“Can't a woman visit her husband at work?”

“Yes.” I groan, running my nails up and down her
jeans, hearing the scrape of the denim, “Yes. You can.”

“Good.”
She leans over and kisses my cheek, “How’s it going?”

She gestures to the paperwork her incredible
backside is sitting on, and then frowns. Something’s up.

“Could be worse. Could be better, but I’m not
drowning yet.” I answer, but I’m too focused about the look on her face. Her
eyes are glowing in the way I’ve noticed they do when we’re together. But she’s
biting the inside of her cheek. That’s never good, “What’s the matter?”

“Do you want me to help you? I sold controlling
interest for the London shops this afternoon,” that’s good news so why the
nervousness? “I’ll still get a cut of the profit, but I sold all
responsibility. I could be your secretary.”

She winks at me and my heart stops. I don't
understand how she can be playful and fidgety at the same time.

“You want to be my secretary?” I can't help playing
along, as the images of her fill my mind, “Don't divert the question.”

“I could be your secretary.” She swaps her cheek for
her bottom lip and I’m drawn to that perfect mouth of hers, “I would be at your
beck and call. Whatever you desire, I could arrange it,” She leans forward and
rests her forearms on my shoulders, her face inches from mine, “Of course it
would be a temporary arrangement. A six month contract.”

“Why would it be temporary?” Please tell me she’s
not planning on leaving me in advance.

“I got you a present.”

She kicks my chair away with her feet and slides off
the desk. Her t-shirt rides up, exposing her stomach with the tan still
lingering on her skin and makes her way around the desk. I didn’t realise she
brought anything in with her, but then I see a white cardboard box on top of
the filing cabinet next to the door. The filing cabinet that holds too many
jobs to count that need to be transferred to the computer. Another task. But I
don't think of that now. Why is Jenna acting shifty, when she’s interrupted my
day to bring me cakes? She’s all over the place.

“Stop changing the subject,” I snap as the paranoia
builds, “what’s going on?”

“I spent the morning baking. I had business first
thing but then I made these afterwards.”

“Is it bad?” I ask as she walks back round to the
desk and sets the cakes down before leaning against it.

She ignores my question again; she’s always been
good at that. But this time she pulls me into her by the collar of my shirt and
crashes her mouth to mine. I lose it quickly, fisting my hands into her hair
and holding her to me. Jenna’s breath quickens and her hands tighten around the
material of my shirt. I drop my hands to her waist and pull her onto my lap,
grinding up to her as my need for her grows. She releases a moan as my tongue
seeks out hers and I feel my cock twitch in impatience.

“Get them off.” I push her back and tug on her
jeans, lifting myself off the chair to lower my trousers just enough. Jenna
pulls her boots and trousers off her frantically and I couldn't give a fuck
what she’s hiding right now. I have to be inside her. She rushes back on to my
lap, her hands on my shoulders, her body hovering above mine, protected only by
the lacy pink thong I watched her put on this morning. I use one hand to slip
it to the side and push one finger inside her.

“Jen.” I say through gritted teeth as I feel her
juices run down my finger.

“I’m so hot for you.” She breathes through a moan,
“Fuck me. Now.”

I don't need telling twice. Using one hand to
position myself I pull her hips down and bury myself inside her, biting on her
neck as she tightens around me. I hold her wrists behind her back with one hand
and use the other to set her pace, rubbing that sweet spot deep inside her that
drives her crazy. She’s desperate to touch me, to claw at my chest and pull my
hair, but I want to watch her. Jenna throws her head back, her hair tickling my
thighs and moans my name breathlessly. It doesn’t take long before she’s
screaming in ecstasy and trembling around me; her body spasms as she comes
violently and squeezes the hand holding her captive. I free her and she pounds
her hands into my chest. She digs her nails in and scrapes them down my shirt
and I come undone, stilling her as I pour into her. She drops her head to my shoulder
and whispers in my ear.

“God, I love you.”

“You just love me for my body.” I tease as I try to get
my breath back.

“My body.” She corrects, biting my shoulder and sits
up, climbing off me.

I watch our combined juices drip down her leg, and
I’m sure I could go again this second. I have to look away to stop from taking
her again as she pulls tissues out of the box, cleans herself up and pulls her
jeans back on. My eyes rest back on the cake box on my desk.