Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “I’m sorry? What did you just say?”

  “Do you want to go for a drink in The Duck tonight?”

  “Yes. Yes I do. Nine?”

  “Nine’s good. Send me Jonas’ number I’ll see if he can make it.”

  “Right,” he says, sceptical, “See you at nine.”

  He hangs up and I sigh, wondering what made me decide to go to a pub with people I haven’t been out with for over five years.

  Because I need a drink. I’m walking around with a raging hard on because I have to use my truck for work and all I can think about is Jenna on Friday night, stripping her clothes off while I tried desperately to watch and keep us alive on country lanes, simultaneously. Yeah, I need a drink.

  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.

  Chapter 10

  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 a
re 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.