Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “Exactly. They’re in the past.”

  “But why can't you see it’s not fair? That I have a boyfriend, but I hate the thought of you touching anyone but me.”

  “Not for me. I don't need them.”

  “So I’m filling in, because I won't make demands or interrupt your life to roll around in the sack for a bit.”

  “They’re your words, not mine.”

  Our starters arrive, but neither of us register the waitress bringing them over.

  “Have you had sex with him since we slept together?”

  “Deacon!”

  “Shh.” She puts half of her garlic bread on my plate and I give her half my prawns. We always used to do that as kids, “Answer the question.”

  “No.”

  “Why?” She shrugs, “Jenna. I’m not gonna answer all the questions and then you shy away.”

  “Fine. No I haven’t.” She snaps, and I won't push her any further away by pressing her on it.

  ~

  “Where are we going now?” Jenna asks as we make our way back to town, full from three courses at the restaurant.

  “Surprise,” I tap the side of my nose and pull up outside the park, “you fancy some trespassing?”

  “Are you kidding?” I nod, “Seriously?”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  That’s what I said to her that night on the beach. We just look at each other, knowing I asked her that before I kissed her. The ultimate test of her sense of adventure. And ruined everything.

  “If I fall or go to prison, I’m blaming you.”

  She winks but slides out of the car and gets to the fence of the old park we used to walk through twice a day, before and after school.

  “Wait.” She says as I shut the door and point the key at the car.

  She throws her heels at me and I catch them one by one, and put them in the back of the car. I get back to the gate where she’s waiting for me.

  “We’re really going to do this?” She asks, thinking I’m calling her bluff.

  “This was part of my plan. We’re really doing this.”

  I smile as she rolls her eyes and turns away from me, towards the fence. She puts her hands on her hips and looks up at the top, obviously wondering how she’ll make it over. But instead of asking for help, she pulls the bottom of her skirt up so it’s bunched around the tops of her shapely legs. Jenna lifts her hands in the air, stretching up on tip toes to grab the fence as high as she can and pulls herself up. I watch, mesmerised, as she manoeuvres herself over the fence, drops elegantly to the floor and looks back at me, her hands on her hips again.

  “You thought I wouldn’t be able to do it.” She grins.

  “Let’s just say I’m impressed you could,” I make short work of the climb over and join her on the other side, “you’re tiny.”

  “I’m not tiny. You have no say because you’re huge.” She bumps her shoulder into me as we walk along the path, “why did we come here?”

  “I wanted a night of just us. No drama, no one watching. How much trouble can you get into in a closed park?”

  “You mean like the time you dragged me to the skate park so you could impress some girls. Fell off your little BMX, broke your ankle and cried because the girls laughed at you?”

  “You’re a real treasure, you know that?” I settle my arm over her shoulders and notice the shiver spread through her body, “I was ten.”

  “You asked about trouble in the park. I gave you an example.” She smiles, obviously amused.

  We get to the playground, the swings swaying and creaking in the breeze. I hold the gate open and Jenna steps through, making a beeline for the swings – apparently still her favourite.

  “It’s spooky here at night.” Jenna says as I sit on the swing next to hers and watch her work her legs to get going.

  “It’s quiet. Quiet is perfect.”

  “I thought you loved the city.” She says on an exhaled breath as she swings past, her intoxicating scent surrounding me.

  I don't answer her question; just continue to watch her swing, while digging my feet into the sand beneath us. The wind flies through her hair, blowing it in all different directions and it whips across her face. Her excited smile takes over and she giggles, swinging her legs in and out. In and out. Everything about this woman is like a work of art; and she has no idea how perfect she is.

  “How are you feeling after yesterday?” Jenna has stopped swinging and I guess I zoned out, because I didn’t notice her stop and look at me. Through me. Whatever it is she does to make me feel like this.

  I shrug; I don't really want to talk about yesterday.

  “Okay,” she says, understanding that it’s not something I want to discuss, “but I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

  “I’m more interested in discussing your refurb.”

  “Deacon-”

  “Let me talk,” I interrupt her, “I know you need it done. Just let me do it.”

  She’s quiet, and isn’t looking at me, “I’m not in a rush for it.”

  “I know that’s bullshit. How much money are you making?”

  She shakes her head, and jumps off the swing. I don't know if I’m supposed to leave her – if she’ll be angry at me for asking about her finances. But I follow her to the skate park, and watch as she runs up one of the ramps and sits at the top, her legs swinging as she looks down at me. This girl amazes me.

  “Am I supposed to join you up there?”

  She nods, smirking and it takes me all of three strides to get to the top, and I sit down next to her.

  “It’s too much,” She says.

  “What’s too much?”

  “This. Us,” She takes a deep breath and looks at me, her eyes sparkling under the orange lamps scattered around the park, “I can't stop thinking about you. I dream about you. I look for you wherever I go. Working with you... You’d consume me. I don't know if I could take it.”

  I’m silent. She’s stunned me. Her admission is everything; everything I hoped she felt and everything I knew I felt. She hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it.

  “I know you designed your house.” It’s a whisper, I’m almost unsure if she really said it.

  “What makes you think I designed it?”

  She said that before, when she was sitting at my kitchen table.

  “Why is it such a secret?” She asks, her eyes narrow as she studies me, “Why are you embarrassed?”

  “I didn’t design it,” I close my eyes. I can’t lie to her face.

  “Deac,” her voice begs me to look at her, so I do. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her, “I found the drawing.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t come back to the city. Brad and Jonas came to clear out your room and I helped them. I found the drawing in a pile of papers to be thrown out,” she purses her lips and frowns, “I couldn't let them throw it out.”

  “Why?” I have to clear my throat, trying to keep the threatening emotions at bay.

  “It was you. On paper.” She pauses, and we’re both emotional, over an old piece of paper with a drawing of a house on, “I couldn't have you for real. You didn’t come back. That drawing made you feel closer to me than anything else.”

  “Shit.”

  “Sorry.” She sniffs, rummaging in her bag for a tissue.

  “What for?”

  She doesn’t answer me; if I couldn't see her rummaging in my peripheral as I look out onto the deserted playground, I’d think she was gone.

  “Here,” I turn to look at her, and see the drawing in her hand. She’s holding it out to me, and the corners of the paper are blowing in the light wind. “I feel like you should have this.”

  “Jenna.” I reach out to take it from her and hold it in both hands and bring it to my chest, “You have no idea how important this shitty little paper was to me.”

  “I feel it. I had to keep it safe.”


  The paper is worn, curled in the corners and thin where it’s been folded for six years. There are dots on the paper; they’re hard and I rub over them with my thumb.

  “Sorry,” Jenna laughs through her emotion and wipes her eyes with her thumbs, “they’re tears.”

  She’s crying for me. She feels the significance of this drawing before I’ve even told her the story behind it.

  “I designed this with my dad.”

  She gasps, “You did?”

  “I did. I wanted to go into partnership with him when I got back from travelling. We set ourselves a challenge designing that house the summer before he died. To see how long it’d take us to get it done once we were working together. It was the first thing I did with my inheritance money.”

  “I’m so sorry, Deac.”

  “Thank you for giving it back. Can I keep it?” Jenna nods and I tuck in the pocket of my shirt, “I’ve got a box of stuff he kept for me. Brad got one too. I can't look in it, but this is enough.”

  “You’ll look in it when the time is right.”

  I nod, then shake the sombre atmosphere from my mind by shaking my head, before I jump up and stand behind her.

  “I know what the time is right for, now.” I sit down again, behind her this time with my legs either side of her.

  “What?” I hear her smile and curiosity in her voice.

  I push us off the edge and we slide down the ramp, Jenna gripping my thighs and releasing a giggle that makes my heart constrict and the overwhelming emotion bubbles to the surface.

  Chapter 18

  Jenna

  Something has changed tonight. I don't know what it is but this feels different. Deacon and I land at the bottom of the ramp and I’m in a fit of laughter. Deacon climbs up from behind me and pulls me to my feet, leading me to the roundabout.

  “You remember what I’m like on roundabouts.” I warn him, because when Jenna and roundabouts collide, it’s not pretty.

  “I remember.” He smiles, squeezing my hand. I didn’t even realise we were still holding on to each other, but it sends a shiver down my spine and I grip him tighter.

  I step up onto the roundabout and sit down, the steel cold on my bare legs. Deacon holds on to the bar and pushes off gently with one foot, sitting next to me as we both look up at the stars. I reach out and take his hand again. I know it’s wrong; I know I’m the one who’s wrong, but it just feels so right when my hand is in his. There’s an incredible size difference between us – everything about Deacon is big; his hands, his height, his build. I’ve always been petite, but I have a backside which has no hopes of shrinking, and boobs which fall out of anything without adequate support. Considering there’s twelve full inches of height between us, and a lot of muscle, we just...fit.

  “Deacon?” I ask as the sky spins above me slowly, sending me into a trance.

  “Hmm?” I raise my head to see Deacon is looking at me, not at the twinkling beauty above us.

  “This feels...” I cut myself off, take a deep breath and start again, “Does this feel different to you?”

  Deacon smiles and understands what I’m trying to say, without saying the words, and lifts his free hand to my cheek. I nuzzle into the warmth, suddenly feeling cold from the night air and whatever it is that has shifted between us tonight.

  “Yeah, it feels different.” He strokes his rough thumb across my cheek, slowly and rhythmically, “This is how we should have done this the first time.”

  “Done what?”

  “Fallen in love.”

  Before I can react to what he’s just said; the declaration he’s made without declaring. Before the confusion registers in my brain, Deacon’s lips are on mine and I'm lost in a sea of sensation. I want this, I need this. Even as our lips move to our usual starved rhythm and my body yearns for his touch, I have no intentions of taking this further, or letting him give but not take. Tonight felt right, without any sex, any physical contact beyond the odd touch. It has been perfect, spending time with Deacon, not as we used to as best friends, but as something on a deeper level.

  “I should take you home.” Deacon pulls back and looks at me, his thumb resuming the pattern on my cheek.

  I nod my agreement, realising I’m not panicking about leaving him. I’m not worried that one of us will go home, wondering what happened or having to replay events in order for them to make sense. Tonight has been special; nothing has been spoken about, nothing has been resolved. But I think we needed it, just the way it’s been.

  I’m in the shop the next morning, dressed in oversized tracksuit bottoms and a paint splattered vest of Jonas’, scraping wallpaper off the walls, when my phone rings. I jump off the step ladder I’m on to see who’s calling, and guiltily want to let it go to voicemail when I see it’s Kip ringing. I know this relationship isn’t working, but I can't end it. I’ve never done it before and I’m reluctant to call of something that works, when I’m still not convinced the only man I’ll ever want is in this for the long haul.

  “Hi, Kip.” I answer, putting the phone to my ear and climbing back up the ladder.

  “Hi, baby. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just in the shop. Did you make the booking for Saturday?”

  “Uh, no,” he’s quiet for a long minute, “I thought I’d just come to you again. Can you make a reservation at that fish restaurant?”

  “Okay. You don't like fish.”

  “It’s a special occasion. I got that bonus at work. Invite the family, on me. And your mum’s friends and their sons, you’re friendly with the big blond one aren’t you?”

  “I’ll speak to them about it, Kip. But my father won't let you pay for feeding his family.” He’s silent, waiting for me to answer his other question, “Yes, Deacon and I used to be close. I guess we’re getting on alright. I’ll ask Emma.”

  “Great, I can't wait.”

  “Me either.” I lie.

  Kip rushes me off the phone, and his energy annoys me. He’s not a bouncy, inquisitive kind of person so it’s pissed me off that he asked about my friendship with Deacon. I’m used to Kip only thinking about himself, and thinking of me when it comes to accompanying him to a company dinner, or to the theatre, or out to dinner. Not that we talk about anything when we do go. We mostly talk about Kip. I thought I could sort my head out, figure out what’s going on, without him being suspicious and me getting paranoid, but I guess not.

  I head to the deli for lunch; it’s full of holidaymakers and regulars, and the town is bustling with energy. I forgot how great it feels to be surrounded by people, but the good weather has brought all kinds of people to Folquay, and I love it. I pick up a cheese sandwich and get to the back of the queue. Dennis, who runs the sandwich shop with his wife, is busy chatting away to customers and when it’s my turn he steps back and studies me.

  “My, my, Jenna Rivera.” He laughs playfully and I twirl for him, “I forget people in this town grow up. Doing some decorating?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to start getting some work done on the shop.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He grabs a carrier bag and puts my sandwich and bottle of water in it, “I heard you were taking over the bakery.”

  He hands me my bag and closes my hand when I offer out the right amount of money in change.

  “This one’s on me. It’s good to have you back.”

  “Thanks, Dennis. It was good to see you.”

  I rush out of the deli when I notice Carl is calling me, and head round the corner to the shop before I answer it.

  “Hey, Carl.” I put my sandwich on the side and open up the bottle of water.

  “Hey, sweet cheeks,” I’ve missed him, “How’s it going?”

  “To shit. To absolute shit.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. I don't think there’s enough time to explain what’s been going on here, and wouldn’t know where to start if there was. Is everything okay with the shop?”

  “Yeah, we’re quiet. Lunch time rush just finished and I’
ve got the girls baking for later.” There’s a pause, “I was just wondering when I’ll see my favourite boss again.”

  “Soon. I’ve got to come sort out my room. And I want to see you guys too.”

  “Have you got a date in mind?” I hear the till going, and know he’s cashing up after the second rush of the day, “I’ll sort out movie night. Maybe get some Thai and a bottle of wine.”

  “Make that a crate.” I sigh, “I’m thinking one day next week, maybe. Will probably be a weekday though, Kip comes down most weekends and doesn’t like being fobbed off.”

  “Yeah, he was in here last week, asking to look at the accounts.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, said you sent him to get some info for the accountant. Only I’d sent all the paperwork off that morning. He was just checking up on me.”

  “Yeah, or me.” I confess, “He’s snooping.”

  We finish our conversation and unease washes over me. What is Kip doing? There is no reason for him to be fishing about in the shop, and I’m in half a mind to call him back and find out what his game is. But the bell chiming the minute I sit down to eat, has me excited, and I skip lunch altogether.

  I love next day delivery.

  ~

  “Jesus, I told them to make sure everything went by the book. We could get thrown off this job.” Deacon is on the phone when I open the door to his office, “Why the fuck did they get a qualification in scaffolding if they don't follow the most important fucking rule?”

  I take a step back, ready to come back later but Deacon clicks his fingers and beckons me to come in. He doesn’t look at me, hasn’t since I walked in, and I love that he still knew I was there. He’s scribbling something down on paper and listening to the person on the other end of the phone.

  “How many of them?” he asks, looking up at me as I stand in front of his desk with my box, my car keys swing from my finger. He mouths ‘sorry’ before carrying on his conversation, “That many. That’s ridiculous. I’ve got ten men on that one job... I want them here in this office before they go near that scaffolding again.”