Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “Nope,” he grins, “I’ve got it.”

  “I don't even want to know.” I put my hands on his shoulders, waiting for him to lift me off.

  The sounds of conversation and movement round the shop cut off like they’ve been sucked from the atmosphere. The only sound in the room is someone’s gasp as Deacon cups my face and kisses me. Really kisses me, like he’s starved for me, and I want to cry again.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says freeing me, and then he’s gone.

  “Jen?” Mum and Emma ask together.

  “It’s going to work out.” I assure them as I slide off the counter, “I promise.”

  The shop is freezing first thing in the morning. We stopped baking around three am and all fell asleep sitting against the wall drinking tea. I wake up first and snuggle into Deacon’s sweatshirt for warmth, and it still smells like him. I run my hands through my sleep-tussled hair and stand up, stretching before I go to the back for tea. No one mentioned what happened last night; either because they’re realising I need to talk about things in my own time, or because they were all that shocked that we kissed in full view of every one.

  “Well that was like firework night.” Jade makes me jump, “So you’re, like, with him?”

  “He’s what I want, Jade.” I reach up for more cups realising everyone will be up soon, “He’s what I was put on this earth for.”

  “Finally!” She throws her hands in the air, and her hands land on my shoulder, “Finally, you get it.”

  I smile and open my mouth to talk, but we’re interrupted by Emma, and I try to avoid eye contact. She’s going to be mad after last night; I managed to avoid her for the rest of the time we spent baking, but I’m dreading what she has to say.

  “Hi, Kip!” I hear Grace shriek from the front of the shop, and I know it’s in warning.

  I’m grateful for it as I whip the sweatshirt over my head and throw it in the cupboard under the counter.

  “Morning girls.” He says, “I brought coffee.”

  I flip the kettle back off and take a deep breath before walking out front to greet him.

  “Thanks.” I take one from him and give him an awkward kiss on the cheek.

  “No worries, baby. We’ve all got to do our part.” He’s back to thinking everything’s okay, “How was your Chinese?”

  Or he really does think this is some sort of battle.

  “It was perfect.” Emma glares at him, “Perfect timing and so thoughtful.”

  She declines coffee and disappears into the back again. I smile apologetically at him as Dad, Jonas and Brad walk in the door. My brother looks awful and I laugh.

  “We’ll set up.” Dad says, limping to the nearest chair.

  “Pa, your knee is bad.” Jade points out, before I can.

  “I’m fine. Go and shower.” He laughs to himself, “No one will buy your cakes if you smell.”

  After some persuading from my dad, and Mum finally relenting, Jade, Grace and Emma head back to Emma’s to shower and change, and Mum and I go home.

  “Do you want to eat before we go back?” Mum asks, heading straight for the kitchen.

  “No, I’m good. I’m waiting on a hot dog from the barbecue.”

  We’ve had a few days of terrible weather, but the sun has come out for the fete, and I plan on wearing the black summer dress Mum bought when I first got back, today. If I’m going to be on my feet serving cakes all afternoon, I’ll wear my flip-flops; I can take them off if it gets too –

  “Hot.” I say out loud as I walk in my room and see Deacon in my bed, his arms crossed behind his head.

  “Morning, beautiful.” He smiles.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I told you I’d be in your bed.” He chuckles, “If London-Boy gets all day with you, I get the morning.”

  “That’s not how it works.” I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t but I lean down and kiss him. I missed him, “I need to shower.”

  “Have you got plans for tonight?”

  “You know I can't see you tonight. He knows, he hasn’t said anything, but he knows.”

  “So call off the engagement.” He says, as if it’s that easy.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Why not?”

  “Deac,” I kiss him again, “I really need to get back. We’ll talk about this, I promise. Just not now.”

  He nods and throws the sheets back. He’s completely naked underneath. I can't help but stare, before my brain realises I’m supposed to keep my head clear, at least for today. My head will not be clear after seeing Deacon in all his glory, lying in my bed.

  “I want you out before I come back.” I laugh and throw a pillow at him on the way out of the bedroom.

  The fete is busy, full of locals and tourists; so many families and couples with children or dogs. I get to sit down on one of the chairs at our stall before we get hounded. Mum has been roped into helping out with tombola, Emma is off making herself busy so people don't ask how she’s doing, and Grace and Jonas are walking around with Jade, Steve and Phillipa. So it’s just Kip and I standing at the stall, waiting.

  “How was boy’s night?” I ask to make conversation.

  “It was okay,” he sighs, “your dad fell asleep and Jonas and your friend went out to buy you dinner.”

  “Yeah,” I start, realising they won't even say each other’s names, “Jonas bought food for his girlfriend, and Deacon thought he’d treat his lonely, widowed mother to a Chinese takeaway.”

  He doesn’t reply, and we stand in an awkward silence until the stall is flooded with people.

  The kid’s cakes sell out first; the monkey faces go quickly, as do the treasure map vanilla cupcakes and the strawberry cakes decorated with jellies. When the parents realise I’ve gone all out and made decadent cakes, they go quickly and I have to send Kip back to the shop for the rest of the cakes before we sell out.

  “How’s it going?” I turn to see Brad looking at what cakes are left.

  “Good. I’ve got some more on the way if you want to wait.”

  “I will.” He smiles and I crouch down to stroke Sasha when I realise he’s got her, “When’s he off home?”

  “Tonight, hopefully.”

  “Okay boys!” Ms. Peyton shouts, walking through the crowds of people to stand on a podium in the middle, “I need teams for the annual tug of war! Mr. Reid has already volunteered as team captain, anyone wish to head the challenging team?!

  “I will!” Kip shouts, thumping the crates on the table and waving his hand in the air.

  “Please tell me you’re the volunteering Reid brother.” I say to Brad as he looks over the new arrivals and smiles.

  “Nope.”

  Chapter 27

  Deacon

  The constant rain of the last few days gives way to a break in the clouds and sunshine in time for Sunday’s fete, and I’m on the way there with Brad, who’s fortunate enough to have Sasha for the day. She’s skipping along, the pink lead dangling from Brad’s hand and I shake my head.

  “You can't use your own lead for her?” I ask.

  “Funny,” he cackles in response and looks at his hand, “I didn’t even notice that before.”

  “I’m sure it’s part of Rach’s cock-blocking plan.”

  Crazy bitch. Their relationship was enough to put the strongest-willed men off the opposite sex for life. I know, from going to school with her, and her making herself way too available when she was dating my brother, that she’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic basket.

  “And what about your master plan?” He punches me in the shoulder, “You think Kip will get any in a bed that been marked your territory?”

  He laughs; he’s clearly getting his kicks from my predicament.

  “Jesus, I didn’t piss on the sheets.”

  “How did you get it anyway?” We stop, waiting for Sasha to stop scratching at his legs, “Where did the fiancé sleep?”

  “On the sofa.” I say with a lot more
gloating than I was hoping for, “I won because technically I’m family. Didn’t even have to ask. I got there first yesterday and Esteban gave us the talk. Said he wasn’t comfortable with London-Boy sleeping upstairs.”

  “Sweet.” He grins, managing to peel the dog from him, “At least Riv’s on your side.”

  “Yeah. He’s on the side lines with his foam hand and a banner.”

  Brad laughs, but I’m not sure if I find it funny. The whole situation is out of control; Jenna didn’t seem too keen to get rid of him when I spoke to her earlier, and it worries me that she still doubts what’s going on between us - it’ll be harder for her to call off her engagement the longer she’s in it.

  “Deacon?” I stop still, hearing the dancing steps behind me and curse when Brad laughs and continues walking.

  “Liz.” I turn around in time for Lizzie to hug me her hello, “I thought we were done talking.”

  “Don't be such a man.” She playfully slaps me on the chest, and I just pray Jenna is nowhere near us, “My aunt saw you with Bradley. She wanted me to ask you about the tug of war.”

  “What about it?”

  “Will you do it?”

  I shake my head and carry on walking, unsurprised when she quickly catches up and skips along next to me.

  “No.”

  “Please?” She grips the top of my arm, but I pull out of her hold. This needs to stop, “if we get another load of skinny dads doing it, it’ll be a big flop.”

  “So ask someone else who isn’t skinny.”

  She rolls her eyes, “If people know you're doing it, it’ll be like a personal challenge. We’ll have them queuing to go up against you.”

  “Great.”

  “Please just say you’ll do it. It’s just tugging on a rope,” she strokes her hand down my arm, “I’m sure you’ll rock it.”

  She reaches for my jeans and I step back, needing to get out of this situation and wondering why this street isn’t as busy as I want it to be.

  “Fine, as long as you back off, I’ll do the fucking tug of war.”

  She claps her hands and screeches that annoying sound that makes my teeth grind and I find it unusually easy to continue walking and not look back as she dances away.

  “Thanks for that,” I say to Brad when I notice he’s on the corner of the street waiting, “glad you got my back.”

  “Always, little brother.” He thrusts the pink lead into my hand and scarpers before I have time to fight him over it.

  ~

  “Okay boys!” Ms Peyton squeals as she climbs up on the makeshift stage in the middle of the crowd, “I need teams for the annual tug of war! Mr. Reid has already volunteered as team captain, anyone wish to head the challenging team?!”

  “I will!” Comes an annoying familiar voice and I look over to Jenna’s stall and see Kip waving his hands in the air like an idiot.

  Brad is over by the stall with the dog and laughs at the expression on Jenna’s face. Yes, apparently her fiancé and I are going to be on opposing teams in a display of macho-man strength. This can only go wrong for me; I either lose and look like an idiot in front of the newcomer who just won't go away, or I win and look like the villain for embarrassing him. Either way, this ends badly.

  “The game is on in fifteen minutes, sign up boys!” Ms. Peyton cries and the crowds gather around the stage. Lizzie was right.

  I take the time I have to go over to the cake stall, arriving at the same time as Jade, who’s helping Jen with selling.

  “You can't stay away for five minutes?” Kip asks, glaring at me.

  He pulls Jen into him by the waist and I hear the breath escape her in a rush from the force. She makes no secret of trying to pull away from him, and I try to control my anger.

  “I fancy a cake,” I keep my eyes on his arm around Jenna, “I worked up an appetite last night making sure your fiancé was fed and comfortable.”

  I get the desired effect, and he lets go; I watch Jenna rub at her hip and look back to Kip and notice he’s squaring up to me.

  “You're kidding, right?” I laugh, “Mate, don't embarrass yourself.”

  I brush some crumbs off his posh polo-neck top and walk away.

  “Tell me again I need to accept that he’s in your life.” I hear him say as I walk away and my smug smile evaporates.

  So he has said something to Jenna; I thought she was being paranoid when she said he knew. I grimace, hoping I haven’t just made things worse for her, before Ms. Peyton grabs me and pulls me towards where the tug of war is being set up.

  The crowd is already gathered in the centre of the fete and I’m standing towards the middle of the rope, feeling like an idiot for agreeing to do this. The last thing I want to do is draw any attention to myself.

  “Deac?” Jonas asks, tapping me on the back and taping some red tape around his wrist. The colour of the team opposite me, “Don't think I’m being an arse. I think he’s a stuck up rich boy and I’ll be glad when my sister kicks him to the curb. But I’ve got to make life easier for her.”

  “J, it’s cool. I don't want to do this anyway.”

  We shake hands and he takes his place in his team. It doesn’t matter than he’s on the team, if he’s thinking of Jen; but I’m glad I got Brad and Steve behind me. At least if we lose, I won't be the only one embarrassed; none of us are small guys and we can take the humiliation together. Everyone gets into position, and I wish team leaders went at the back, because I’m six feet from Kip and clearly he’s still got a vendetta against me; he’s taking this way too seriously.

  “Ready?” Someone shouts. I think it’s Ms. Peyton’s husband, “Three, two, one, go!”

  I try not to be competitive, but it consumes me as I watch Kip try with all his might to floor me. Instantly, I couldn't care less about embarrassing him, or being the bad guy; the gratification of beating him is worth being told off by the family for making him feel stupid. If he thinks he’s strong enough to pull Jenna about that’s his problem, but I will beat him.

  I grip the rope tighter, feeling it bite into my hands, and bend my knees, pulling as hard as I can. The crowds are shouting their encouragement and we’re working as a team, giving a little and then pulling back together and I feel the other team slacking. My feet are slipping on the grass, but I won't let go. Ignoring the burn in my hands I dig my heels in and give one last pull, watching Kip lose his footing and fall to the floor, the rest of his team following suit.

  It’s an incredible feeling, watching him fall, but as the rest of my team celebrates winning, I’m rugby tackled to the floor and take a punch for not seeing it coming. I try to push Kip off me but he’s trying to pound the shit out of me. I manage to shove him in the chest and he falls back. By the time we’re back on our feet a crowd has circled us and a couple of boys are holding us back.

  “Stay away from Jenna!” Kip shouts. No hopes of anyone thinking the game just got out of hand now.

  “Can you hear yourself?” I shake the others off me, I wasn’t the one who started the fight, “If you’ve got self esteem issues you should deal with that. We’re friends. Get over it.”

  I turn and walk away, not listening to the whispers around me, but Kip practically runs past me and back to the stall. I’m only going over there because my mum’s standing next to Jenna, with that I’m-your-mum-and-I-want-to-kill-you look on her face, and has my wallet and keys. Jesus, this guy is pathetic; if he’s worried about Jenna and me, that is no way to deal with it. He’s losing his mind.

  “Jen, we need to have this out.” He says, grabbing her wrist as she’s trying to serve a kid.

  “We’re not doing anything here, Kip.” She pulls her hand away, lets the boy have the cake for free and walks away from the stall. We both take an instinctive step towards her but she turns on her heels, “Don't you follow me.”

  ‘Where are you?’ I text Jen when the fete starts to empty out, and I notice she hasn’t come back.

  She doesn’t reply, so Brad and I clear up her stall
and get everything put away. I take the few leftover cakes back with me to Mum’s, avoiding a run in with Kip, or Jenna if she’s trying to ignore me.

  “Are you staying for dinner, sweetheart?” Mum asks when we get back to hers and I sink into the sofa with a beer.

  “Yeah,” I answer, because if Jenna doesn’t reply I want to be close enough to go round and ask her what her problem is. I didn’t start the fight, didn’t even throw a punch, “I’ve got to be up early tomorrow though.”

  Mark rang me earlier; I’m needed at the hospital tomorrow. I was hoping to get some work started on the shop; I’ve got everything Jenna picked out on Thursday being delivered tomorrow, but the boys are having problems with the RSJ and I need to go over the suitability checks before we can get the external walls and footings in.

  “I’ll get dinner on early then,” Mum says, hanging up her jacket and going into the kitchen.

  I follow her in there without saying anything, and she hands me some potatoes and a peeler. She does something next to me with fish, and unasked questions hang in the air.

  “Mum?” I ask, scraping the peeler along the potato.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. For you. When Dad died.”

  She drops her knife; she obviously wasn’t expecting me to say that.

  “Deac, why would you apologise for that?” She keeps her back to me while she washes her hands and dries them, but I see she’s upset when she looks at me and takes the peeler away.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Come.” She beckons me to follow her and we step out into the back garden, heading straight to the bench I watched her and my dad sit on many nights, talking about their day, “What’s this all about?”

  “I was a jerk.” I confess, sitting down next to her, “I’m just sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “Don't ever apologise for that.” she takes my hand and sniffs. I know she’s crying again, but I can't look, “People deal with...death, in different ways.”