Second Chance Hero

by Rebecca Sherwin

  I open my eyes and realise Jenna has managed to prop me up with some pillows behind my back. I don't know how she did that. And when I look to the foot of the bed, there's a post-it stuck to the metal frame, ‘I love you’ scrolled across the middle in Jenna’s handwriting. I sit up, peel the paper off the bed and tuck it into the drawer next to the bed. I swing my legs out, curling my toes on the rug and hear Jenna cluttering round in the kitchen. God, the woman makes so much noise when she cooks. And the mess; Jesus, the mess. She’s lucky she clears up after herself and I love her enough to not care.

  “What you making?” I ask, wrapping my arms around her waist and breathing her in, pretending I’m smelling whatever she’s got on the hob.

  “Tacos.” She looks up and I bend down for a kiss.

  “Hmm,” I nuzzle her neck, biting gently on the soft flesh, “you fancy some spice?”

  “I’d love a little spice.” She whispers, trying, and failing to sound indifferent.

  “You sure you want tacos?”

  I’m desperate to get her back upstairs. Or back on the counter. Or the table. Or my desk. Fuck, I’ve got it so bad.

  “You have to eat before you take your next lot of tablets.”

  “I don't need them,” I trail my lips across her bare shoulder.

  “Yes you do.” She turns swiftly and I’m hard, from the thought of her so close, “No arguments.”

  “The kids will be terrified of you.” I swat her behind as she turns back to the hob and continues cooking.

  I don't miss her body stiffen, before she recovers and continues stirring, “I hope not.”

  Jenna makes me eat the food, and once I’ve inhaled six tacos, I realise I was really hungry. The damn pills make me hungry all the time, and I already had a big appetite.

  “If I keep eating without working out, things will get ugly,”

  “Hmm.” She twists her lips and then licks them, “I could give you a workout.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I cock an eyebrow, already liking where this is heading.

  “Yeah.” She blinks slowly and bites her bottom lip, “But you’ll have to find me first.”

  She shoots out of her chair like a bullet and I hear her running up the stairs before I’m even to my feet. When I get to the bottom of the staircase, I notice she’s turned all the lights out upstairs.

  I wake up in the morning, smothered by Jenna. We managed to make it to bed once I’d found her on the balcony of the spare room and she sucked me off, as I felt her moans vibrating against me, and listened to the sounds of the crashing waves raging as my body built to release. And then I fucked her against the tiles in the bathroom. And then when we stumbled to the bedroom unable to keep our hands off each other, Jenna made love to me, as her tears of overwhelming love dripped onto my chest. We finally fell asleep with Jenna cradled in my arms.

  And that’s how I’ve woken up; with one of her legs thrown over me, her smooth skin caressing mine like silk. I’m looking forward to waking up like this for the rest of my life. I look over at the clock, noticing we’ve overslept, but I can't bear to wake her. I watch her sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks as her chest rises and falls, every brush of her naked skin on my ribs sending tingles through my body; her lips parted, her long dark hair fanning around the pillow, and her eyelashes casting shadows on her rosy cheeks.

  “How long are you going to watch me for?” She asks sleepily. Her morning voice is sexy as hell. It’s husky from sleep and worn from her screams last night.

  “Can't a man bask in his fiancé’s beauty first thing in the morning?”

  “Well when you put it like that,” she croaks, rolling to straddle me, “I think I might bask in yours.”

  Her hair falls across my neck as she kisses my chest, and as she works her way down my body, I couldn't care less that we’re running late.

  Watching Jenna get dressed is as much of a turn on as tearing her clothes off her and revealing her incredible body. I sit on the bed fresh from the shower, with my towel wrapped around my waist and watch as Jenna slides her underwear over her smooth legs, and they settle on her shapely hips. Then I catch a glimpse of her full breasts and pink nipples as she slips the matching bra up her arms and clasps it at the back. I’m done for when she shimmies into her little yellow summer dress and it glides up the curve of her back and her tight stomach.

  “I’ll zip you up,” I jump off the bed, not caring that my towel drops. I twist her damp hair around my hand and cast it over her shoulder, do the zip up slowly and kiss her softly behind her ear. Yellow is my favourite colour on Jenna; it makes her skin glow, brings out the soft brown of her eyes, and the honey coloured streaks in her hair.

  “Thanks Superman.” she calls as I walk off into the wardrobe and everything inside me tightens.

  We have to get out of here before we miss family day.

  Jenna

  I feel nervous sliding in behind the wheel of Deacon’s BMW. We attempted to go in my car, but city cars don't have much leg room, and when I noticed Deac’s wince as he squeezed himself into the passenger seat, I refused to drive the twenty-something miles to the club in my little red car.

  “We should get a cab.” I insisted, refusing to drive him anywhere if it hurts him.

  “Drive mine.” He said, rummaging around in his pocket and the urge to replace his hands with my own was so strong, I had to climb out, forgetting I was going to argue against driving the jeep. Deacon has single-handedly turned me into a machine. Nothing feels as good as when his body is pressed to mine, his sweat mixed with mine, his body moving at a pace that ignites a connection designed solely for us.

  “Hello?”

  “What?” I ask, snapping back to reality.

  “We’re going to be late.” He reaches over and skims his hand up the inside of my bare leg, “If you get that look on your face while we’re still on the drive, we won't be going anywhere.”

  I push my nerves aside. Deacon didn’t tell me to drive his jeep; he wanted me to drive the sleek white BMW – his pride and joy. Well, I think the pick-up trumped the sports car, but it was written off in the crash. The crash. This is Deacon’s first car ride since it happened. He got a cab home from the hospital with Emma, but the Deacon who stepped through the door that afternoon is not the Deacon sitting next to me now, tracing patterns on my thigh, After a few deep breaths, I put the key in the ignition.

  “Baby,” he rasps, his hand still driving me so wild I can feel my brain turning to mush, “you’re going to have to get accustomed to Isabel pretty quickly. We’re late.”

  “Isabel?” I ask, turning the engine on and snuggle into the seat as she thrums beneath me. Deacon takes his hand away and pulls his sunglasses over his eyes.

  “Yes. Her name is Isabel.” He folds his arms and pouts, but I see the smile fighting to come out.

  “Sounds sexy,” I throw my arm behind his seat, stroking the hair at the back of his head as I reverse out of the spot and switch gears.

  “Not as sexy as my fiancé.”

  My heart skips a beat or two every time he calls me that, and I almost stall the car as I pull off the drive.

  “So what happens if I get ‘the look’ once we’re off the driveway?” I ask, willing my eyes to stay on the road, but glancing every few seconds to where Deacon’s hands rest on his legs. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can feel him slipping away from me. I know he’s remembering the crash; he remembers so much more than he lets on. I don't condone it, and I’m normally pushing him to stop it. But if distracting Deacon with sex or sexual ideas puts some colour back in his face and brings him back to me, it’s worth it.

  “Then I’ll find somewhere private to fuck it off you.”

  Holy shit.

  I can't say anything else, and the rest of the journey is silent, although Deac’s cheeks turn their usual sun-kissed colour, and we might not be talking, but I know he’s thinking about how he’ll get the look off of my face.

  I’m quivering with nerves as
we walk through the foyer of the country club, and out into the garden where the family has pushed a few tables together to make room for everyone. Everyone’s here; even Phillipa and Steve, who usually has some sort of excuse to avoid these gatherings. I used to be on his side there; but I was trying to run away from everything I wanted. It feels different, walking next to Deacon as he uses his crutches to keep his mother’s wrath at bay. I see her inspecting him, making sure he’s walking the way the doctor told him, and checking to see any other weaknesses. I think she’d flip her nut if she knew all the ways I let Deacon use his supposedly weak body on me last night. I feel my cheeks heat, remembering the most incredible sexual experience of my life, partnered with the best emotional night of my life. It was, hands down, the best night of my life.

  “You’ve got the look.” Deacon growls and I chuckle, knowing he won't do anything here. He wouldn’t, would he?

  He smirks, as if hearing my silent question, and I know for a fact he would.

  Everyone stands to greet us, and it feels so good to hug my family, in a much better frame of mind than the last time they hugged me. I was praying for Deacon’s life and the hugs were something to make me feel even worse. I didn’t deserve their comfort.

  “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.

  Epilogue

  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.”