Sara hadn’t ever had an easy relationship with her father. He was ultraconservative and religious in a way that she’d never understood. When her mother had been alive, she acted like a buffer, stopping the majority of the fighting between them.
Sighing, she remembered the look on her mother’s face when she would fight for her daughter’s freedom. Sara was more sheltered than most kids. Even when she rebelled, it was to go to the mall or because she wanted to wear eyeliner. She remembered one time she wanted to go to the movies. She could still see them fighting, clear as day.
“But, Randall, she’s fifteen. She’s a good girl. She has to experience some life though. She just wants to see a movie with her friends. Dee Dee’s mother is picking them up and dropping them off. It will be fine.”
Her father had always been convinced that Sara would be exposed to the wicked world and would end up knocked up, on drugs, on welfare, or any other number of scenarios that would reflect badly on his standing in the church.
When her mother died her junior year of high school, things had only gotten worse. She had always been the one to keep him in check. Without her, Sara’s life became a prison. She hadn’t been allowed to go out, or have a job. There were no dates, no dances, no parties.
She was startled out of her reverie when Deacon laid a hand on her shoulder and asked, “Ready?”
Shaking her head, Sara said, “Not really. But it’s probably time.” He slid his arms around her and gave her a brief hug and said, “We should probably get going.”
They made it to LAX and through airport security with enough time to grab a coffee before they got to the gate. Sara drank hers, and nibbled on a cookie, while Deacon ate a sandwich.
Chapter 18
Thankfully, Sara slept for most of the flight. She looked like she was ready to break into pieces more than a few times. He was really glad he came with her.
He didn’t entirely trust her to take care of herself. Even at her best, she often didn’t remember to eat. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen with her being this upset, if she’d been left to her own devices.
By the time they landed, it was four in the morning. The airport was pretty small, and almost totally empty. Sara followed him out to the car rental bus like a zombie, still half-asleep. By the time they got their car and found their hotel, the sun was starting to rise.
They were both exhausted. Collapsing fully dressed onto the queen-sized bed the moment they walked into the hotel room, they slept.
Around 11:00 a.m., Deacon woke up. Sara was sitting on the bed beside him, hair damp from a shower presumably, typing into her phone.
Stretching, Deacon said, “Morning. What time is it?”
“11:08 a.m.”
Deacon sat up and said, “Let me go grab a shower. We can go get started on whatever we need to do. How long did you sleep?”
“I woke up at 10:00 a.m. Called the mortuary where they handled my mom’s cremation. They’re going to pick him up in a little bit.”
Sighing, Sara said, “I don’t even know if that’s what he would have wanted. We never talked about it when I was younger. By the time I left, things were so bad we barely spoke at all. I was kind of surprised he would even list me as next of kin. I’m about to call the hospice place and see about coming in to get my dad’s things. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the house. I’m pretty sure he still had it. Maybe the keys will be in his things.”
“Be out in a few. I’m gonna go shower now,” Deacon kissed the top of her head and then moved off the bed, grabbing his toiletry bag out of the suitcase.
By the time Deacon was done showering, Sara had brushed her hair and put it up. She was putting on powder in front of the mirror now. He moved to his suitcase, grabbing a pair of jeans, some boxers, and a T-shirt.
Running his fingers through his hair, he said, “All right. I’m ready. What’s the plan? Did you eat anything?”
Shaking her head, Sara said, “Not really very hungry.”
Pinning her down with a stare, he said, “It doesn’t matter. You need to eat something. The last food you had was a cookie. Maybe you could eat something with vitamins this time.”
Sara said, “Aren’t you bossy this morning?”
Laughing, he said, “I wouldn’t have to be if you’d eat.”
Stopping in the drive thru of Donut Hut, they each got an iced coffee and a bagel.
Once Deacon had pulled back onto the highway, Sara answered his unasked question, and said, “Hospice. I’ll put the address in GPS.”
Sara picked at her bagel and sipped her coffee, while Deacon drove them to Greenwood. It was a quick drive, only about fifteen minutes. Getting out of the car, Sara quickly tossed the coffee and uneaten bagel. Her hands were shaking. He was pretty sure she was about to have a panic attack.
Deacon grabbed her hand and tugged her back to him and said, “Come here, honey. You have to breathe. You look like you’re going to pass out.”
Sara looked like she was ready to bolt so he placed his hands on her shoulders and said, “Close your eyes for a minute. Take a deep breath. Please?”
After a moment she nodded, then closed her eyes. She took one shuddering breath, then another. She continued to stand there on the sidewalk, eyes closed, just breathing with Deacon until he moved his hands.
Brushing his hand over her cheek, he smiled and said, “Better. Thank you.”
Together, they walked into the building. Sara went to the front desk. After introducing herself, the receptionist told her to have a seat, then dialed. A few moments later, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes came out of a side door in the lobby and walked up to Sara.
She introduced herself to both of them, shaking their hands. After expressing her condolences, she motioned for Sara to come back to her office. Seeing Sara’s wide, frightened eyes, Deacon wrapped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze.
Gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk, the woman advised, “Ms. Westing. The folks from Walton are on the way to collect your father for cremation. Would you like to say your final good-byes?”
Shaking her head vigorously, she said, “No. Not at all. I’d really like to collect his things and then find out what the next steps are.”
Smiling kindly, she said, “Here, there isn’t really anything left to take care of. You’ll handle the next steps through the funeral home. They can assist you with paperwork such as death certificates. Typically those take a few weeks to generate through the state. I’ll go get his personal effects. I’ll only be a moment.”
When she left her office, Sara looked at Deacon a little helplessly, her eyes watering. Picking up her hand, he squeezed it and said, “We’re almost done here, baby. This is almost over.”
Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths and then squeezed his hand.
When Ms. Wallace, the caseworker, came back into her office, she had a small plastic bag. There was a set of keys, a wallet, a watch, and a book. Handing the bag to Sara, she said, “Here you are, Ms. Westing. Also, here’s my card. If you have any further questions, please feel free to contact me.”
Numbly, Sara took the card and the bag, then stood up. After shaking her hand again, they walked out of the office, and into the lobby. Once they made it out the front doors, Sara broke down again.
Pulling her into his arms, he held her and let her cry. When she finally straightened, her eyes were puffy, but her face looked more resolute now. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she sniffled.
Deacon reached into his pocket, glad he had thought to bring some tissues along. Opening the travel pack, he handed it to her. Watching her wipe her face, then blow her nose, he waited. When she had discarded the tissues, he led her back to the car.
They sat there a few moments, not saying anything, just sitting there. Deacon finally asked, “Where to now?”
Reaching into the bag, she pulled out a set of keys. After plugging the address into the GPS, she said, “The house, I guess.”
Within twenty minutes, they arrived at the house. It looked surprisingly well manicured, despite his illness. He must have been paying for upkeep.
When they exited the car, Sara looked almost ill. Her hands were shaking again, so he took the keys from her and put them in his pocket. Pulling her to him, he stroked a hand down her back until she finally pulled away and said, “Okay. Let’s do this, I guess.”
Reaching her hand into his pocket, she fished the keys out and walked toward the front door. Unlocking the deadbolt, she moved to the bottom lock. Turning the knob, she slowly pushed open the door.
Save for a few boxes that sat in the middle of the front room that had her name written on them, the entire house looked to be empty. They walked through the remaining rooms, spying a few more boxes, but the house was almost entirely empty.
Her voice a little choked, she said, “I can’t imagine having to pack up my own house, knowing I was going to die.”
Shrugging, Deacon said, “Maybe he wanted to make it as easy as possible on you?”
Wiping a few stray tears, she said, “There was nothing easy about the man. My mother got sick when I was fifteen. I was acting out and he caught me sneaking out a few times. Nothing serious. Just teenage shit. When she died, he basically told me that my behavior, my sins, whatever the hell they were, were the reason she died.
“Even then, I knew it wasn’t the truth, but that’s a tough thing to lay on a kid. Especially then. I was feeling so freaking guilty that until I left for college, my house was like a prison.
“I’d love to think he was thinking about what would make my life easier, but I find it hard to believe. He went off the deep end. Whatever shitty relationship we had had up until that point was basically obliterated. He blamed me when her cancer came back and that was the end of us. I didn’t come back once after I left for school.”
Angrily wiping tears away now, she said, “I’m fucking angry, more than anything. Even in grief, what kind of a monster says that to someone?”
“I’d guess he had some mental issues that weren’t diagnosed, honey. But I don’t know. It’s not the kind of thing that a rational person would say.”
Looking utterly exhausted, Sara asked, “Will you help me load this stuff into the trunk? I’m just going to ship it home. I can’t stay here.”
Nodding, not sure what to say to any of what she had just revealed, Deacon finally asked, “Sure thing. Where do you want to start?”
“Any place is fine.”
Systematically, they removed the boxes from the house until the trunk was full. Wordlessly they drove to a FedEx Kinkos and ground shipped it all back to her house.
Sara was almost eerily calm now.
Deacon wasn’t sure what was going on in her mind, but he guessed it wasn’t good. Driving them back toward the hotel for lack of a better destination, he said, “Did you have anything else you needed to take care of?”
Shaking her head, she finally said, “I’m exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for days. Let’s just go back to the hotel.”
Deacon asked, “Could we stop and get something to eat first? I’m starved.”
“Me too, actually. Let’s stop at Public Market and get subs. It’s one of the things I really miss back home.”
Blinking in surprise, Deacon said, “Sure. Sounds great. I haven’t had one in years.”
Chapter 19
Forty-five minutes later, armed with subs and lemonade, they made their way back to the hotel room. After they ate, Sara booked their tickets home. They were leaving at noon tomorrow.
With the house all packed up, there wasn’t much reason for her to stay. Wanting nothing more than to close this shitty, shitty chapter in her life, she was looking forward to leaving.
Turning on the television, Deacon had settled back against the headboard of the bed, and was idly flipping channels. He seemed to sense she wasn’t feeling all that chatty. He had been really great about this whole thing, actually.
Moving from the chair, she walked over to the bed and snuggled up against him and said, “I love you. You’ve been totally amazing. Thank you.”
Reaching up, she brushed her lips across his, enjoying the curve of his lips as he smiled.
“I love you too, Sara.”
Snuggling into his side, they both ended up dozing off.
Around 8:00 p.m., Deacon’s phone rang, waking them up. Chris was calling to discuss work stuff. Deacon told him they’d be back in town tomorrow. He’d come in the following day and deal with it.
Getting up, Deacon brushed his teeth and said, “I’m pretty awake now. Did you still want to sleep?”
Shaking her head, Sara said, “Wide awake now. A five-hour nap was a terrible idea.”
“So what’s there to do here? The town didn’t look like much.”
Laughing, Sara said, “It’s not. There’s the movies, the beach, shopping…uh…food but I’m not really hungry right now. Um…”
After she had trailed off, Deacon said, “All that, huh?”
Sara nodded and said, “Let’s go walk on the beach. There’s not much in the way of medical waste. Surely that’s a selling point.”
After a minute, he said, “I don’t know if I’m gonna like it as much without the medical waste, but okay.”
Snorting, Sara moved to the other room to brush her teeth and hair.
Grabbing her purse, and sliding on a pair of flip-flops, she waited for Deacon to put on his tennis shoes. Eyeing them, she said, “You’re gonna regret wearing those.”
“Well, I didn’t think we’d be going to the beach, so…”
Leaving the hotel, they made the quick drive to Fort Myers Beach. It was a little more crowded than Sara remembered it, but mostly the same.
They parked in the pay lot by the bridge and walked down to the shore line. Deacon had pulled his shoes and socks off already and carried them. The second he’d set foot in the sand, his feet sank down and sand had poured into his shoes.
Holding his other hand in hers, they walked for a while down the beach, letting the water lap over their feet. They didn’t speak for a long time. Sara finally said, “I know I said it earlier, but thank you for coming with me. I don’t know if I could have done this without you.”
Tugging her hand, he pulled her close to him and wrapped his arm around her.
“You’re welcome. I couldn’t let you come here alone. Not to do this. Nobody should ever have to do this alone.”
Stopping, Sara moved around, standing in front of him, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
When he lifted his head again, she said, “I am so freaking lucky.”
Deacon smiled but didn’t say anything.
Giving him a pointed stare, she said, “Just say ‘Thank you, Sara.’”
Smirking at her now, he said, “Thank you, Sara.”
They continued to walk for another thirty minutes, before the breeze got a little chilly. They decided to head back to the hotel.
When they got back to the hotel, Sara took a quick shower to wash off the sand, then changed into a tank top and boxer shorts while Deacon rinsed off. She was lying in bed reading a book when Deacon emerged. He grabbed a pair of gym shorts and slid into bed next to her.
Putting her book down, she rested her head on Deacon’s shoulder. He switched the lamp off, then tucked her close, and stroked his hand down her spine.
They lay there in the dark for a long time, both of them awake, but neither of them saying anything.
After a while, Sara said, “It kind of felt like I lost them both when Mom died. She left, and he just went crazy. I just don’t know how to reconcile the man I remember with the man who would pack up his house so I didn’t have to.”
“I dunno, baby. I didn’t know the man at all, but maybe he regretted the way things went down with you guys. I’d like to hope that maybe he understood how wrong he was about things.”
On a shuddering sigh, Sara said, “Maybe. I hope. I don’t know when I’m going to be
able to go through those boxes. I don’t think I’m going to be ready any time soon.”
Deacon squeezed her again and said, “Well, you can just put them in your spare room and deal with them when you’re ready. None of that stuff is going anywhere.”
Sara kissed the spot above his heart on his chest and snuggled in.
“Sorry I was such a mess before.”
She felt him tense and then shift under her, then he said, “Don’t worry about it. You’re entitled. This is a shitty situation, and it would have been strange if you hadn’t been a mess.”
“You’re the best.”
Reaching up, she pressed her lips to his, nipping at his bottom lip with her teeth. On a groan, Deacon leaned forward, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. They lay together, tongues mating, lips locked for a few moments.
When Sara pulled back, she was breathing a little heavily. Pure lust in her eyes, she slowly dragged her hand down his chest.
Reaching up, taking her chin in his hand, he asked, “You’re sure? I don’t want to push if…”
In answer, she stroked it down his stomach to run her hand along his burgeoning erection.
Groaning, he cupped her face in his hands. Rolling over, he tucked her under him and brought his mouth back to hers. Running his hands along the lines of her body, he slowly stroked her over her clothes until, impatient to have him touch her bare skin, she broke the kiss and moved back to shimmy out of her tank top.
Sliding his hands over the newly bared skin, he brought his hands to her breasts, rubbing his thumbs gently over nipples until they began to tighten. Sara began to moan lightly and roll her hips. Moving down, he took one tight peak in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue while he continued to tease the other with his hand.
Sara reached down and pulled his mouth back up to her own and said, “I really need you inside me. Now, please.”
Deacon, not one to argue, pulled off the gym shorts that he wore while she got rid of her boxers and panties. Once he had settled between her thighs, she wrapped her legs around his hips. Reaching down, he adjusted himself at her opening, and slid home.
Just a Taste [Private Relations 1] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 16