Page 160 of The Promise Of Rain

Tears welled in my eyes, and I admitted, “I’m sad.”

His dark eyes regarded me with sorrow.“Jenny—"

“Don’t,” I pressed my hand to his chest.“I don’t want you here out of pity.”

“It’s not pity,” he stated, his voice rough.“I can’t even say it’s for you.Baxter told me what happened, and my fucking heart started beating out of my chest.I thought I was going to have a heart attack trying to get to you.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I murmured.

I wish you were here.

Seemed wishes did come true.

“I’ll always be here,” he promised.

The timer on the stove dinged.

Disengaging from Deacon’s arms, I ran to the kitchen and opened the oven door to remove the last of the loaves.

The smell hit me, bringing with it a barrage of comfort.

Hot from the oven, I set them on a cooling rack on the kitchen table.I grabbed a stack of small plates and a pot of strawberry jam with a spoon.

The ultimate comfort food.

Maggie made it to the table first, ripping a small piece off the side of the loaf, passing it back and forth from one hand to the other so it wouldn’t burn her fingers.

I passed her a plate and pushed the pot of strawberry jam across the table.

Maxine settled in beside her, ripping off a piece for herself.

The familiarity of our routine brought me comfort.

Before long, we all stood around the table, slathering chunks of sourdough bread with strawberry jam.

This is what Ansel made for me.

“I loved him,” I choked out.

Deacon spun me around and tucked me into his chest.

The girls moved in next, surrounding me with their soft hands and their soft voices, pressing close.

Miller came next, closely followed by Eric and Baxter.

“Here we fucking go again,” John griped, but he wrapped his big arms around all of us as far as he could reach.

Deacon’s big chest expanded and fell, and he growled, “Only for you, Jenny.Only for you.”

32

I Wish You Were Here

Jenny

For the next two days, I baked almost constantly.

Deacon manned the front of the store, leaving me to the peace and solitude of my kitchen, dulling the sharp edges of my grief in the place I first found love and acceptance.