Page 28 of The Promise Of Rain

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot behind Buns and Biscuits and found a spot in the back corner with a perfect view of her apartment door.Wiping my palms down the thighs of my jeans, I stared up at it.

I’d faced car jackings, bombs, been held at gunpoint, and pulled women and children out of situations that still gave me nightmares, and not a one of them compared to the agony of sitting outside Jenny Davis’s apartment knowing she might reject me.

Certain if I were her, I would do the same.

But she wasn’t like me.

I stepped out onto the icy pavement.Aiming my key fob at my truck, I locked the doors and made my way up the stairs to Jenny’s door.

A fine layer of salt covered each step, but it wasn’t enough.The ice underneath was thick.

She could get hurt.

The last time I’d been inside, the apartment had belonged to Ansel.

When I met her at twenty-six, Jenny had her own place, but markers of the time she lived with Ansel littered his space.They stood out in stark contrast to the dark wood paneling on the walls and the ancient, mottled carpet.

There was a white pillar candle nestled into a bed of blush rose petals in a fishbowl that Jenny made when she was just eighteen that took pride of place on his coffee table.A half-finished needlepoint she left behind remained stretched over a frame in the corner.Framed photographs, most of them of Jenny, graced one wall, and a card she made him found a permanent home on his fridge.

What would the apartment look like now?

This was the second time I’d come to Jenny’s door.

Hopefully, she’d let me in this time.Even opening the door would be a step forward.

I knocked and waited; my bare hands tucked into my coat pockets.

I should have brought something.Flowers?Coffee?

That would have necessitated a trip into Peppergrove.And once I’d decided to see her, I didn’t have the patience to wait.

Fuck, I missed Valentine’s Day.Next year I’d give her a Valentine’s Day she’d never forget.

When I heard her footsteps approach the door, I purposefully lifted my head so she could see me through the peephole.

I held my breath when her footsteps stopped, exhaling in relief and victory when she opened the door a crack.

The sight of her in her cozy sweats, her long, black hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and her soft, blue eyes on mine, rendered me mute.

My heart thundered in my chest as I stared at her, stricken by her beauty now just as I was then.

Her eyes widened as they searched mine.“Deacon?Is everything okay?”

Voice gruff, I asked, “Can I come in?”

Her lips parted as she blinked at me.“In here?”she squeaked.

I held her gaze and tried for a hint of humour.“Don’t let the sunshine fool you.It’s not all that warm out here.”

Her jaw snapped shut.Eyebrows crunching together, voice sharp, she demanded, “What do you want, Deacon?”

I settled into my heels.“If you let me in, we can discuss it,” I answered softly.

She was bold and outspoken in ways she’d never been before.Back then, she bolted when faced with any kind of confrontation.

But she’d been through a lot since then.I couldn’t think about it without a burning rage coursing through my veins, a fury that threatened to take apart anyone set on harming her.

Only the enemy now was me.