Page 31 of The Promise Of Rain

A lady looks after her man.

Except, he wasn’t my man.

I raised a shaky hand to my forehead, unsure how to get out of my current predicament.

Deacon pushed the sleeves of his Henley up to his elbows.The muscles and tendons flexing beneath his olive-toned skin stroked my memories.

Those arms had once held me like I meant something.

Years apart had dulled the edges of my memory but having him here brought everything back into sharp resolution.

I lifted my chin to take him in.

His black hair, large frame, and hard, unrelenting gaze framed by my blush pink and cream painted walls looked wrong.

And felt worse.

Remembering hurt.

Him being in my safe place brought the hurt roaring to life.

Here, I could be soft.Here, I didn’t need to fight for or defend myself.I didn’t have to fight for my voice to be heard.

And still the words trembled off my tongue.“Do you know what it was like for me when you wouldn’t answer my calls?”

I had sat by the phone for hours, staring at the blank display and willing him to call me back.At first, I thought he didn’t get the message.Then, I drowned in disbelief even as some part of me always knew it would end with him leaving.Finally, I accepted he was gone.

Learning he had enlisted ended all hope.

And now, Deacon Raine, the man who haunted my dreams, stood larger than life in front of me, his handsome face stoic while his narrowed eyes searched mine.“Why didn’t you ask someone to talk to me?”

I threw my hands out to my sides.“Who?Baxter wouldn’t talk to me, Maggie was gone, and Miller and the rest of them weren’t sure what to believe.Was I supposed to send my mother?”I laughed and the bitterness of it shamed me.

This was not who I wanted to be.

Nor did I want to spend my life convincing others of my worth.

“What about Ansel?”he challenged.

“I wasn’t functioning, Deacon!”I cried.“Who do you think was looking after me?And by the time Ansel offered to go talk to you, you’d already left!”

He stared back at me, the muscle in his jaw the only sign he was feeling anything at all.He still wouldn’t talk about it.

And I no longer wanted to.

If I let him in, how long would it take before the never-ending whispers in town got to him?

Before his father interfered?

Before the truth came out?

The idea left me light-headed.

I shook my head sharply to clear it.“I can’t do this.You need to leave.”

He held his ground, his dark eyes hard.“I can’t not do this.”

Everything about him was hard.His body, his face, his eyes, even his voice was authoritative and forceful.