Chapter Fifteen

Jenna

Why was it so impossibly hard to open a jar of pickles? I mean, seriously, these companies obviously didn't want you to get in. I banged the sides of the lid on the counter and swore to myself. I wanted a sandwich with pickles, was that so hard to get?

Still nothing.

I took all the anger I'd been holding in out on the damn jar, slamming it down on the counter. Once. Twice. Three times. Finally I gave up and dropped my head in my hands. "What is wrong with me?" I yelled to myself, since no one else was around. Someone could've been around—Deacon—but instead I screwed everything up. Typical me, I thought, keep secrets and have them bite me squarely on the butt.

From the minute he got back, I should have told him the truth. Consequences be damned, I should have been upfront with him, laid all my cards on the table. Or better yet, not let him in again. Now it was too late.

Dammit. I should have known that my secret was bound to come out at some point. Secrets always had a way of coming out.

It had been one week since Deacon walked out on me at my mother's DAR event. It probably sounded ridiculous, but I missed him. I always missed him, he was like part of me, always had been. It felt like we had only truly been happy for such a short period before it was all ripped away, just like I feared it would be. That was the trouble with secrets. But at the time, I told myself I was keeping it for him, to protect him from the pain that would no doubt come. Part of me was also so afraid he'd never forgive me, never let it go that I didn't tell him when it first happened. Even if I told him a few months later that would have been better, but now the situation worsened. All because so much time passed, because I couldn't do the sensible thing back then and say something to him. Sent a letter, done any damn thing.

I felt like an empty well with no more tears left to cry. The Ben & Jerry's I had in my freezer was practically empty from all my tear-filled nights eating takeout and wallowing in my self-pity.

I wanted to scream, but instead I groaned. This was exactly why I didn't want to get close to him again.

Never mind what this was doing to me, though. Deacon was probably furious, sad, wanting answers. I wanted to give him those answers now, I really did, but he wouldn't hear me out that night. There was no chance he'd hear me out now. I had to respect him when he said he needed space. I only hoped like hell he would've called or come over so we could talk things out, but no such luck. Of course not, Jenna, because you screwed everything up. Like always.

I prided myself on being a strong, independent, put-together woman, or at least I liked to think I was, but I didn't feel any of those things right now. I was wrecked, positively wrecked. I wanted Deacon, but if I couldn't have him, I only hoped this pain would go away one day.

The problem was, how was I supposed to move on from him?

If after all these years, I still hadn't gotten Deacon Ryder out of my system, I had little hope it'd ever happen. The man was my drug and his absence again felt like someone was ripping my heart out and tearing it to pieces. All. Over. Again.

Maybe I was a masochist for wanting him, knowing full well I really could never have him. I must have been because I drove by his parents' house so many times on my way to or from work it wasn't even funny. It was a bit out of my way, but I couldn't help myself. Multiple times his motorcycle was in the driveway, so I knew he was home. However, I couldn't bring myself to actually get out of the car, so I just kept driving like a creepy, obsessive stalker. Damn him for doing this to me. Damn me for doing this to myself.

I combed my hands through my hair and blew outwardly. I didn't know if it'd help, but I decided I needed a bath to try and relax, listen to some music, and just forget about my heartache for a bit. I needed a distraction from all of this.

Was that so hard to ask for?

The obnoxious sound of the phone ringing made me turn back around, retreating from the bathroom to my bed where I left the damn thing.

Apparently, it was too hard to ask for.

I swiped it off the bed and answered it, not even bothering to check the caller ID. "What?" I answered, clearly not in the mood to talk to another person right now. Truth was, it wasn't going to be the one person I wanted it to be, so why the hell should I care about any stupid phone call?

"Is that how you answer your phone?" The distinct sound of my father's voice had me standing up straight.

As though he could see me, I looked down and adjusted my blouse. "Dad, sorry, you caught me in the middle of something."

"You thought I was your mother, didn't you?" he asked and I wasn't sure if he was feeling me out for her or trying to keep things light between us since we still had to work together. I hoped the latter.

"No," I said honestly. Although, if it was, I certainly wouldn't be speaking to her right now. "I just didn't expect to be hearing from you. Is something wrong at the office?"

He grumbled, "No." He sighed before continuing. "But I did take care of that minor situation we discussed before. The employee complaint you got," he explained, jogging my memory.

Although, I already knew exactly what situation he was talking about. I simply wasn't going to make it easy on him since he all but told me it was none of my business once it was in his hands. "Glad to hear it, thanks for letting me know."

"One more thing," my father told me. I listened as he brought up one of our oldest and dearest firm clients. It was a skincare company, one that I was very interested in since I personally used their products. I had met with the owner, Flora, a few times, but mostly Dad handled their business personally. It was one of the few clients he left in his portfolio as CEO and Managing Partner of the firm. He explained a recent business dealing he was engaging in for the company and then finally said, "Negotiations will be in-person in our Tampa office and Flora wants you there. It's about time you took this client over. I have enough going on and you're invested in what happens to them, so I think it's best and so does Flora."

Way to bury the lead.

"Me?" I asked.

"You are a customer. You're an excellent lawyer," he said, paying me the first real compliment I'd ever heard from him. Wow. "You know her company inside and out. She'll only accept you."

I sucked in a deep breath. So much had just happened, so much just said, I didn't know where to begin. "Thank you," I decided to start with. "Of course, I accept. When do I need to leave?"

I listened as he gave me all the details, the entire time thinking maybe it was kismet, me getting away from Miami right now. I had been to Tampa before and it was a beautiful city. Plus, my father was going to put me up in a nice hotel, I was sure. It wouldn't even feel like work, more like a mini-vacation, which I could really use. Best of all, I'd be leaving memories of Deacon behind. I hoped.