Chapter Seventeen

Jenna

Jenna, there is no one I trust more. I would like you to consider being our in-house counsel. We'll keep the firm on for bigger matters, of course, but we need someone on-staff. Dedicated. I want that to be you." Those words from Flora had been playing on loop in my mind since she'd said them.

In truth, since returning home, I hadn't thought of much else but her job offer. It was flattering and it came with a heck of a lot of zeroes behind it, but I wasn't sure if that was enough.

Sure, it'd be a great opportunity for me, for my career. And it would be a way for me to get out of Miami and make a new life for myself. I could start fresh.

But leaving my father? His firm? I wasn't sure I could do that to him. It'd be the final nail in the coffin with my family. Was I ready for that?

And what about Deke? I shook my head. No, he couldn't factor into this decision. Not anymore.

Too bad he'd been factored into so many already, even without me intentionally doing it.

She told me to take my time and think about it before making a decision, but I had been back for three days now and the more I thought about it the more excited I got. Any lawyer in my shoes would jump at the opportunity. I wasn't going to be a fool and turn her down. It was very obvious even to me that my decision had been made already.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and dialed her number as I plopped on the couch. "Jenna," she answered.

I smiled. "Flora, hi."

"Have you given my offer any thought?"

"Yes, in fact, I have," I said already beaming. It was going to be hard for me to leave Miami behind. This city held a lot of memories for me. I was born and raised here and hadn't been many places. Miami was my home. But I was elated for this new adventure.

"And?" she prompted.

"I'd love to be your in-house counsel."

"You're taking the job?" I could almost hear her smiling. "Fantastic! Did you tell your father?"

"No, but if you don't mind, I'd like to do that myself, so please don't say anything yet. And I'm sure I'll need to give proper notice to him and my clients, so," I said, letting my words fall off.

"Think nothing of it. You're coming. That's all that matters." I heard the popping of a cork followed by the sound of a glass. "Well, I'm officially celebrating, if you can't tell," she said, gushing.

I laughed. "I am really happy about this and so thankful to you. Thank you again, Flora," I said.

I heard her swallow. "Please. You're doing me a favor, Jenna. You are one of the best damn attorneys we have worked with and your passion for my brand is something else entirely."

"Thank you." I crossed my legs. "I'm really glad you trust me. I promise I won't let you down."

She replied, "I know you won't." Then I heard footsteps and laughter. "All right, well, I have to go, but you should have a drink to celebrate, too. This really will be amazing!"

When we hung up, I stared at the phone for a moment before jumping off the couch and squealing. "Ah!" I screamed, barely believing I had just done that.

I opened a cabinet and pulled out a glass. Flora was right, this called for a little celebration. I went to the fridge, but my eyes came across the few beers I had stored in there for Deacon.

What had I done, I suddenly wondered. And my dad, how would he take it? I shook my head. "No, I can't go there." I pulled my hair up in a high ponytail and placed an elastic band I had on my wrist in my hair to hold it.

I knew I had to call my dad and update him, but that could wait. I didn't want anyone raining on my parade right now. I felt good and that was because for the first time in my life I wasn't overthinking things. I was flying by the seat of my pants and it was exhilarating and frightening, but mostly exciting. I wished I had done this sooner—moved out of Miami. Then maybe I could have saved myself the heartbreak I felt once more with Deacon.

Deacon. I had been pushing thoughts of him aside for too long now. Even when I got his voicemail, I couldn't bring myself to return it, just listen to it a few dozen times. "We need to talk," he said. But I needed to protect myself, I couldn't keep putting myself through this. Perhaps he wanted closure, but I didn't.

"I'm moving on. This is going to be good for me," I said to myself.

Forget drinking. What I needed was to start cleaning up, organizing, packing. That was the first real step anyway.

Wasn't it? If so, why couldn't I stop thinking about Deacon all of a sudden?

Who was I kidding, it hardly was sudden.

Every second I wasn't with him was like torture. But, in time, I knew that feeling would pass. It had to.

If I listened to my heart, all it really wanted was him. Imagining a life without him was literally tearing me up inside. But the future for us had always been hazy at best. Which was why I needed to listen to the million reasons we couldn't be together and move forward, never looking back at what could have been.

I started pulling things out from the bottom of my closet, one at a time, knowing there was no way I would be able to keep everything I had accumulated since moving in.

I tossed a few smaller items on my bed and paused. When my fingers touched the bed I let them linger there, closing my eyes. I placed a hand on my lips, remembering the kisses Deacon gave me the night we made love. They were swollen and raw by the end, but I had never been so satisfied, felt so desired and loved, then I did with him. He catered to my every whim, always had.

He moved my hands behind me and pinned them with his own against the headboard. His tall, lean, muscular body was hovering over me. I saw nothing but love and desire in his eyes as he pushed into me and I closed my eyes, taking him fully. "You tell me what you need," he rasped.

I opened my eyes back to the present and blinked away the tears that were clouding my vision. I sucked in and patted at my cheeks. "That was a fantasy," I reminded myself. "That was all that was."

I pulled the rest of the stuff out from under my clothes, this time refusing to feel any regret and deciding to stop letting my mind go back to that place. There was no use in going back there because nothing was changing. We were over, done for good this time. And if I never loved another man again like I loved him, then so be it. I could still be happy. Who needed a man for a happily ever after anyway? That was for fairytale princesses, and while I may have a tattoo of a tiara, those fairytales were nothing more than stories that filled a little girl's head with unrealistic hopes and dreams. Being happy in that way was only an illusion.

And I knew well enough that nothing good came from yearning for something I would never have.

My desire to be with Deacon did nothing but destroy the both of us.

I bent down to pull out all of my shoeboxes next and then slid out the step stool I had folded in the corner of the closet to reach the top where I had more shoeboxes stored. Note to self, I thought, I didn't need more shoes any time soon.

I stepped on the stool and reached with my arm for the last shoebox all the way in the corner. "Dammit," I cursed to myself. I struggled to reach it until finally my hand swung forward, and in an attempt to grab it, I pushed it off the shelf. Tumbling to the floor, everything inside came spilling out. "Shit!"

I stepped down, pushing the stool aside. Out of all the shoeboxes that could have fallen, why did it have to be this one? I crumbled to the floor on my knees as I picked up the contents. Dozens upon dozens of pink pieces of paper, all folded and signed by me. Letters I had written to Deacon even after we broke up. I sobbed and laughed all at once. I never could let him go.

This box had all of our memories, memories I never had it in me to dispose of. I hid it because I didn't want it to serve as a reminder. The last time I was in here was when I put the ring he gave me back. I wore it on a chain around my neck after he left for a while, but then couldn't stand the reminder it was, so I tucked it away in here and never looked back.

As I put all the letters together and reorganized them, I began crying. I sniffled as the tears began to stream down my face. I wiped them away with the back of my hand and went back to putting everything back in the box.

Before I closed the box, I took out the ring and looked at it, clutching it to my chest. "How did I screw things up so bad?" I cried.

I can't do it.

I can't leave Miami.

I can't leave Deacon.

Oh no, what had I done? I had to call Flora back. Later.

I put the ring inside the box and closed it before picking it up and carrying it with me. I rushed downstairs, made sure I had my phone, purse, and sunglasses, and left like the place was on fire and I needed to get in the car and drive off to survive.

Really, it wasn't that much of a stretch. I did need to drive off to see Deacon in order to survive.

I needed Deacon to survive.

He wanted to talk. I blew him off. If he would still be willing to talk, then I had a lot I needed to say.

Starting with the fact that he was like a drug to me and even if it meant I'd be an addict for the rest of my life, I needed to have him. I couldn't live without him.

I wouldn't.