Chapter Three

Jenna

My hand quivered as I went to grab my purse from the passenger seat and get out of the car. There before me was the house I spent almost as much time at in high school as I did my own. For so long it was a sanctuary for me, a place to go and feel at peace, feel happy and loved. And it wasn't just Deacon, it was his whole family. Was I really ready to walk back into that only to walk away again? Could I handle it?

Before I could fully push the door shut, I tugged it back open. This is such a bad idea. "This is a mistake," I said to myself. I nearly kicked my own ass with my wedges.

There was also a time when I was going to be part of this family. I couldn't torture myself with feeling like that could happen. Those kinds of delusions were dangerous and would do me no good. But this was about Deacon, not me. Why was I turning it into anything but that?

Because I'm a foolish woman.

Nope, I'm not doing it. I can't do it. I got back in the car and tossed my purse back on the passenger seat. "That's it, I better leave before someone sees me," I said in the empty space.

But I couldn't bring myself to actually start the car.

Dammit.

I pulled down the vanity mirror to check my makeup and there it was—suddenly the girl staring at back me was my teenage self. She was still in there, just dying to see her first love again. And that was how I got here. That pull that would forever be there, between us, like a magnet.

Just as much as that was there, though, so were all those feelings of insecurity, doubt and self-loathing for even coming here.

I pushed the mirror back up and tapped my foot against the brake pedal anxiously. I wiped my sweaty palms on my dark blue skinny jeans. Which only made me obsess over what I had chosen to wear, of course. I'd always been somewhat of a diva, drooling over the latest collections from my favorite designers, but when I leaned into my parents' world and saw more success in my career, I became even more bougie. I guessed I could be perceived as pretentious, and that was exactly what I didn't want Deacon to see when he looked at me.

Why was I still deliberating this? All I had to do was start the car and never look back. I was willing to take the risk that Mary would tell her son the truth. And if she did, at least I wouldn't be around to see the look on his face. He'd never come to see me, that was for sure, because once he knew everything, I highly doubted he'd want to hear from me, let alone come to see me.

Then I remembered the promise I made to myself if Deacon came home safe and sound. The memory nagged at me. If Deacon's brought home safe and sound, then I will go to see him. I will face the one person I haven't been able to face through this entire thing. And maybe if we have enough time together, I'll tell him the whole truth.

That was exactly what I swore to myself when Mary called to tell me about his accident. I had to do this. And I owed it to him after all this time. He deserved to know that we made a baby. But that wasn't the whole truth. He needed to know that I never stopped writing to him, and that when he sent me letters and thought they went unanswered, that wasn't necessarily the case. I just couldn't bring myself to send mine. They were sitting in a Jimmy Choo shoebox in my closet, where I thought they'd always remain.

Feeling a certain kind of resolve I hadn't felt in a long time, I decidedly got out of my car and closed the door this time. I sighed as I fixed my sunglasses on my face. This is it. No looking back now.

I didn't know what to expect when I saw him, but did it really matter? I was getting to see him again after all these years. For a second there, I wasn't sure I'd ever get this chance. I owed it to both of us to take it now.

My mind began to race with memories I'd tried to forget for so long. This time, though, I couldn't help but let them play out like movie reels, one of which was particularly interesting to me.

Deacon had one hand on mine on the baseball bat and the other around my waist. "You never know, right? You might actually like playing baseball."

"Deke, I don't think I can do this. Last time, the bat went flying with the ball."

He shook his head and looked at me with those icy-blue eyes. I never could say no to him. "All right, but you have to help me, okay?"

"I'm not going to let you go, okay, princess? I got you." That was what I loved most—how safe he made me feel.

I closed my eyes just as he instructed me to swing and hit the ball that came at us. I did as he said and hit it out of the park. "Oh my gosh!" I yelled. "I did it!" I opened my eyes, knowing I did it when I heard the ball slam into the bat. I dropped the bat, turned around, and leaped into his arms.

He couldn't stop laughing. "You're supposed to run the bases, but this works, too."

I laughed then, too. "Oh, I guess I missed that. But this is much better anyway." Still in his arms, my legs wrapped around him, I kissed him.

"It sure is," he said against my lips.

The voice of a child yelling, "Kick it back!" broke me from my reverie. I turned to see a little boy next door, standing next to a hoop in front of his garage door.

I must've looked confused to him because he pointed down to my feet. "My ball!" he yelled again. "Can you kick it back to me, please?"

I couldn't exactly kick a basketball in these shoes, so instead I bent down, grabbed it, and started to walk it back to him.

"Thanks!" he shouted, running across the yard to retrieve it. "My aim sucks, but my dad says I just have to practice."

"Definitely," I encouraged as he went back to playing with the ball, tossing it in the hoop repeatedly. There was no denying the kid was as cute as could be, which was funny to think because there was a time when I didn't even want kids.

And yet I can't stop thinking about the baby we lost.

What if we had a son? I could just see Deacon playing with him like that, practicing whatever sport he was interested in. I shook the thought away, though, knowing it would do me no good to let my mind go there and began my walk up to the Ryders' door.

Standing outside the front door, my finger sitting on the doorbell, my heart skipped a beat and my hands got sweaty again. I could practically hear my heart beating in my chest and tried to ignore it, but failed.

This was what it would've felt like.

This was what it would've been like to see him after his first tour.

We didn't need to break up. Why did we break up again?

I didn't need to lose our baby.

None of it needed to happen.

Everything was so messed up.

I pulled my phone out of my purse when I heard a notification come through. I would use any excuse right now to leave and wondered if I'd get so lucky. Although, it was only a missed call from Michael.

If there was ever a reason to throw caution to the wind and ring the damn doorbell it was now. Michael was a great reminder of all the stupid decisions I'd made since Deacon and I broke up.

Time was passing me by and I still couldn't bring myself to ring it. I was just about to take my finger off of it when, instead, I clicked it. I didn't know if it was a conscious decision, but I did it, nevertheless. It was too late to turn back now.

Or was it?

I considered leaving, even turned around, hoping to get back to my car and drive off before anyone answered, but was stopped from taking another step when I heard Deacon's deep, sexy voice. "Hello?"

I was frozen, stuck in place, unmoving, but ready to bolt. If only my feet didn't suddenly feel like they were filled with lead.

"Wait," he said.

Don't turn around. Just keep walking.

"You dropped something."

I could sense him approaching, coming closer. I was certain of it, my body just knew, even without turning around. It was as if my whole being was so completely tuned into him, I just knew. Yet, I couldn't turn around.

I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder and my body quivered at his touch.

Don't do it.

I took a deep, steadying breath and let my eyes zero in on his hand. So close, he was so close.

Don't turn around.

His warmth spread through me like wildfire, and it felt amazing, even in the boiling heat of this Florida day. Just one look, that was all I needed.

It's going to lead to nothing but heartache for you.

But there was no stopping me. Not anymore. I had to see him, touch him, talk to him. It was too late because next thing I knew I was turning around to see him clutching a tube of lipstick that must've fallen out of my purse when I checked my phone. I didn't care about the damn lipstick, though. I was completely taken by the look of complete surprise on his battered and bruised face.

Everything else paled in comparison to this moment—getting to see my Deacon after all this time.