Chapter Seven

Jenna

The roaring sound of the engine and physical vibration I felt from the seat was making me feel things I hadn't felt in a while. It was bringing me back to a time and place I felt carefree, like I didn't have the weight of the world on my shoulders, which was quite literally the opposite of the way I felt most days as of late.

Here, though, straddling the motorcycle seat, my arms wrapped securely around Deacon's torso, I felt lighter somehow.

All my worries gone.

Stress from my job gone.

Familial obligations, secrets that were like a raging war inside of me, all gone.

We were heading down Collins Avenue, the traffic was light, it being a workday and all, and Deacon picked up speed. I felt the wind against my face, the rumble of the air on my chest. The wind was loud so it drowned out a lot of noise, but my senses were peeked because of it. Smells became stronger, the colorful city even more vibrant. There was nothing that could compare to the feeling of being on the back of a motorcycle.

Never in a million years did I think I could feel this way, but from the very first time, once the fear wore off, I felt exhilarated by the ride. People weren't kidding when they said you never felt more alive than when you were riding a motorcycle.

My heart rate quickened as he turned on to a side road and I clutched Deacon tighter. As we passed the old Avalon Hotel, I smiled to myself, remembering how many times we passed the landmark on our way to the beach. I never stayed there, but it was like a beacon for me, a symbol of home. It had an art deco style, definitely tropical, drawing me and so many others to it. There was one time, though, that Deke and I had a date at the hotel's restaurant on our way from the beach where we watched the sunset. Live music played, we held hands and talked and kissed for hours—it was one of the most romantic dates we had as teenagers. I wondered if he remembered it, or even as fondly as I did.

The feelings from that night, all our nights together came rushing back to me and I felt giddy with anticipation, so hopeful, even if for only a second, before reality came crashing back to me. I kept my arms around him, but threw my head back and let out a loud whelp. I could feel the rumbling of laughter beneath my hands on his chest and continued to smile like a child being tickled.

In this very moment, away from all of my problems and on the road with Deacon, I felt unstoppable. I knew from experience this feeling typically wore off, that it was merely temporary, however I was enjoying it while it lasted.

We turned up Ocean Drive and the smell of the ocean air hit me like a force. I knew without a doubt he was taking us to the beach, there was really no question. We drove past what I called hotel row, the Beacon Hotel, Colony Hotel, Boulevard Hotel, and more before finally finding parking. One of the best parts of living in Miami was that no matter the time of day, the beach was always an acceptable place to be, and the proof was in the lots.

There was a time, after I lost the baby, that I found solace in going to the beach early in the morning to watch the sunrise. The water was calm and the humidity low, but I enjoyed observing the water crashing onto the sand. Sometimes I even found myself closing my eyes as I sat on the warm sand and dug my toes into it, as I simply listened to the calming sounds of morning seagulls and the water touching the shoreline.

After we dismounted, Deacon took my helmet and I fussed with my blouse, having shed my jacket under the hot sun.

"This is nice," I admitted, looking out. He probably didn't intend on me catching him staring at me, but I did and he didn't even try to pretend he wasn't. "Didn't your parents ever teach you it's not polite to stare?" I tried to act serious, but I couldn't hold back a twitch of my lip as I bit back my amusement. It felt good to be the object of his attention, his affection again. But I was only fooling myself if I let myself believe things could be different.

Deacon stuck his hand in the pocket of his pants and looked down now, kicking a rock on the ground. "Can't help it, not when you're the sight to behold."

I quickly rolled my eyes and brushed him off. "This is not what I got on the back of your motorcycle for."

"What?" He acted innocent. "Can't a man compliment a beautiful woman? Or is that a crime?"

"No crime." I felt my cheeks get hot and glanced around, intentionally avoiding his eyes. "Why are we here anyway?"

He shrugged his shoulders and I could feel his gaze on me again, but I didn't dare catch him this time. "Just thought it might be nice."

I cleared my throat. We already established I thought it was nice, too, so I began walking toward the beach.

When I noticed he wasn't next to me, I tossed my head over my shoulder. "You coming?"

The water was still, like glass, and beach umbrellas and blankets littered the beach. It was an excellent day for the beach and apparently everyone knew it. I stopped to take off my sneakers and Deke followed suit.

I let my toes sink into the hot sand, the sun almost directly over us by now. I sighed as we began walking and my feet pressed in further. "I don't think I'll ever get over this feeling. There's nothing quite like it. I couldn't imagine living in a state where I couldn't go to the beach nearly anytime of the year and enjoy the sand just like this."

"I certainly missed this," he admitted, looking out at the water and tilting his chin to a boat sailing in the distance. "I always imagined I'd have a boat one day. Nothing too big, just big enough for my wife and kids to head out on the water with."

I sucked in and then let out the breath real slow. "My parents had a boat for a millisecond there, got it at a boat auction. I was too young and don't remember the name my father gave it. Just heard stories years later about it. My mother never liked it, though, said going out on the water distracted my father from what was really important."

"What's more important than being with the ones you love and making memories like that?"

I shook my head. I didn't know why I brought my parents up. I didn't want to talk about them, let alone think about them. "Let's just change the subject, okay?"

He frowned. "Sure."

Coming up to a group of teenagers playing beach volleyball, I steered us in the direction of turning around. "Do you mind? I'd really like to not get hit in the head by a ball."

He chuckled. "You suck at beach volleyball."

I feigned exasperation and swatted his arm. "Hey! You take that back."

He pushed his hands deeper in his pocket and shook his head, smiling. "No can do. You really stink."

"Okay, but that's not fair because you're judging it based on that one game and those other girls were really mean." I added, "And good. They were like pros or something."

"Yeah, Olympic athletes," he teased.

I pushed the side of my body into his as we were walking and shoved him over a tad. "Whatever."

"So a lawyer?" Deacon asked a beat later. "The debate master. Guess all those years arguing with people finally paid off." He winked at me. "And at your dad's law firm, no less, I can hardly believe it."

I chuckled, ignoring the judgment I heard in his voice. He meant well, he just didn't understand. Things had changed, even if he didn't want to believe me. Time moved on and I had to with it. "I wanted to help people and I love researching, so when it came time to pick my major in college I went into political science with minors in business and psychology."

"Quite the package."

"Yeah, but I enjoyed all my classes and picked up something from every one of them. It makes me better at my job today, or at least I like to think so."

He nodded. "You never said you like what you do, though. Do you?"

"Does anyone really like what they do?"

"If you're not happy, then why are you doing it?" he challenged me.

I sighed, not liking where this was going. "Deke, please, you have no right to push me like this. Not anymore." He had to remember that we weren't teenagers anymore. I had to grow up and stop resisting my parents.

The wind was picking up and my strands of my hair were beginning to fall. I supposed between this, the motorcycle ride, and the helmet, my hair never stood a chance, did it? He looked over at me, took a hand out of his pocket, and lightly brushed the loose pieces behind my ear.

I blinked and let the moment fade away. I needed to remember as much as I wanted nothing more than for this to be my life—spending time with Deacon, talking to him—it was never going to be the case. We both had to come to terms with that. I had a long time ago, but my heart needed reminding because seeing him and spending time with him in this way was confusing things.

"I'm sorry I asked."

Remembering what my mother urged me to do in the hospital, the harsh words she spat at me, I swallowed and told him, "It's okay, but not everyone gets a happy ending, Deke. That's life."

"I don't believe that, not one bit." He ran a hand through his own hair now. "People get happy endings because they make it so, they work for it, fight for it. So I guess you're right in that people don't just get them, but they certain can. It's all in their control."

"Are we talking about people or me? Or better yet, you?"

He shrugged and tossed up a pile of sand with his foot, his hands in his pockets again. "I just want you to be happy, Jenna."

Somewhere in the middle of him talking, we stopped moving and stared at each other. His icy-blue eyes were like a drug to me.

No, Deacon was like a drug to me.

And I was an addict.

I couldn't seem to stop myself from taking more, from indulging one last time. But it never was the last time because I needed more. One taste of Deacon, one touch wasn't enough. I wanted to have him, all of him, forever.

I moved the position of my feet in the sand to lean in closer, to get one brief taste of him, to feel what it would be like to have his lips on mine right now, when I stepped on something hard. "Shit!" I cursed aloud, bringing my foot in the air and balancing on my other one.

He grabbed my arm, though, to make sure I didn't fall. "What is it?"

I looked down and noticed a seashell. I stepped on a seashell.

After I massaged the bottom of my foot, which was still tingling with the sensation of stepping on the seashell, I put my foot down elsewhere and couldn't help but laugh.

I put a hand over my mouth and laughed some more, Deacon just staring at me, a confused look on his face. "That's funny to you?"

"It's not," I said. It was exactly what I needed, though, to wake me up. To slap some damn sense into me. I couldn't be with Deacon, period. I couldn't keep teasing myself. What was my problem? Why was I torturing myself in this way? I knew I couldn't have him and kissing him, coming back from that would've only been hell on wheels. I wouldn't have been able to stop myself and that one kiss would've turned into a whole hell of a lot more.

He leaned down and picked it up, brushing the sand off of it. "Here," he said, handing it to me. "You should keep it. Something to remember today by, this moment."

My expression softened and I licked my lips, grabbing it from him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything." I motioned to everything around us, still clutching the seashell in my hand. "For all of this."

He smiled and for a second there I could see a flicker of hope in his eyes. I closed my own eyes because I knew what I had to do. I had no choice, really. "But this," I insisted, motioning between us now, "can never happen, okay? I don't want it to."

The corner of Deacon's lips lifted slightly, almost deviously. "I've never been a great listener."

I rubbed my forehead and blew outwardly. "I really wish you would this time. I don't want to hurt you, so please just let this go, okay?"

Although he nodded, I could tell by the look in his eyes that he could see right through me, which meant he knew I wasn't being honest with him, or myself.

The worst part about what I could see when I looked in his eyes was that he wasn't intending on letting me go anytime soon.