Page 57 of When You Saved Me

“What do you mean?” my mother chimed in.

Biting my lip I sucked in a deep breath. Here we go. “My landlord is Deacon Calhoun. The guy who saved me from the apartment fire.”

There was a gasp from my mother. They mumbled something to one another and my heart raced as I waited for their response.

It was my father who spoke first. “This certainly seems like divine intervention, sweetheart. I mean to have ended up in the same small town almost seven years after the fire…wow!!”

“Divine intervention or not, all I care about is if he’s treating our daughter right.”

My parents had always been deeply feeling, spiritual people. They saw signs in everything, and this situation was no different. I felt it too. The day of the fire, I knew there was something special between Deacon and me. Not that I told anyone that—including my parents. But my ending up here wasn’t something they would simply chalk up to chance.

Part of me wanted to be wrong about my connection with Deacon because if I was honest with myself, it was a huge disappointment that he hadn’t come to see me in the hospital or at least tried to contact me at some point. My information had been shared all over the news. It was well known who I was given the status of my parents and how well involved they were in the Charlotte community.

Back then, I had to hide how I felt about him. It was ridiculous thinking that you could feel a connection to someone after meeting them only for a few minutes. So, I attributed it to the adrenaline and tried to stomp out all thoughts of him from that day. But now…I understood without a shadow of a doubt that I had been right. There was something indescribable between Deacon and I. Something that had brought us together again.

“He’s not my boyfriend, mama.” Even though I really wanted him to be. Drops of water fell from the snow on the roof. It would all melt soon and we would have to figure out what we were doing. What everything that had happened between us meant.

“I don’t care if he’s your boyfriend. Right now, you’re living together, and I just hope he’s treating you right.”

“Of course he is. You really think I would put up with a man not treating me well?”

They were both quiet and I sighed. “Okay, maybe I’ve made some mistakes with men in the past. But I’ve learned my value and if he wasn’t treating me well then, I’d make sure he did.”

“We just don’t want to see you struggle, Charlie. You’re too nice sometimes. I’d hate to see you let anyone else walk all over you again.”

It was a part of myself that I was equally proud of and resentful toward. My parents were right. Iwastoo nice sometimes and I’d had to learn the hard way that not everyone gave as much of themselves as I did. I just wanted to see the good in people. The idea that others would just take and not give in return seemed awful to me. I couldn’t comprehend it.

The aftermath from the fire had opened my eyes though. And I hadn’t exactly had the best string of relationships before that. I’d dated several guys who seemed great at the beginning, but wound up cheating on me or taking advantage of how much money my artwork brought in.

“I promise he’s not like that and Casper loves him.”

“Really?” my mother asked, shocked. “That cat barely stands us being around. The only person he likes is you.”

“Yeah,” I snorted. “Until he met Deacon. They’re basically best friends now.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m glad you’re having a good time despite the storm snowing you in.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I filled them in on my latest art piece before hanging up the phone and slipping it into my jeans pocket. Extending my open palm under the awning of the porch, I caught a droplet of water, watching it splash across my skin. Tinier drops scattered, leaving a cool zap in their wake.

When the door opened behind me, I turned around to find Deacon standing with his hands in his pockets. My breath caught just from the sight of him. It had only been twenty minutes, and my heart already missed his presence.

“How’re your parents holding up?” He strode toward me, took my hands in his and blew hot air against them to warm them up. I blushed from his touch remembering how he’d kept me up all night last night.

“They’re doing okay. Worried about me.”

“Did you tell them you were staying here?” His voice was gruff.

“I did.”

And, his raised eyebrows seemed to ask.

I blew out a breath. There was no way I was going to tell him how my father thought our second meeting was divine intervention and that maybe we were meant to be. Deacon was already easily startled. I didn’t need my families woo-wooness scaring him off.

“My mama said that she’d beat you up if you mistreated me.”

He smiled widely. “She sounds like a badass.”

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