Page 34 of The Promise Of Rain
Lips moving in my hair, he promised, “I’ll see you soon, baby.I’m not going anywhere this time.”
God help me, I believed him.
I don’t know how long I stood staring at the door before flicking the lock closed and backing away.
Deacon Raine was an atomic bomb.
A heartbreak waiting to happen.
The chattering of my teeth reminded me to pull myself together.I had no intention of turning into my mother, allowing a man to sweep into my life and fill my head with dreams only for him to change his mind and take another piece of my heart with him when he left.
Deacon was no different than anyone else in this town.He’d already proven that once.
He was just a man; a man I loved in another life.And even if I loved him still, I would choose peace.Softness.Stability.
Ansel was the only man I wanted in my life.Knowing he was expecting me spurred me onward, and I headed for the shower to get ready.
He and Darlene were the only bright spot in a day that passed in a blur of mixed emotions and far too many tissues and shed tears.
Eyes swollen and heavy, I climbed into bed only to toss and turn.By 2 AM, I gave up and turned on my bedside lamp.
I eyed the closet, almost as if the box I hid within called to me.
I wish you were here.
It had been a while since my last letter, but it seemed weird to write one now, so I grabbed my book instead.The last time I looked at the clock, it was just after five.
Hours later, I woke up groggy and irritable, banging around my kitchen like a belligerent hippo until my coffee was ready.
Who was Deacon Raine to walk back into my life and demand a redo?
Tossing my hair up into a messy bun, I prepared to face the world.I wished I didn’t have to, but there was no help for it.I closed the bakery on Mondays for this very reason.
My days began early, I needed supplies, and by the time I closed up shop, the last thing I wanted to do was go grocery shopping.
And my personal fridge was positively abysmal.
Two cups of coffee, a quick shower, and a stern talking to later, I pulled on my boots and fastened my old coat up to my throat.At least it covered my throat and had a hood even if it didn’t cover my bum.
Not for the first time, I lamented the broken zipper on my good coat.One thing was certain: the cold did nothing to freeze the extra fat off my bottom.Maybe I’d venture out to the Peppergrove Mall and get a new coat after picking up groceries.
Yesterday’s sun was nowhere to be seen which perfectly suited my state of mind but did nothing to entice me to venture outside.
Wrapped up as best I could against the cold, I edged down the stairs with a giant oatmeal raisin cookie clutched in one hand, and a death grip on the railing with the other.The sensation of rolling pebbles beneath the soles of my boots stopped me in my tracks.
Salt.
Salt covered every inch of every single step leading up to my door.
Reaching the path to the parking lot, I found more of the same.My jaw dropped when I reached my parking spot and noted a veritable sea of it surrounding Ansel’s little car.
Deacon.
The one winter we spent together, he sanded and salted like it was his religion.
Anger billowed and rolled in my stomach.
How dare he come back here and dangle all this in front of me after snatching it away when I needed him the most?
