Finding Solace: A Small Town Second Chance Romance

by S. L. Scott

  Meredith has always been a loving woman, but tonight, I feel closer to her than ever. “Thank you for having me over.”

  “My pleasure, dear.” She glances at her son. “Jason, you’ll see her home safely?”

  I find we both struggle to keep our eyes off each other. Hands too, but we’ve done a better job of that with his mom around. Though all bets are off when she’s gone. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Good night,” we say in unison as she slips out of the kitchen.

  After cleaning the dishes, Jason comes over and takes my hand. “Are you ready?”

  “Born ready for you.”

  His chuckle is deep, but he keeps it under wraps so it doesn’t travel through the house. “You’re drunk, Delilah.”

  “Not drunk . . .” I waver, trying to pinch my fingers together. “Okay, maybe a little tipsy, but you make me feel the same way.”

  “You get drunk on me?”

  “You’re a very dangerous man to my self-control.”

  A thumb runs over his bottom lip. “What am I going to do with you?”

  Throwing myself at him, I wrap my arms around his neck. “Take me home and have your wicked way with me?” I hear the hope in my voice when I was going for sultry.

  “Who needs dessert when I have other ways of satisfying my sweet tooth? C’mon. I’m taking you home.”

  “I want you to stay the night.”

  He holds the door open for me. “You couldn’t keep me away, honeysuckle.”

  There’s something in the way he says it that makes me think he might be right. Luckily for me, I don’t want to keep him away.

  He grabs a backpack by the door. “Change of clothes,” he adds.

  “You’re prepared.”

  “Always, baby.”

  It’s pitch-black in the country. It’s not a long drive, but it’s long enough for the wine to settle my mind and lull me into the melody of the night. Parking out front, he comes around and picks me up. “You don’t have to carry me,” I lamely protest by completely relaxing in his arms.

  “I want to.”

  Just that simple.

  I once believed I knew exactly where I stood with him. If I hadn’t been blinded by feelings of betrayal and hurt, I would have realized he hadn’t changed. He just opens up and tells it like it is. He says what he likes and what he wants with no room for misunderstanding.

  “Bedroom or living room?” He kicks the door closed and then locks the bolt.

  “Living room. Want to watch TV?”

  “Sure.” He sets me on the couch and then clicks on some manhunt show that is way too boring to watch. I straddle his lap, and the show is forgotten as we find ourselves tangled in love right where we are. With our bodies joined in passion, I slow down on top of him and kiss his cheek. “I hate the years you were gone.”

  Pushing my hair back, he stares up at me on his lap. “I never left you. You were always on my mind.”

  17

  Jason

  Delilah snores.

  I think it’s just from being drunk and sleeping so deeply, but I never noticed it before. It’s cute when she does it, like a little snuffle-snort. My body shakes from laughter. I’ve tried to hold it back so the disruption doesn’t wake her. I take her shoes off and work the covers over her, tucking her in and sitting beside her.

  Being in her life wasn’t something I dreamed possible years or even months ago. Hell, two days ago, I was coming out here just to see if she’d even talk to me, so I’m not sure I can feel settled forty-eight hours later that everything will be all right. I want to, though. For her and for me. I want her. I want this life with her.

  A slower pace would do me some good and having a home base would be even better. A companion. A partner. A lover. A wife . . . It’s something I never thought probable, but now that I’m in the middle of the possibilities with her, I don’t want to leave.

  I’m not that tired so I go back downstairs, click off the TV and the living room lamp, and grab a beer from the fridge, wanting to go out on the front porch to enjoy the quiet night.

  Grabbing a beer from the fridge, I twist the cap off and flick it into the sink, landing it exactly where I intended. Amused by my minor achievement, I go to retrieve it but stop when I look down. A full cobbler dish is angled in the sink with a big scoop taken out. The remains of that scoop are splattered across a broken dish.

  When I pick a piece of the shattered plate up, I notice the blood that has seeped into the jagged edges of the porcelain. I recognize the pattern of the plate as one Delilah always cherished. We were never allowed to use these floral-trimmed plates because they were her mother’s. When I look up, it’s easy to find the vacant spot among the display. She had to make quite the effort to eat off it. Wonder what spurred her to use that plate, and why did it end up broken in the sink with what looks to be perfectly good cobbler?

  What’s even more odd is that Delilah lied. I can guess all night, but I’m not getting any answers until morning from the snoring beauty upstairs. I carefully pull the pieces of the plate out of the sink and put them in a brown sack I find in the pantry.

  On the porch, I sit down on the steps after trashing the bag. If that plate weren’t so shattered, I would have tried to piece it back together. Much like she’s pieced me back together.

  I hear the bugs and see the fireflies in the field. The light above Lorraine and Paul’s front door shines in the distance. I should probably go by tomorrow and say hello. I’m sure they know I’m in town, so it’s rude not to stop by before too much time passes.

  With my feet kicked up on the railing, I drink my beer, feeling right at home here. If I’m not careful, I could fall asleep on this porch. There’s no way I want that to happen when I know what’s waiting for me upstairs. Thinking about her, I decide to join her.

  But lights in the distance catch my eyes before I go inside. A car speeding down the main road approaches the curve just past the farm. They’re going to end up lodging that piece of shit in the fence or the field. But then it slows so much that I squat down. It comes to a stop at the end of the long drive that leads to the house.

  When the lights are cut, I stand. Who the fuck is it, and what the fuck are they up to?

  I maneuver off the porch from the other side and duck behind a tree in the yard. Making my way to the edge of the fence closest to the house, I stare. The driver remains in the car, and the inside’s too dark to tell who it is from here. I’m about to sneak through the field and approach from behind, but the lights flick back on and the car drives off. But not before I get the make, model, and license plate number.

  I’ve not seen many BMWs around the county. It’s a rich man’s car when most here live mortgage payment to payment. Trucks are much more practical. So was that a wrong turn or something else? With no sign of the car returning, I go back inside the house. All doors and windows are double-checked on the first floor before I go upstairs to Delilah’s bedroom.

  She’s still sleeping soundly, which relieves me. Knowing she’s comfortable gives me peace of mind. I hope she feels the same from me, that I can bring back the same confidence she once had, the confidence that motherfucking ex of hers stole.

  Cole Cutler is lucky I let him go with a minor takedown outside Red River. I’m not sure how or when, but he better hope we don’t meet in a dark alley anytime soon.

  I go through my nighttime routine like I live here, which makes me wonder if I eventually will. I’d never considered it since Delilah never thought she’d be living here after college, but plans change, life happens, and sometimes, we end up exactly where we were always meant to be. Standing over the bed, I stare at this stunning woman—snuffle-snorts and tattoos from drunken nights—and I’m starting to feel this might be where I was meant to be all along.

  Shifting the covers on the free side of the bed, I slide her over. Her skirt scrunches up around her thighs, and I let my eyes follow the long lines of her legs. Reaching down, I t
oss the blanket to the end of the bed and slide down the zipper on her hip to shimmy the skirt off. I work her sweater from her shoulders down one arm and then the other, leaving her hopefully a little more comfortable in a bra and underwear. Pulling the covers over her, I lean down and kiss her head before slipping in next to her.

  I don’t worry about macho pride. I get right in, bumping up against her, and then spoon the hell out this woman. My woman.

  But sleep evades me.

  Headlights.

  A BMW.

  Stopping on the road in front of her property isn’t normal in the country. Not that spot. Not this time of night. It feels off. My instincts are wired on high alert. The problem is I’m not sure if I’m dealing with a threat from my past or a present danger.

  I kiss the back of her head and tighten my hold on this angel of mine. Have I put her at risk by being here? What about my mom? Was it a mistake to come home?

  It’s hard to think I made a mistake when I’m currently holding the one reason I survived the past few years. “Jason . . .”

  My name breaks through the stormy clouds of my thoughts. “Yeah?” I reply softly.

  “Please . . .”

  That’s when I realize she’s still asleep. Sitting up, I hover over her and watch her face as it contorts in pain. Shit. I don’t want to hurt her. Not even in her dreams, or maybe she’s having a nightmare about me. I hurt her once, which I’ll regret forever. If I had just told her, but my planned surprise backfired before I could fix the damage my secret caused. Her dreams should be filled with the good memories, not the bad.

  I run my hand over her arm, trying to comfort her.

  “No. Please. Please, Cole. Don’t hit—” She balls up, her words choking in her throat as she starts to cry. “Jason. Help . . .”

  What the fuck? “Delilah?” My voice is louder than I intend, firmer. I want to wake her up. Need to.

  Air whooshes from between her lips, and her chest lowers just as her eyes open, but she remains quiet. “Are you awake?” I ask.

  A hand covers her head, and her gaze finds me in the dark. “What’s wrong?”

  She’s asking me? “You were having a bad dream.”

  “Oh.” Her reply is flat, and she looks at the ceiling. “Sorry for waking you.”

  “You didn’t wake me.”

  She glances back at me, and sadness comes over her expression, sinking into the corners of her eyes. “Can’t sleep?”

  “No.” I lie back, wondering what is happening with her, worried about her. Does this happen so much that she’s used to the abuse even in her sleep?

  “What is it?”

  “I hate that you have bad dreams.”

  “They’re just nightmares. They’re not real.”

  “But they were.”

  She sighs. “Yes, Jason. They were, but they’re not anymore.”

  I can dance around this wall she’s built, but I don’t want to be on the other side of it. “Can I ask you something that’s rattled me for years?”

  “Sure.” She extends the word, dragging it out. Her eyebrows are knitted together as she narrows her eyes.

  “I remember after I transferred, after we had broken up, I made a touchdown, winning the game. The team piled onto the field, tackling me with cheers in celebration. I knew you weren’t there.” Her body tenses, but I keep going. “I knew you weren’t there, but I looked across the track and then up into the stands anyway like a bad habit I couldn’t break. You know what happened?”

  Hesitating at first, she takes a deep breath, then her eyes find the ceiling again. “What?”

  “Delilah, you know what happened, so tell me.”

  Her body molds to my side, but she keeps her head down. “I watched you score that touchdown. I watched your team lift you onto their shoulders. I watched the crowd cheer for you. I watched you.”

  “I saw you. I ran as fast as I could, jumping a wall to get into those stands and work my way to the section where I’d seen you, but you were gone.”

  “I shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

  “But you were.” I sit, turning my back and rubbing the bridge of my nose as I tried to understand what happened. “You were there for me and then you weren’t. Why?”

  “Because Cole was playing, and I left his game to come to yours. I only needed to see you to breathe again, to feel whole, to feel what I’d missed. It was always so much better with you.”

  I move to the end of the bed, needing some room to think. I have no energy as the emotional toll has wiped away all my strength. “Then why’d you stay in this town? You could have left. You could have gotten as far away from him as possible. I would have helped you. Fuck, I would have gone with you.”

  When she doesn’t answer, I turn back. She’s leaning her head on the mattress, the pillow pushed behind her. The covers expose her shoulders, but she appears exposed in other ways—vulnerable—even in the dark. I want to help her, to fill in the words that hurt her too much to say, but the longer she remains silent, the more I start to realize that they won’t heal but hurt us both if spoken. I’m about to end the pain she’s reliving by the distance that’s taken over her gaze when she says, “He didn’t just hurt me after we got married.”

  Fuck.

  Running my hand over her shin, I need her to know that I’m here how she needs me. She continues, “At first, I stayed to help my dad, but he said I was meant to fly. It was all set. I was going to move to New York with my sister, but Cole didn’t like that idea and always knew just the right way to terrorize me. He threatened to set fire to the fields, and then to me, to ruin me for all others.”

  Guilt consumes me, and I drop my head into my hands. The pads of my palms dig into my eyes before standing and walking to the window. I hate these damn blinds. They’re useless, making me want to rip them from the frame. I don’t but yank the cord instead, the metal slats slamming together.

  “Jason! What are you doing?”

  I open the glass and climb out, my muscle memory driving me through from all the times I came and went through this window. Pacing the roof above the porch, I don’t know how to make this right. I don’t know how she can even allow me back into her life. When she needed me most, I didn’t protect her. I’ve proven I can’t.

  How can she bear to look at me?

  How can she act like she forgives me?

  My feet stop, and I look back at the window as she climbs out. Standing there, she says, “Why are you upset?”

  Sitting down near the corner where the trellis hangs, I look over the property, too ashamed to look at her. “I’ll never fucking forgive myself for letting him put his hands on you.”

  “Is that what you think?” I glance at her when she comes closer and sits, keeping a foot or so between us. “You think you let any of that happen?”

  “I didn’t stop it—”

  “You couldn’t stop it.” She reaches over, stretching across the distance that seems wider than the visible space. “Don’t go blaming yourself for something you had nothing to do with and no control over.”

  “I loved you.”

  “And I loved you,” she replies easily. “But it wasn’t love keeping us apart. It wasn’t you transferring either. It wasn’t a lack of want on my part. I wanted you. Mostly, I needed you. You meant so much to me that I struggled to live life without you in it.”

  “But you stayed with him. Why?”

  “Like you, I didn’t feel I had much choice in the matter. I tried to leave once. He dragged me from the truck before I could stick the key in the ignition. It didn’t matter how hard I fought, his hands tightened around my neck, forcing me to the lake.” She stops talking. I’m so tempted to fill in the space. I want to take away her pain, to tell her it’s okay, but I can’t. I have to let her work through this now. “We stood on the dock. While I gasped for air, he looked into my eyes and told me he would drown me before he let me leave him. He would kill me before I embarrassed him in front of the whole town l
ike that.”

  I don’t think she realizes her hands are on her neck, rubbing lightly as if she’s soothing her throat.

  “He knew,” I say.

  “Knew what?”

  “He knew I was going to ask you to marry me.”

  A scoff-sob escapes her as she looks at her lap, her chest denting in momentarily. When she turns her eyes toward the sky, I can see how they shine, a layer of tears ready to fall. “Of course, he did. Cole had his eyes set on the prize long before that argument between us.”

  “Why didn’t you come to me? Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

  “I believed him.” She turns to me, her arms wrapped around her knees. “I believed him when he said you transferred because you didn’t have the nerve to break up with me. I believed him when he told me you had been bragging about how many girls you’d been with. I believed everything because he was my friend and your best friend, and surely, everything he was telling me was true.”

  “Delilah, you have to believe me. None of that was true. I never, never slept with anyone else back then. You were my everything. I knew what I had; how special you were. Are. I’ve been so fucking angry with you. Through miles of travel and years apart, I never understood why you left me without another word, without giving me something I could hold on to enough to let you go. Or how you could be with him.”

  And that’s the most honest we’ve been for some time. Now I know the truth. Now I know why. Even though it’s not until years later, knowing still allows so much of my anger to evaporate.

  He had lied to her.

  “I’m so sorry, Jason. So, so sorry. I—”

  “No. Don’t apologize. I’m sorry you believed him then, and I’m angry because you were hurt. But you need to believe me now. I love you.”

  Her eyes flash to mine. “Loved? You loved me like I loved you.”

  I never stopped loving her, even when I wanted to hate her. My pretty girl has simply owned my heart all along.

  “What about me?” I didn’t mean to step up the second after the pretty girl turned Cole down. But my thoughts were voiced before I knew what I was doing.