Second Chance Hero Read online

  Second Chance Hero

  Rebecca Sherwin

  Copyright © 2013

  Rebecca R Sherwin

  All Rights Reserved

  For Alfie.

  When you find the girl who makes your heart

  beat a new rhythm, the girl who becomes your sun,

  your moon and all the stars in the sky, don’t ever let her go.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Christmas 2007

  “Here you go, Dad.”

  “Ah, gracias, querida.”

  I hand my dad a glass of whiskey and sit next to him on the sofa, leaning my head on his shoulder. It’s Christmas night, and we’re settled down in front of the TV. I stare out at the harbour covered in a thick layer of snow and the ocean in the near distance, the waves crashing against the beach, lit by the moon and a few street lights. It feels good to be home. After a tough term at university, I caught the train home with my brother Jonas and childhood best friend, Deacon in time to spend the holidays with my parents.

  I tear my gaze away from the tranquillity of outside and look at the family I miss so much. My sister, Jade is cuddled up with her husband Steve and they’re both resting their hands on her swollen stomach. She’s due to give birth in February but she looks like she’s just about ready to pop. My mum is snuggled up under a blanket in her armchair by the window, sleeping after the mammoth Christmas dinner she prepared for us all today.

  “Hey, Jen?” Jonas calls as he comes in the room from sneaking a cigarette outside, “I’m going to The Duck if you wanna come? Everyone will be there.”

  I contemplate staying in and drinking some more Baileys in front of the open fire and watching whatever panel show Dad has put on. But I know I won’t.

  “Sure.”

  I hand Dad my drink, knowing full well he’ll drink it and head out to the front door to wrap myself up. Winters are harsh near the sea; the breeze is bitter and the moisture from the sea air settles on the snowless patches of ground in a sheet of ice.

  I pull a jumper over my head, then my hat and coat, pulling the zip right up. Jonas hands me my new scarf and glove set. We all got one from Great-Aunt Olivia; lovely garments, but not something two uni-students and a mother-to-be would put on their Christmas list. I’m grateful none the less and snuggle into the scarf as Jonas opens the front door. The cold hits me like a tonne of frozen bricks and I catch my breath. Stick with the Baileys and comedy, Jenna.

  “You alright, sis?” Jonas calls, waiting for me at the end of the path.

  I nod, unable to speak past my lips freezing up and the involuntary shivers wracking my body. I take the deepest breath I can, grab on to the door handle and step on to the floor outside. I catch up with Jonas as we walk along the harbour to The Duck on the Harbour.

  The pub is empty apart from the couple in the corner we’re on our way to meet. Coming from a town as small as Folquay, everyone knows everyone and my siblings and I were lucky to find the Reid’s. There were five of us, although with Jade being married and pregnant she isn’t interested in hanging out any more. So now there are four of us, who all grew up together: Deacon who’s a few months older than me, and Bradley who is the same age as Jonas.

  “Hey!” Bradley shouts as we enter the pub, “The gang’s all here!”

  I shiver as the warmth of the fire by the bar hits me, and wave to Sue the landlady. I make a beeline for the amber warmth, but before I can get close enough to thaw out my face, Bradley jumps up and wraps me in his arms. He’s warm and drunk and I hug him back, realising how much I’ve missed him in the six months since we all met up last.

  “Check you out.” He holds me at arm’s length and examines me, “Look at baby Jenna, all grown up.”

  I roll my eyes and walk towards the table, taking my coat off on the way. Deacon slips out of the booth and pulls me into him, squeezing tightly. I sag into his tall, lean body and accept the warmth he’s sharing with me.

  “Hey, buddy.” He says, letting go and putting his hands on my cheeks, “I know you don’t like the cold. It’s not this bad in London. At least the buildings block the wind.”

  I agree and shiver again, warm and relaxed. I slide in the booth and Deacon follows. Jonas and Bradley head to the bar, and I realise I’ve forgotten my purse. Hell, who am I kidding? They never let me pay for anything; I hadn’t needed to remember my purse. One drink and I’ll go home.

  “So, are you enjoying being back, Red?”

  I’ve called Deacon ‘Red’ since I first started talking; I couldn’t say ‘Deacon’ when I was little - Red just stuck and I think he’ll have that pet name forever.

  “I don’t know. I was enjoying the city. There’s no night life here. Just open fires, fishermen and beer.”

  He stretches, putting his arm on the back of the seat behind me.

  “I love coming back. It’s relaxing.”

  “Mm hmm.” He smiles, and strokes the back of my hair like he always does. It sends shivers down my spine and I’m frozen in one spot, afraid to move in case he stops.

  “I got beers and vodka.” Jonas interrupts, carrying trays of beer and vodka shots.

  He puts the tray down.

  “I don’t like pints, J.”

  He laughs, “Which is why, little sis, I got you two halves. You can keep up and keep your femininity.”

  “What femininity?” Brad erupts into a bellowing laugh opposite me, “I remember when baby Jen used to run rings around us with a football.”

  This is what I love. Being at home, with the people I’ve known my whole life. I love uni; I’m studying business management so I can open up my own cake business when I graduate. Deacon is in most of my classes, we’re pretty much inseparable but nothing beats coming back home.

  “Okay, vodka first.” Deacon announces and I watch his lips as the words roll off his tongue. I quickly grab the plastic shot cup of vodka and we all slam them at the same time. I make quick work of my beer, preparing to go home.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Brad challenges as I stand and prepare to wrap myself back up, “You so grown up? Prove it.”

  “I need to go home,” I slur, swaying as I protest, “I have to bake a cake for Mum in the morning.”

  It’s late. Really late, and Sue is waiting to close up. But it’s down season so she’s happy so sit behind the bar watching the TV and take in as much money as she can get.

  “I got a trick to show you, Jen,” Bradley grins and wiggles his eyebrows, “I can pin a glass of water on a wall.”

  “Fuck off.” I roll my eyes and shake my head, my choice of language earning disapproving looks from Jonas and Bradley.

  Deacon is used to my expanded vocabulary since discovering what life outside Folqua
y or Grandpa’s house in Spain is like and is sat smirking, his fingers returning to the back of my neck.

  “Come on, I’m twenty years old, get over it. Show us the trick, smart arse.”

  “Sue?” Bradley calls to the landlady, “A glass of water and a drawing pin please.”

  She slides it to our end of the bar, with a pin and Bradley places the glass on the wall next to me. I squint, wondering how he’s going to make this trick work. How can you pin a glass?

  He fiddles with the pin as he presses it to the wall, but it slips from his fingers and lands by his feet.

  “Shit,” He curses, sighing in exasperation, “Jen, get that please. I’ve got the glass in position.”

  Jonas and Deacon are watching intently; obviously he hasn’t shown them yet either. I lean down from the booth and pick up the pin. At exactly the same time that Bradley pulls the glass from the wall and I’m hit with half a pint of cold water.

  “You idiot!” I shout, shoving him in the chest, embarrassed for being stupid enough to fall for it.

  Jonas and Bradley erupt into a fit of drunken laughter while I shake as much water from me as possible.

  “If I die of pneumonia, I’ll haunt you.”

  He raises his hands in defence, laughing so hard tears stream from his eyes. Deacon’s face is dead straight, his brows furrowed under the blond hair that flops across his forehead and I’m grateful he’s on my side, although I can see the funny side of the trick. If it was summer. Or at least not snowing.

  “I think it’s time to head home.” Jonas looks at his watch and then at me as I wring out my hair.

  “You guys go.” I say shaking my head, “I’m gonna sit by the fire until I dry off.”

  Jonas and Bradley prepare to leave, knowing Deacon will stay with me. Deacon is always there for me when I need him. He’s often left looking after me when the boys bail. He’s like my own personal Superman. Bradley and Jonas continue to chuckle to themselves as they get ready to go home.

  “Make sure she gets home, Deac.”

  He ignores them, more pissed off with the trick than I am, but he leans over and puts his coat on the floor in front of the fire for me to sit on. I sit as close as I can to dry my hair off, shivering as the icy air from outside gushes in as the door closes slowly behind the boys.

  “Sue, can we have two cocoas please? When she’s dry we’ll go.”

  “Sure thing, Deac. Glad someone stayed with her. It’s like an ice death-trap out there.”

  I can tell by her walking off and rubbing her backside that she obviously fell on it during her last cigarette break. I laugh and turn back to the fire. Deacon places my cup of hot chocolate and marshmallows on the floor, and sits cross-legged next to me with his.

  “Thanks, Red.”

  “That was a shit trick. Dry off and I’ll walk you home.”

  ~

  “You wanna sit on the sea front for a bit?” Deacon asks as we’re walking home.

  “Seriously, Red? It’s like two in the morning.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” He teases.

  “I think I left it down the road with my frost bitten toes.”

  He shakes his head, smiling.

  “Come on then. But just for a bit.”

  Even in the darkness, I can see his smile, and I mirror it before I realise. I link my arm in his and we head to the beach - a handy five minute walk in the summer, an agonisingly cold voyage in the early hours of Boxing Day.

  “Even in the cold, it’s beautiful out here.” I whisper looking out as the violent waves swirl around each other in their battle to hit the sand.

  Deacon snorts, “So London hasn’t got to you at all, living there for the last two years?”

  I shrug. It has, but I’m homesick most of the time; I love being back the two or three times a year that I can get here.

  I realise Deacon is looking at me, and I frown, confused.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to do something,” He clears his throat, “If you don’t like it, forget it ever happened, okay?”

  I nod. I haven’t got a clue what he’s talking about, but I agree anyway. He presses his hands to my face like he did in the pub and I’m grateful again for the warmth. I close my eyes allowing the warmth to spread and wonder how I’ve got half a sheep knitted around my hands and they’re still numb as anything, yet his are –

  Whoa. Deacon’s lips touch mine, so gently I’m not sure if it’s real. I want to look but I’m stunned and can't open my eyes. He presses his mouth to mine with a little more force, asking for my permission. I pull my frozen hands out from my coat pocket and wrap my arms around his neck; the heat radiates off Deacon as he takes a step forward and our bodies touch. I’ve never admitted to myself that I’m attracted to the man who holds my hair back when I’m drunkenly sick everywhere, who’s held me when I’ve cried over boys; the same man who dried my hair for me when I had a broken wrist a few months back and couldn't do it myself. But now as his lips caress mine, and he licks along my bottom lip asking for my approval to deepen our embrace, I can admit that I’m attracted to my best friend. He smells like his favourite shower gel and pure masculinity. I’m melting, scorching hot, sitting by the sea in the snow.

  An hour later, we’re still by the sea, Deacon’s arm around my shoulder, as I lean into him and link my fingers with his. I don’t know what happened; we haven’t said anything since we kissed. But something’s changed, and I don’t think our friendship will be the same. All I can think about is the feel of his lips on mine, the sound of his ragged breath as he held me to him with his hands on my lower back.

  “What are you going to do when you graduate?” I ask him, braving the subject. He never seems to know what he wants to do, but I‘m wondering if he thinks we’ll have a future together.

  “I’m gonna go travelling for a while, I think. Come back and open up my own place in the city.”

  “London city?”

  “Yeah. I like it there.”

  I nod, feeling a stab of pain in my chest.

  “I don’t even need to ask you, do I?”

  “Why don’t you?” I ask, taking the force of another stab.

  “Come on, you're the biggest country bumpkin I know. My bet is you’ll be back here, and you’ll open up a bakery in the town.”

  “I don’t want to own a bakery. I want to bake cakes, that’s different. And maybe I want to do that in the city”

  He laughs a loud bellowing laugh that is so un-Deacon. I’m hurt and offended.

  “You’re no city girl, Jen.”

  There’s a long silence. Deacon is my best friend; silences are never awkward, but tonight his actions say more than words ever could. Tonight, when I need him to talk to me, he leaves us in a suffocating silence and stares out at the sea. Each crashing wave and moment of unspoken words break my heart a little more.

  Deacon has just broken our friendship for something that meant everything to me and absolutely nothing to him.

  “I need to go home.” I mutter over the raging crashing of the waves.

  “What, now?” He sounds shocked, “But we’re having fun.”

  “No.” I shake my head slowly. I just want to be home, in my bed that hasn’t changed since I was a kid, and to pretend I don’t feel torn to pieces, “You’re having fun. I’m tired, cold and I need my bed.”

  I slide off the wall and make my way back up the road to my parent’s house. I can hear Deacon catching up with me, but I don’t slow down. Until I come to an abrupt stop when I slip on some ice and fall to the floor. Deacon is at my side in an instant, helping me up, but I don’t want his hands on me.

  “Thanks.” I mumble pulling away, “You can go home now. I can see my house.”

  “I always take you to the door.”

  He sounds confused and I can't work out how he can't understand what he’s done.

  “Just go. I need you to go.”

  I walk away from him. I know he’s following me, but I don’t
look back, walking straight up my path. I open the door, close it and go straight upstairs. I see from my bedroom window that he waits outside the house, before shoving his hands in his pockets and continuing up the road to his.

  Chapter 1

  Deacon - April 2013

  “I’ve got the specs in front of me, but there’s no information on sustainability, or on the budget. I can't take on a contract and hire out subcontractors until I’ve got the full brief.”

  I squeeze the bridge of my nose. Today has been one of those days where I wish I could climb into one of the holes the boys have dug, and not come out until my shit’s together.

  “Yeah, that’s great,” I mumble to the guy on the other end of the phone. To be honest this project is more trouble than it’s worth, but someone’s got to do it, “Fax me over a draft when it’s done, and we’ll talk over lunch next week. I’ve got to go, another call.”

  I press end, and answer my mother’s call.

  “What’s up, Mum?” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder and tap at my computer.

  “Hi, darling. I’m just checking that you’re coming to the Rivera’s tonight. I need to get back to Mindy with numbers.”

  “I don’t know if I can make it, I’ve got a load of stuff to take care of here.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  Here we go.

  “Do what?”

  “Avoid your commitments. Don’t use that company to get out of things. Mindy has been like family these last five years, and she deserves your gratitude.”

  “Okay,” I sigh, and grip the back of my neck, “I’ll be there.”

  I can't see the point in going; I’ve no urge to be a part of that family any more, and there’s nothing that attracts me to that house now.

  “Super. I’ve organised a suit to be delivered to the site, so wear that.”

  “I’ve got plenty of suits.”

  “This is a nice one. No arguments. I’ve got errands to run. Be there by seven.”

  And then the line is dead. I take a deep breath. I haven’t stepped a foot in that house in over five years. I don’t think I’ll be welcome; Mindy probably just invited me because she invited Mum and Brad. Fuck. I scrape my hand through my hair, flick to today’s date in the diary, and stare at the page that I keep empty every year. Just in case.