Second Chance Hero - An Excerpt

Here is a scene from chapter 10 of Second Chance Hero that I have decided to share. Enjoy! x


“That food was incredible.” Jade says rubbing her washboard stomach.
My big sister, the oldest of the three Rivera children is gorgeous. She’s lean with subtle curves, sparkling hazel eyes and thick dark hair that frames her face and makes her olive skin glow. And she got the height I was denied; at five foot nine she looks like a Spanish supermodel. A real senorita.
            “Mmm hmm.” Grace agrees. I stopped eating halfway through, unable to stomach food after this morning, “Did you see the state of Brad’s face this morning?”
            I choke on my lemonade and Jade glares at Grace like she wishes she had a gun in her hand.
            “What happened to Brad’s face?” I ask, just above a whisper. The other Reid brother had a maimed face this morning when I saw him too.
            “Oh, I thought you knew,” Grace says. and as always I can't tell if my brother’s girlfriend is being genuine, “He and Deacon had a fight in The Duck last night. Sue had to throw them out.”
“What?!” I shriek. Deacon hadn’t been with a woman. He had a drunken fight with his big brother and I went all Queen Arsehole on him this morning. Oh god.
I put my head in my hands and Jade and Grace fall silent.
“You okay, Jen?” Jade puts her hand on my shoulder, obviously confused by my reaction.
“I went crazy, like mad-woman crazy at him on the beach today.”
Jade narrows her eyes at Grace who quickly jumps up out of her seat in response.
“Need the loo.”
“What happened?” Jade asks when she’s gone.
“I was horrid. I’m a horrible person.” I sigh, “I thought he was with one of his trait girls. I went crazy, told him I wanted him out of my life and that he was self-obsessed. He was only drinking with his brother.”
Jade bites both of her lips together and winces.
“What am I missing?”
“My answer will depend on if you’re a sucker for self-punishment.”
“Tell me.” What have I done?
She pauses, taking a huge mouthful of her drink, tension hanging in the air like an approaching storm.
“Steve went with them, Deac wanted a boys reunion. He finally wanted to go out with them again.”
“That’s good.” I nod. All okay so far.
“It was. Until brad mentioned something about you.”
“Me? What about me?”
“Steve wouldn’t give me details. He said Jonas had to walk away because he didn’t want to hear it. Whatever Brad said had Deac all riled up. And he hit him. It turned into a brawl, took Jonas, Steve and Sue to pull them apart. They were pretty drunk. Deac left and walked home, stayed at Emma’s last night. She’s freaking out about the fight but neither of them will tell her what happened.”
Grace arrives back at the table and hands me a glass of water; I bring it to my lips with trembling hands.
“Steve said-” Jade stops but I nod for her to continue, “That Deacon defended you like you were a princess.”
“Shit.”
I drop my head in my hands again, wondering what was said between two brothers to make them fight. How many relationships am I going to jeopardise?
“I have to go.” I manage, with my hand over my mouth to battle the nausea creeping into my body.
“Where are you going to go?” Grace asks.
“I have to go.”
As if she reads my mind, Jade hands me her car keys. I rush from the table, I think I manage a goodbye, before I run to Jade’s car. I jump in, pull on my seatbelt and stab the key in the ignition. I pull away as quickly as I can, thinking about nothing except my urgency to make what I did this morning right.
 
 
I pull up on the driveway, noting all three cars are here. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing he’s home but I’m petrified of the reception I’m going to receive. He didn’t follow me this morning, didn’t make me listen to another one of his explanations. Except this time he was right. And I didn’t let him explain; I tarred him with the same brush everyone else does and walked away from him. Again. When all he’d done was to defend me against a drunken comment his brother made.
I climb out of the car with shaky legs, with butterflies stampeding in my stomach and make my way to his house. I knock on the door and wait... I knock again and wait...
I push the door and it opens slowly. It’s silent inside, maybe he’s sleeping. He must be in pain from the state of that bruise on his face his morning; maybe he’s got a headache and he’s gone to sleep it off.
I find myself walking to the staircase, but I veer off towards the French doors when I hear a rhythmic pounding coming from the garden. I stop at the threshold.
Deacon is outside, flipping a tyre that looks like it’s from a monster truck over and over. He’s wearing black boxing shorts that stop below his knee and a white vest. I lean against the door and knot my fingers together as I watch him. Bend, lift, drop. Bend, lift, drop. It’s mesmerising listening to the rhythm, watching his back muscles straining against the vest and his calves so tight they show no signs of struggling with his exercise.
When he reaches the barn at the end of the garden, he stands up and wipes the sweat from his head with a wristband. There’s something so sexy about that band around his arm, that my stomach quivers and I gasp and reach for my throat. My eyes follow him as he walks over unfazed by his last activity, to a tree with a punch bag hanging from it. He stands beneath a branch and jumps to grab hold of it, his body hanging in mid air. What’s that f-
Oh. He crosses his feet at the ankles, bends his knees and pulls his body up to the branch. One, two, three... After twenty, I’m beginning to get tired. My pulse is racing, I’m breathless, my hands are sweating and my insides are quivering. And I’m not the one doing the gruesome exercise. I lose count watching his muscles contract and release, his stomach tightening with every pull. I’ve never seen anything so painfully erotic in my life. The sweat is pouring from him from the burning heat of the sun  and Deacon’s face is taut, the only part of his body showing the effects of his relentless discipline.
He stops and so does my heart as he swings his legs up and curls them over the branch, falling back and reaching for the floor. I watch him again, as he pulls his body up to his legs; the sounds of his deep inhales and exhales the only sound above the birds and the sea in the distance. He slowly lowers himself off the tree after thirty of those crunch things and pulls his vest off, wiping the sweat from his head. He still has his back to me and my eyes trace every muscle, defined and breathtaking.
“Did you want something?” He calls and my heart leaps. He knows I’m here?
I step out on to the patio and shield my eyes from the sun as Deacon pulls on a pair of black boxing gloves and goes to town on his punching bag. I’m half tempted to stop if he has that much rage to get out.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t spying, I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“What do you want?” He grunts between fast punches.
“Can you stop?” I step closer to him and he slows, breathing out loud hisses every time his fists connect with the bag, “I want to talk.”
He slows again, but says nothing. And he doesn’t stop.
“I know you weren’t with anyone last night. I’m sorry for what I said. I was out of line and I’m sorry.”
He stops and turns to me, his breathing heavy and his fists clenched so tight they’re shaking.
“You believed it when you said it. Whether it was last night you were talking about or every other time, you meant it.”
“Because I thought what you said to me on Friday was a lie. I made an assumption and it was wrong. I’m sorry.”
He takes me by surprise when he presses the gloves to my stomach and pushes me against the tree.
My breath escapes in a rush as my back hits the trunk.