Page 16 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Jessa’s breath hitched, barely, but he caught it. She looked past him, toward the waiting room chairs, the scuffed tile floor, anywhere that wasn’t his face. Her throat worked in a swallow.

“One of the secrets Wynn is peddling…” she began, voice so low he had to lean in to catch it, “is the reason for the rift that happened between my mother and me.” She finally looked at him. “And that secret is I’m Noah Riggs’ biological daughter.”

Chapter Four

For a long suspended second, Deacon just stared at Jessa as if the words she’d spoken couldn’t possibly exist in the same universe they were standing in.

“I’m Noah Riggs’ biological daughter,” she repeated.

He looked as if someone had hit him with a two-by-four. His mouth parted. His eyes narrowed, then widened, then narrowed again, and he was obviously trying to force the pieces into some shape that made sense.

“This isn’t a joke… is it?” he finally managed to say.

Jessa closed her eyes. God, how she wished. She wished harder than she had wished for anything since Lauren died. “No,” she whispered. “It’s not a joke.”

A groan slipped out before she could swallow it down. Every time she said it, even in her head, it dragged a raw edge across wounds that hadn’t even begun to close.

Noah Riggs is my father.

She forced herself to meet Deacon’s eyes. “I’m still having a hard time accepting it,” she admitted, her voice cracking despite her best efforts.

He didn’t speak. His expression softened, just a fraction, but the shock stayed.

“I grew up believing Lauren rescued me,” Jessa whispered. “That she stepped in when no one else would. That she chose me. That everything she did was out of love.”

Her throat closed up hard. She swallowed through it.

“And instead… she was lying to me.” Her voice broke again, thinner this time. “For my entire life.”

Deacon’s brow furrowed, pain flickering across his features, not for himself, but for her. She hated how much she felt that look. Hated how old emotions surged under her ribs.

“My whole life,” she murmured. “Everything I knew… everything she told me…” She shook her head, voice trembling. “None of it was real.”

She didn’t realize she was shaking until Deacon reached out—hesitant, hovering—as if he wanted to steady her but wasn’t sure she’d let him. Truth was… she wasn’t sure either.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Sit down.”

Before she could protest, he guided her to one of the plastic chairs along the wall. The touch was steady, grounding… maddening. She sank into the seat because her knees weren’t giving her much choice.

Deacon crouched in front of her, ignoring whatever pain it caused his stitched-up side and arm. “Tell me everything,” he said. Not harsh. Not commanding. Just… resolute.

Jessa drew a sharp breath. Then another. She pressed her palms to her thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of her jeans to keep them from shaking.

“Shortly before she died,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “Lauren told me the truth. She said she wasn’t just my adoptive mother, that she was my biological mother too. She was nineteen, scared, alone… and she’d gotten pregnant.”

Deacon’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t interrupt.

“And Noah Riggs,” she forced out, “was the father.”

Silence dropped like a stone between them. Deacon leaned back just enough to study her face, as if trying to gauge how much of this was breaking her from the inside out.

“Does Noah know?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I’m sure he doesn’t. Lauren never told him.” Jessa looked away, her gaze landing on the scuffed tile floor. “She never told anyone before that day. Not Roman. Not me. Not Noah.” Her throat tightened again. “She carried my whole life in a lie.”

Saying it still hurt, every single time.

And Deacon, crouched in front of her with worry etched into his face, was witnessing every cracked edge she couldn’t hide.