Page 29 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

The bell jingled weakly behind him.

Silence fell.

Jessa dropped back into the booth, every muscle suddenly exhausted. Deacon eased in across from her. For a long beat, neither of them spoke. The diner buzzed softly around them—coffee pots, murmured conversations, the low clink of plates—but it all felt far away.

Deacon finally broke the silence. “I’m not going to ask if you’re all right.” He paused, his expression softening. “You’re not. You just found out your mom was murdered. No one is all right after that.”

Her throat tightened. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not all right.” She swallowed, the words trembling loose. “I’m shaken to the bone, Deacon. I don’t even… I can’t wrap my head around any of this.”

His eyes softened in that way she remembered, quiet, steady, patient, as if he was offering her a place to land without demanding she use it. He didn’t reach for her. He didn’t push. He just stayed there, grounding her with his presence.

And for the first time since Roman said murder, Jessa felt the faintest flicker of breath return to her lungs.

The weight in her chest finally buckled, and Jessa dropped her face into her hands with a low groan. The kind that carried too many years of secrets and the fresh sting of grief.

Across from her, Deacon shifted forward, elbows braced on the table. “Jess,” he said carefully, “why not just tell Noah everything?”

She lifted her head, eyes burning. “Because I can’t. Not right now.”

“Why not?”

She let out a shaky breath, fingers trembling where they pressed against her temples. “Because if I tell him… I’ll have to deal with everything that comes with it. The emotions. The questions. The judgment.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I’ll have to defend my mother. And I can’t do that. Not tonight. Not when I just found out she was murdered.”

Deacon didn’t argue. He watched her with that steady, quiet patience that always made her feel simultaneously seen and exposed.

“Jess,” he tried again, gentler, “Noah was a kid when all this happened. They both were. He’ll understand she was scared. Alone. Making impossible choices.”

“Maybe,” she whispered. “Maybe he will. But maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll hate her for it. And I’m not strong enough right now to listen to anyone condemn her. Not even him.”

Her hands curled into fists on the table.

“And there’s more,” she forced out. “Lauren’s parents. If Noah knows, if the truth about my birth gets out? They could be hurt, Deacon. This could destroy them. I won’t be the reason they go through that.”

Deacon exhaled slowly, as if he understood more than she expected. “So you’re protecting them.”

Jessa nodded, eyes stinging.

“And you’re protecting your mom’s memory,” he added.

A tear escaped despite her attempt to blink it away. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I am.”

Because even in death and even with secrets that had broken both of them, Lauren was still her mother. And Jessa wasn’t ready to let the world tear her apart all over again.

Deacon checked his watch, then the nearly empty diner, then her, lingering a second too long, as if he was gauging how close she was to breaking.

“We should get out of here,” he said quietly. “Come to my place.”

A flicker of heat ran through her before she could stop it. Not desire exactly—no, that wasn’t true. It was desire, but twined with exhaustion, grief, and a thousand unresolved things between them. Deacon must’ve seen something in her face because he cleared his throat, attempting an easy smile.

“Just to regroup,” he added. “You look like you’re about two minutes from collapsing. And I’m… well, stitched together with stubbornness, not good sense.”

She snorted despite herself. “You don’t want to stick around and hear what Shade pukes out to Sheriff Chase?”

Deacon shook his head. “Arden’ll send me the report. And trust me, Shade will be more honest with her than with me hovering over him.”

Jessa wasn’t convinced about the honesty part, but she nodded. Deacon pushed slowly to his feet, wincing as he braced himself on the table. She stood too, shoulder nearly brushing his chest, and he reached out as if to steady her, then seemed to rethink it and dropped his hand.

The space between them vibrated with unsaid things.