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Their coffees had since been finished, and the radio was on low. The silence was comfortable, and Jessa enjoyed looking out the windshield and staring at the frozen lake.
Large pine trees surrounded the lake in a crescent shape, their green branches dusted white from Mother Nature. She knew Deacon wanted to talk to her, but she wouldn’t push him.
“We moved to Steal South about seven years ago.”
Her heart hammered in her chest as he started talking. She didn’t know what he would say, but she knew it couldn’t be good.
The seriousness in his voice when he said they needed to speak had her conjuring up all kinds of horrible scenarios. Maybe he was married, or had children?
Maybe he ran from the law? If so they were more alike than she could have ever imagined.
“We used to live in Alaska, in Anchorage. It was Thayer and I and our parents. Growing up was pretty hard. My father had been a military man, and so he brought his rigid rules home with him. Our father had a wicked anger problem. He always seemed to find the bad in everything and everyone. Being the oldest, I took the brunt of his wrath.”
Silence filled the cab of the truck for several long minutes. Jessa didn’t want to say anything and risk Deacon closing up on her.
“I’m glad he hit me and not Thayer.” Her breath hitched at his softly spoken words. “I asked him one time, when I was older, why he did what he did to me. His response was that a male of worth could take pain and turn it to strength.” He grimaced before continuing. “Thayer was always the smart one, the male that could solve any problem and fix the outcome. Maybe that was why our father went easy on him, because he didn’t see him as strong.”
“I’m so sorry, Deacon.” She reached out and twined her fingers through his. “Wasn’t your mom there? Couldn’t she help you? Stand up to your father?” His hand tightened on hers before he spoke again. “My mother acted like a lot of females in our … group.”
The way he spoke of women, calling them female seemed a bit strange, but she assumed it must be the way they spoke where he came from.
“She was docile and submissive. My father kept her under his thumb, dictating her life the way he did ours.” He turned and looked at her, and it was the first time she saw the blistered look of defeat cross his face. “He would lock me in the closet to ‘toughen me up.’ He would beat me until my back bled to rid me of weakness. There were times he tried to go after Thayer, but I begged him to beat me instead. I would instigate problems so his focus wouldn’t go to Thayer. I wanted his wrath directed solely on me.”
Pain lanced through her at hearing his story. How could any parent hurt their own child? And how could a mother sit back and watch it happen? She wanted to pull him into her and wrap her arms around his big body.
Jessa wanted to tell him everything would be okay, that he wasn’t weak or scarred. Although all of those things were on the tip of her tongue, nothing came out.
Deacon was a strong man physically. Now that he explained what happened, about his traumatic childhood, she could slowly understand why he acted the way he did.
The roughness during sex, the animalistic way he held himself. She had just met him. But those things had been clear as day. It made sense now, especially with his destroyed childhood.
He had been forced to grow up in the most brutal and painful of ways.
“God, Deacon.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but instead of her comforting Deacon, he pulled her into his chest and murmured into her hair. “What happened to your parents?” She wanted to cause pain to his father, the same kind he had dealt a young Deacon.
“Thayer left home right after high school. He went to college and made something of himself. He didn’t know about the abuse, but even if he did, there wasn’t anything he could have done. Our father was a large man and incredibly strong given his age.”
He inhaled deeply against her hair.
“The year I turned twenty-five is the year they died in a car accident. The abuse had ended well before then. I was larger than my father, and when he tried to lay a hand on me I made it clear he would never do it again. I was finished with him. That was the last conversation I had with him before he died.”
Deacon moved his hands methodically over her back in a soothing manner.
“I can’t even tell you the relief I felt when I got the news he died. But with that relief came the guilt. Despite the abuse from my father and the ignorance from my mother, I felt the desolation that had woven its way into my life seem to dwindle. It was still there, but I thought maybe I could beat it.”
“Deacon—”
“Let me finish, baby.” She lifted her head, and he cupped her face, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. “I can be uncontrollable at the best of times. I’m filled with a lot of rage, and most days it’s hard for me to deal with it. That’s why I built the cabin away from others. If I didn’t have Thayer here to ground me, to keep me stable…”
His thumbs brushed along her cheekbones, his gaze steady as he spoke.
“I’d go crazy.” He brushed his lips against hers. “I would never hurt you, though. Ever.” He said it with steely determination.
She didn’t doubt his words for one minute.
“Since you came into my life I’ve felt calmness settle into my body, my soul.” His lips met hers in a heart-wrenching kiss. “I want you. Thayer wants you.” His gaze penetrated hers. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
She thought she did, but she shook her head instead.
