in her chest was too much to bear.
Tears gushed, hot and stinging, until Ellie had difficulty breathing. This couldn’t be happening. Even a year after the fact, she had a tough time believing her husband was really gone. The anniversary had dredged up too many painful memories. Of all their plans—not just for raising Pia, but projects for their home… Near the back picket fence, the one Tom had trained sweet pea vines to trail along, they’d talked about putting in a water garden. Ellie had wanted a trickling fountain. He’d wanted a train set that he could run with his angel, Pia.
Pia.
Such a huge burden her sweet baby unwittingly carried.
Tears started flowing again and Ellie upended the wine bottle, guzzling to find temporary relief where there was none. She dropped the bottle to the wood decking, and rolled onto her side, drawing her knees to her chest. She needed her husband so badly. With Tom gone, she didn’t begin to know what to do. He’d completed her, and ever since his passing she’d felt empty and raw.
The French door opened and shut, startling Ellie. She glanced in that direction, only to have her heart sink. “What are you doing here?”
Deacon, still wearing the khakis and polo shirt he’d donned for the party, shrugged. “Wish I knew.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Wishing for that, too, but…”
As much as she’d wanted to once and for all tell him everything, Ellie wasn’t capable of dealing with him now. Not after the day she’d had.
“I was on the beach, thinking about all the shores I’ve been on with Tom, and somehow I ended up here.” Hands in his pockets, Deacon shook his head. “I needed to be with someone who loved him like I do—did. Whatever. Tom was the greatest man I’ve ever known, and for the life of me, I can’t figure why the big guy had him take that bullet instead of me. Literally six inches to the right and this would’ve all played out different. You’d be sitting here with him, shooting the breeze about me, and—”
“Stop,” she begged, folding her arms tight. “You might’ve been with him when he died, but I was with him when he lived. I’d give anything if I could take back the night you and I shared. Most especially, I’d pray for Tom to be Pia’s father instead of—” Clapping her hands to her mouth, she was thankful she’d stopped herself from confessing the secret she’d planned on delivering in a much saner way.
Deacon’s dark eyes narrowed, his expression dangerous in the flickering light of a citronella candle. Ellie knew that, with a man as sharp as he was, she had already revealed too much.
“What are you saying?” he asked. “Tom wasn’t Pia’s dad?”
“Let it go, okay? We’ll talk about it later.” After grabbing the tipped wine bottle from the deck, Ellie stood, intending to go inside. She’d wanted to have this conversation earlier. The coward in her that had waited a whole year thought there’d be safety in revealing the truth in a more controlled setting.
“Then what did you mean?” He took her by her arm, spinning her to face him.
“Let me go,” she said from between clenched teeth, struggling like a caged animal against the grip of a man who’d once given her the kind of hot, crazy, taboo sex she hadn’t known existed outside of fiction. On that night, she might’ve been dazed with need for Deacon, but not now. Now, she knew him for the bad-boy, full-on disaster he was.
“Not until you come clean with me. She’s mine, isn’t she?” Releasing Ellie to run his hands over his face, he leaned against the deck rail.
She nodded.
“Wow…” He took the two steps down from the deck to pace the yard. “And Tom never knew?”
Hugging herself, tears falling in cold trails down her cheeks, Ellie shook her head.
“And that’s what you wanted to tell me today? In front of everyone we know?” The look he cast her was indecipherable.
“If you don’t mind,” she replied, adopting an all-business tone, “I’d like to keep this between us. Helen and John will always be Pia’s grandparents, but more and more, I’m seeing she needs a father. It’s not fair for me to keep this from either of you.”
Deacon sharply exhaled.
Arms crossed, he faced the sliver of glittering Atlantic visible from the yard. The view had been one of the things she and Tom loved most about the house.
What was Deacon thinking? Was he angry at her for not having told him sooner? She felt sick at how she’d handled everything.
“I owe you a massive apology,” Ellie said, her voice small in the chilly breeze. “But from the second Tom learned I was pregnant, he was so happy. I couldn’t take that from him—from myself. You know what kind of family I grew up in. I never wanted the same for my own child.”
A sharp laugh escaped Deacon. “You’re saying the right things, but all of a sudden, I don’t even know you.” Striding purposefully, he returned to the deck, only to open one of the French doors. Was he going to look in on his daughter?
“Please don’t wake her.” Ellie trailed behind him. “Pia’s exhausted from playing. She needs her rest.”
The dark look Deacon cast over his shoulder stoked the firestorm in Ellie’s stomach. “You drop this bomb on me, then not five minutes later have the nerve to dictate my every move?”
Chin raised, she said, “Forget everything you just heard. As far as I’m concerned, Pia’s true father is dead.”
Chapter Two
Deacon pushed his Harley to one-ten on his favorite lonely stretch of Shore Road before being forced to back down because of a tottering raccoon. Killing the engine, he climbed off, rolling his ride to the shoulder before dropping the kickstand to asphalt. At 3:00 A.M., he was pretty well guaranteed privacy until base commuters started pouring in.
After dropping his helmet to the seat, he ignored the burning behind his eyes and mounted the small dune standing between him and the angry Atlantic. What had been a soft breeze in town was now a wind whipping sand against his cheeks. Deacon liked it. Liked the pain.
One year ago today, it should’ve been him taking that bullet.
Aside from his SEAL team, he had no one in his life. His folks had long since written him off, and he couldn’t say he blamed them.
Not bothering to remove his clothes or even his shoes, Deacon trudged into the surf, fighting his way out to black water, where the swells held him as surely as a lover. He generally saved this sort of thing for missions or triathalon training, but after tonight’s chaos he needed the comfort found in the familiar. Out here, he knew where he stood. He’d been trained to handle any contingency with either sheer strength of will or ingenuity. What he wasn’t equipped to deal with were his emotions.
What the hell was he supposed to do with this ache in his chest, making it so tight he feared it would explode? How did he look past images of his best friend dying in his arms, asking him to care for Ellie and his baby girl? Deacon had promised Tom he would, and he had, but he doubted his friend would have asked
