Letting You Know Read online

  Letting You Know

  -Book 2 of the Letting You In Series-

  Nora Flite

  Copyright © 2013 Nora Flite

  All rights reserved.

  Letting You Know is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Book design by Nora Flite

  Cover design by Nora Flite

  Cover Image © Nora Flite

  -DEDICATION-

  To those of you that have been in my shoes, that have written with the hope of relating to others... to forming a connection, and having it mean something.

  This book is for you.

  Thank you, everyone.

  -Nora

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1.

  Chapter 2.

  Chapter 3.

  Chapter 4.

  Chapter 5.

  Chapter 6.

  Chapter 7.

  Chapter 8.

  Chapter 9.

  Chapter 10.

  Chapter 11.

  Chapter 12.

  Chapter 13.

  Chapter 14.

  Chapter 15.

  Chapter 16.

  Chapter 17.

  Chapter 18.

  Chapter 19.

  Chapter 20.

  Chapter 21.

  Chapter 22.

  -Deacon's Epilogue-

  -Part 1-

  Deacon Day

  Pulled one way, then the next, my entire world crashed together in a sudden explosion.

  The steering wheel was cold in my hands; my brain jumbled and full of cotton. Nothing would stop moving. The world was a jittery picture of blackness I was viewing from too far away.

  Distantly, my ears rang. Bells were screeching with warning.

  What happened? Where was I?

  There was a truck, that's right, then...

  I tried to focus. My muscles screamed. When I scrunched my eyebrows, my body shifted.

  Something was touching me—no—grabbing at me in desperation. I wanted to look. That was when I realized my eyes weren't even open.

  Numb with blood, clarity returned to me agonizingly slow. I forced my eyelashes up, away. The green lights of the dashboard winked at me. It was still catastrophically dark, even with my eyes open.

  Finally, I saw her, tears and all.

  Leah! Why is she crying?

  Her fingers dug into my arms, forcing me to release the wheel I'd been death-gripping. Her lips, stained with salty water, moved again and again.

  She's talking. Why can't I hear her?

  Concentrating as hard as I could, I made out her words finally beginning to surface through the deafness. They were muffled, but to me, they were hot; clear as day.

  “Deacon, please, don't die!”

  That was when I felt the pain.

  Chapter 1.

  One Week Earlier

  The longer we drove, the harder it was for me to keep from staring out the window. Brown freeways had shifted into the waving, stretching fields I was all too familiar with while growing up.

  It hasn't changed a bit, I realized. My nostalgia tinged with a slight discomfort. Nothing really changes out here, I guess.

  Shifting in my seat, I tossed a glance at my mother. She looked the way she always had to me, that amazing inability to age that parents displayed. No matter how many years passed, my mother would still remain in that bubble of 'just older than me' that fit her so well.

  Fine lines were edging in at the corners of her temples, but the cores of her hazel eyes were still bright as new grass. They were fixed straight ahead as she steered effortlessly along the flat terrain. The roads here didn't curve much, they were predictable.

  Just like the people who live here.

  “You okay back there?” I asked, twisting enough to catch the eye of the young woman in the back seat. Leah was bundled up in a burgundy jacket, red scarf and matching gloves; things I had insisted she buy when she got some of her first money from selling her art.

  She looked as cold as could be.

  You'd think, for a girl from New England, she'd be used to this sort of weather. The car isn't even chilly with Mom blasting that heat.

  Her eyes were like wet chocolate, expressing her anxiousness, though I knew she wouldn't speak a word about it with my mother so close. “Yeah, sorry, just a little tired.”

  “Flying will do that to you,” my mother said, never taking her gaze from the distant fields. “We'll be there soon, then you both can get something to eat and relax. Ya'll must be hungry.”

  “We're fine, Mom.” I chuckled, spotting a glimpse of Leah's forced smile. I wondered if I could really speak for both of us.

  Ever since we'd arrived in the airport, she'd seemed a little strange, but it was hard to place my finger on it. To be fair, she had many reasons to be acting oddly. None of them were things I could blame her for.

  Recalling how we had sat together weeks ago, the police surrounding her in the hospital bed, cameras flashing to take evidence... The memory made my belly seize, a hot sickness that caused me to squeeze my thigh.

  She'd told them everything about her ex, Owen. How he'd stalked her across the country, and how things had quickly escalated from angry words... to brutal fists.

  In front of them all, she'd relived the terrible experience once more. Watching her as she did, pale but determined, I'd admired her strength.

  I just wish I could have prevented her from going through any of that in the first place.

  The saving grace was, at least, that Leah wouldn't have to endure a court appearance. The authorities had enough to press charges, and with Owen in jail until his sentencing date and a restraining order, I was sure we'd never see him again.

  Looking into the passenger mirror, peering at Leah's somber face, I hoped she'd forget it all as well. Seeing the faded cut on her lip, knowing her scarf hid the yellow shaded skin of her throat where he had choked her, it felt childish to pretend it could be so easy.

  She saw me watching, those perfect lips making a real, true smile. Carefully, she slid a hand through the crack where my seat nearly met the passenger door. Wordless, my fingers wrapped around hers in an attempt to give her comfort.

  Every time I saw her like that, so fragile, as if a breeze could knock her down, I wanted to wrap her in my arms more than anything else.

  Relax, she's tougher than you seem to remember. She's been through so much, I'm sure once she gets some sleep and some food, she'll relax around the family.

  “You know,” my mom prattled on, unable to sit in the silence, “your brother is supposed to arrive tomorrow, he's driving up from Virginia.”

  “Brother?” Leah asked, her hand going slack in mine. Flinching, I held it tighter, brushing the inside of her palm.

  My mother didn't look at me, but I could almost imagine the gears turning in her head. “Yes, you didn't know Deacon had a younger brother, dear?”

  “No, uh, he didn't mention that.”

  “It just didn't come up,” I said, wondering why my neck felt so warm. Had I really not mentioned that? “He's—”

  “Nicholas,” my mom cut me off, “he's in his second year of pre-med.”

  “Oh,” Leah mumbled, catching my eye in the mirror. “That's amazing, he wants to be a doctor?”

  My stomach was already twisting, but I kept my voice calm, looking at my mother. Her profile was relaxed, I knew her well enough to understand there was a struggle here between being proud, and being frustrated. She didn't care that I didn't go to medical school, but she's happy Nicholas did. It's okay to be proud of him, Mom.

  Still, I wouldn't say
that. Not then, anyway. Swallowing my pride, I joked instead. “He's growing up fast. Soon he'll be old enough to drink.”

  “Well,” my mom said, turning down a gravel section of road. Around us, the fields seemed to grow taller. The grain silos looked like robotic sentinels in the distance. “Let's hope that isn't what's on his mind. I'm sure he's stressed enough as is. Your father expects a lot out of him.”

  “Dad expects a lot out of everyone,” I replied, unable to tamp down my bitterness. As expected, my mother didn't acknowledge my comment. Ever the proper southern woman.

  Leah's hand tugged free of mine, but before I could even be disappointed, she'd begun trailing her touch gently up my forearm.

  I want to just be alone with her, to explain that I wasn't hiding anything. The last thing I want to do is make her feel like I'm not being honest.

  “Here we are,” my mom crooned, making us all look up as we climbed the steep driveway. There, like everything in that chunk of forgotten history, was the house I had grown up in. Two floors, a giant yard, and a garage stuffed with a few expensive cars for my father's opulent taste.

  “You live in a mansion,” Leah breathed, her palm gripping me painfully.

  Smiling, my shoulders hunched in a flash of embarrassment. “Sort of. My dad has always had a certain taste.”

  “Hush,” my mom chided me, though I suspected she agreed. “Come on, then.” She said, cutting the engine. “Let's get you both inside where it's warm.”

  “Yeah,” Leah answered, pulling away from me, slipping from the vehicle. “I'd like that.”

  For a moment, I sat there, staring up at the reaching shingles, the glowing windows of the huge house. It felt strange to be there, I wasn't able to put my finger on why.

  I'm home, aren't I? Shouldn't I be excited?

  The truth was, I felt nervous about facing those walls again. I'd grown up here, had so many memories, yet after so much time...

  It still made me feel so small.

  Stop. You're not a kid anymore. You have control now. Remember that.

  ****

  Inside, the aroma of onions and garlic hit me, my stomach rumbling instantly. Before I could even step into the kitchen, a trio of small, furry dogs slammed into me.

  “Whoa! Hey,” I laughed, shoving their slobbering muzzles away, barely keeping on my feet. “Easy girls! Down! Come on.”

  Ginger, Misty and Suzie; corgis my father had brought home when I was only fifteen. Gifts for my brother and I, though at the time, I remembered being let down that he hadn't gotten us guitars instead.

  “Are they friendly?” Leah asked, standing behind me, her voice agitated.

  Turning, my fingers rubbed across the dogs' heads, making them sit reluctantly. “Yeah, too friendly sometimes, I think.”

  “Can I pet them?”

  Blinking, I realized she wasn't nervous, but excited. “Of course, they'd love that.”

  Hesitantly, Leah moved forward, scratching her nails across Ginger's neck. The other dogs noticed immediately, and scrambled forward to get some attention of their own. Leah grinned, and it sent a spark to my chest. Soon, all three dogs were on their backs at her feet, rolling and wriggling while she rubbed their bellies.

  Look at her go, she must really love dogs! Her eyes found mine, twinkling with delight, cheeks flushed in a way I suspect was not due to the winter weather outside.

  “I see the girls have made a new friend,” a voice said behind me, deep and smooth all at once. Turning, I saw my father standing there, looking exactly as he always had. Not quite the same. He looks more tired, maybe?

  He yanked me in for a hug a little too roughly. “Good to see you, son,” he chuckled.

  “Hey dad,” I said, giving him a squeeze. “It's been a while.”

  “Not so long, you've got your own things going on. California is a long trip, we understand.” The tone he used was overtly pleasant, green eyes flicking from me to Leah and back again.

  Taking the hint, I backed off, waving the dogs away as they tried to jump on my girlfriend when she stopped petting them. “Dad, this is Leah Rook, the girl I told you about.”

  The girl I told you about in one brief phone call the day after I had already bought plane tickets, so there was no way to back out. Did you handle that surprise as well as you acted, I wonder?

  Leah stepped closer, offering a hand and an unsure smile. “It's nice to meet you, Mr. Day.”

  “Dr. Day,” he corrected. “But you can call me Dylan.” He didn't take her hand, instead pulling her in for a quick embrace. I heard her startled laugh; watched her hands fiddling with the ends of her scarf when he pulled away, holding her shoulders. “We hug around here. Call me old fashioned.”

  He was oozing charisma, to the point I almost rolled my eyes. Bedside manner in full effect. Perhaps I was being too harsh, but I knew my father. This proper, polite air he was putting on was purely for show. It was aimed at me, to prove just how 'charitable' he was being to the new lady in my life.

  “I thought you said to call you Dylan,” she mumbled, looking to the side bashfully. “But I guess I can call you Old Fashioned.”

  My dad blinked, then gave a deep, belly of a laugh. “Clever! I like that. Hon, you can call me whatever you want.”

  Forcing my smile on, I stepped forward, gently pulling Leah away from him. “Careful now, you don't need to win her over that badly, Dad.”

  I could hear Leah's uncomfortable giggle, but my eyes were fixed on my father, weighing the moment quietly. He had to understand, I wasn't stupid. I knew for a fact he was still deciding if he would approve of Leah or not.

  He would want to know far more about her before he would even chance giving a real stamp of approval.

  I won't let him find anything out, though. That's not what she needs, people prying into her life.

  I want her to like my family, and I'll do what I can to make sure they like her, too.

  If I had dwelt on that longer, maybe I would have understood the odd rush of guilt that tugged inside my belly. Instead, playing the silent game of stand-off with my father, I never got there.

  “Honey,” I heard my mother say, her thin form wandering into the room. “Did you turn the chicken? It should be done, I think the kids would appreciate something hot to eat.”

  The moment broke. My dad stood straight, thumbs hooking into his belt as he looked away from me. “'Course I did, Jenna. Let's get them fed, then.” Together they strolled out of the alcove, leaving Leah and myself alone. The dogs followed them, anticipating the possibility of tasty scraps.

  “You hungry?” I asked her, glad for the first moment we'd had alone since the flight. She was close to me, almost standing against my chest. Easily, her hands found their way around my waist, until she had me wrapped up tightly. My chin propped on her head, the clean scent of her silky hair filling my senses.

  “Sort of. I need to ask you something, though.”

  “Oh, uh, go ahead,” I said quietly, peering down into her nervous face.

  Leah bit the side of her lip, clearly fighting to figure out a way to ask what was on her mind. “Why didn't you ever tell me that you... you know, that you had a brother?”

  Flinching, I let her go and put a small gap between us. “It wasn't intentional, not telling you. I honestly sort of... it just didn't come up naturally.”

  I couldn't be sure I'd convinced her, especially with how she was studying my face so intently. “It's okay, I'm not angry about it. I just—I hate the idea of your mom thinking we aren't close enough for me to know those things.” Her laugh was weak, false. “It was sort of embarrassing in the car when it came up, I guess.”

  Firmly, I hugged her to me and planted a brief kiss to her forehead. When I pulled back, her eyes glimmered with something else. It was intoxicating, how easily she could warm up to me and our physical touch.

  “I'm honestly sorry, Leah. I promise I won't let anything like that happen again. Do you want to know all about the rest of my family? It'
s a lot of people,” I warned her, exaggerating my intensity. “It could take hours, but I'll gladly describe them all to you in detail.”

  Her laugh, then, was a real one. Pushing me lightly, she stepped back and rolled her eyes. “No no, it's fine, really.”

  “You're sure?” I teased, lifting an eyebrow. “You don't want to know about my second cousin Frank and his amazing ability to eat—”

  “No!” She stopped me, shaking her head rapidly. “Shh, no, it's fine.”

  We stood together, enjoying a moment where the tension wasn't so heavy. Her tempting lips made a sudden frown. “So... there really was no reason he didn't come up? None?”

  “No,” I said, wondering why I felt a flicker of shame, of irritation. What does she mean? Of course there's no reason... why would I avoid mentioning Nicholas?

  We walked towards the kitchen, but my mind was elsewhere. Something was bothering me. Was it possible I had subconsciously avoided talking about my younger brother?

  It was as if I had absently chosen to wipe him from my life, and hadn't ever wondered why.

  ****

  We sat around the table in the kitchen, great heaps of chicken and creamed corn on our plates. My parents made idle chatter between chewing, I joined in where needed.

  “Leah, sweety,” my mother mused, looking her over where she sat beside me, “are you cold?”

  “Oh, uh, no,” she blurted, glancing at me curiously. “I'm fine.”

  “Then, how about you take off that jacket and scarf?”

  A cold sweat prickled down my back, knuckles going white around the fork I held. Watching Leah, how she sat so straight, unmoving, I had no doubt what was going through her mind.

  She's wondering what they'll say about the bruises on her neck. They had to have seen the scar on her lip, light as it is. I should have just told them what happened, but...