“Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” I said as I sat across from him.
“I’m sorry if I pushed things by asking for this meeting sooner rather than later. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”
“It’s probably better that you pushed it, because I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”
He nodded. “I know.” He pointed toward the counter and stood. “Let me get your usual.”
My stomach growled as he walked to the register, not from hunger but from nerves.
He returned and handed me my drink. “Here you go. One pump, just how you like it.”
I looked down at his name in black marker on the side of the cup, then back up at him.
When our eyes locked, he grinned slightly. My instinct was to smile back, but I wouldn’t let myself.
“Thank you for the coffee.”
“Of course.”
Deacon’s demeanor was a bit different from the last time I’d seen him right after he returned. His eye contact was more direct; he seemed determined to get through to me today.
He cleared his throat. “I know we don’t have an infinite amount of time, so I’m just gonna start.”
Staying silent, I took a sip of my drink.
“First off, I’ll never be able to apologize enough for the way I freaked out after our accident. Leaving the way I did was not the answer. It felt like I was doing you a favor at the time, but I see things much differently now.” He let out a long exhale. “The accident… It brought back some difficult memories for me, and I didn’t handle it well.” He shut his eyes. “There was something I hadn’t told you, and that omission was part of why my reaction probably didn’t make sense to you.”
My heart sank. I’d always suspected there was something he hadn’t said.
He took a deep breath. “When the accident happened back in college, my girlfriend at the time, Becca, was injured, too. She was ultimately okay—I told you that before. But…I didn’t tell you she was pregnant.” He swallowed.
I felt my eyes widen.
“She was four months along, and the impact of the crash was too much. She lost the baby.”
Sadness rushed through my body. “I’m sorry. So sorry, Deacon.”
He nodded and stared down at his cup. “So while the loss of my football career was devastating, it was compounded by knowing I hadn’t been able to stop the accident that killed my unborn child. It was so much more than football. And I’m sorry for never telling you that part. I was very ashamed.”
I reached across the table for his hand. He looped his fingers with mine.
“After the accident—understandably—Becca became depressed. Between that and my own depression, our relationship couldn’t survive. We were so young to begin with.” He squeezed my hand. “Anyway, we broke up, and soon after, I moved away to go to college out of state. And that was it.”
He would’ve had a child around ten years old now. I let go of his hand. Touching him felt too intense at the moment.
Deacon ran his fingers through his hair. “I ran away from everything back then, Carys. I hadn’t dealt with any of it until recently. It wasn’t until I met you that I started allowing myself to even reflect on those days.” He began to shred a napkin. “But then our accident, coming home from the farm…” He shut his eyes tightly for a moment. “It threw me back to that place I’d been a decade ago. I couldn’t protect the two people I cared about most in this world—it scared the fuck out of me. And I panicked, overcome by the fear that I was destined to hurt the people I love.”
I looked away. “Well, that certainly explains things a little more, but I don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me this then, why we couldn’t have worked it out together.”
He nodded silently. “I don’t fully have the answer to why I reacted the way I did, why I couldn’t sit down and tell you the story like I am now. I felt ashamed and a little shell-shocked, and I think running is my pattern. That’s how I handled the first accident, and my impulse was to do the same again. I know that was terrible, but I’ve realized that all this time, I hadn’t dealt with anything that happened back in college. I’d only buried it. It took being back in Minnesota, facing the people I believed I’d disappointed so badly, to start that process. Unfortunately, I also hurt and disappointed you.”
“What happened in Minnesota?”
“A lot happened. I don’t have to tell you about it all now, but—”
“Tell me,” I interrupted. “We’re here now. Tell me everything.”
Deacon went on to recount his father’s cancer diagnosis and how he’d connected again with his dad and his entire family. But I was most surprised by what he saved for last.