Just a Taste (Private Relations 1)

Sniffling again, Sara nodded, then moved back to the bedroom to get her suitcase. Wheeling it out, she said good-bye to Smitty, then they walked outside to Deacon’s car. He slung her suitcase into the trunk, then walked over and pulled her into a hug.

“It’ll be okay, baby. Maybe not any time soon, but eventually.”

Kissing her on top of the head, he opened her door. Closing it after she slid inside, he walked around to his own and got in.

Fifty frustrating minutes later, they finally got off the 101 and got to Deacon’s building.

Sara settled back against the headboard of the bed, watching him pack for a minute, then asked, “Are you sure you’re going to be able to break away from work?”

Nodding, he said, “Both Chris and Jim were cool with it. They both asked me to pass along their condolences, by the way.”

Sara felt her eyes water, then held up her hand when Deacon got a pained look on his face. After a couple deep breaths, she whispered, “When you talk to them, tell them I said thanks.”

Getting up from the bed, Sara said, “I’m going to go check in with Elle to make sure everything is okay.”

“All right, I’m almost done here. Then we need to head toward the airport. We leave at six fifty-five.”

Nodding, Sara walked out of the room, fishing through her purse for her phone. Dialing Elle, she went over the next few days’ schedule and was able to confirm that everything was handled. Sighing in relief, she stared out the window at the skyline for a few minutes.

Sara hadn’t ever had an easy relationship with her father. He was ultraconservative and religious in a way that she’d never understood. When her mother had been alive, she acted like a buffer, stopping the majority of the fighting between them.

Sighing, she remembered the look on her mother’s face when she would fight for her daughter’s freedom. Sara was more sheltered than most kids. Even when she rebelled, it was to go to the mall or because she wanted to wear eyeliner. She remembered one time she wanted to go to the movies. She could still see them fighting, clear as day.

“But, Randall, she’s fifteen. She’s a good girl. She has to experience some life though. She just wants to see a movie with her friends. Dee Dee’s mother is picking them up and dropping them off. It will be fine.”

Her father had always been convinced that Sara would be exposed to the wicked world and would end up knocked up, on drugs, on welfare, or any other number of scenarios that would reflect badly on his standing in the church.

When her mother died her junior year of high school, things had only gotten worse. She had always been the one to keep him in check. Without her, Sara’s life became a prison. She hadn’t been allowed to go out, or have a job. There were no dates, no dances, no parties.

She was startled out of her reverie when Deacon laid a hand on her shoulder and asked, “Ready?”

Shaking her head, Sara said, “Not really. But it’s probably time.” He slid his arms around her and gave her a brief hug and said, “We should probably get going.”

They made it to LAX and through airport security with enough time to grab a coffee before they got to the gate. Sara drank hers, and nibbled on a cookie, while Deacon ate a sandwich.

Chapter 18

Thankfully, Sara slept for most of the flight. She looked like she was ready to break into pieces more than a few times. He was really glad he came with her.

He didn’t entirely trust her to take care of herself. Even at her best, she often didn’t remember to eat. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen with her being this upset, if she’d been left to her own devices.

By the time they landed, it was four in the morning. The airport was pretty small, and almost totally empty. Sara followed him out to the car rental bus like a zombie, still half-asleep. By the time they got their car and found their hotel, the sun was starting to rise.

They were both exhausted. Collapsing fully dressed onto the queen-sized bed the moment they walked into the hotel room, they slept.

Around 11:00 a.m., Deacon woke up. Sara was sitting on the bed beside him, hair damp from a shower presumably, typing into her phone.

Stretching, Deacon said, “Morning. What time is it?”

“11:08 a.m.”

Deacon sat up and said, “Let me go grab a shower. We can go get started on whatever we need to do. How long did you sleep?”

“I woke up at 10:00 a.m. Called the mortuary where they handled my mom’s cremation. They’re going to pick him up in a little bit.”

Sighing, Sara said, “I don’t even know if that’s what he would have wanted. We never talked about it when I was younger. By the time I left, things were so bad we barely spoke at all. I was kind of surprised he would even list me as next of kin. I’m about to call the hospice place and see about coming in to get my dad’s things. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the house. I’m pretty sure he still had it. Maybe the keys will be in his things.”

“Be out in a few. I’m gonna go shower now,” Deacon kissed the top of her head and then moved off the bed, grabbing his toiletry bag out of the suitcase.