A Second Chance [COMPLETED]

Chapter 18 - "That's LA talking."

Twelve hours later, Lennon found herself in the Asheville airport, taking advantage of the free weekend she had been given after the Las Vegas trip. It was eerily quiet and empty except for the small group of people who had exited the plane with Lennon.

At the exit, she branched off, walking towards the man slouched down in a chair. His head rested back, his eyes closed. She gave him a loving smile. It was almost one in the morning and she knew he never stayed up past ten. She stopped in front of him, her dirty white converse just inches from his worn shoes. He opened his eyes and gave her a tired smile.

"Len, it's good to have to you home," Deacon said, standing.

She stepped into his open arms. The warmth of his hug felt like home and her shoulders dropped. He took her bag and led the way towards the exit, his arm still wrapped around her shoulders.

"Thanks for coming to get me Deacon," she said.

She spotted his big old fashion pick up truck in the parking lot and the familiar sight seemed to cause a crack in the emptiness that hadn't gone away since Vegas.

The single bench that reached from door to door of the truck was worn, the cushion cracking in places. The cab smelled like oil and polish and it took Lennon back to her teen years.

She had so many memories of piling a crowd into the car. The radio was old-fashioned but it had played the soundtrack to her high school years.

Lennon pulled her legs beneath her and rested her forehead against the window as she watched the dark buildings flying by. Even in the dark, the landscape still felt familiar.

"Charlotte's sorry she couldn't pick you up but she has an early event tomorrow," Deacon said apologetically.

Lennon looked over and smiled at him.

"It's ok. It's my fault my visit is so last minute."

"Well, last minute or not, you are always welcome."

"Thanks," she said.

****************

"Home sweet home," Deacon said, as he pulled into the driveway.

His headlights illuminated the yellow house for a moment before he shut them off. He carried her bag as she followed him to the house.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Deacon dropped her bag at the foot of the stairs and led the way to the kitchen. The light above the stove was still on, casting strange shadows on the cupboards and floor. There was a plate covered in tinfoil sitting on the counter and a post-it stuck to it.

"For Lennon," it read, in Charlotte's hand writing.

"That woman thinks of everything," Deacon said, smiling down at the plate.

"Yes, she does," Lennon said with the same love in her voice.

She pulled back the tinfoil to reveal a slice of meatloaf, potatoes and veggies.

"I'll throw it in the microwave," Deacon said.

Lennon moved to the counter with the stack of drawers beneath it and fished a fork out.

"You want to join me?" She asked, her hand hovering over another fork.

"Sure," he said.

She grabbed a second fork and took a seat on one of the barstools. The microwave dinged and Deacon pulled a steaming plate of food out. He placed it in front of Lennon and took a seat next to her.