Page 4 of Once Upon A Second Chance

The parking lot asphalt radiates heat even as the sun dips behind the clinic roof. I lean against my rental car, tie loosened, one of Holloway’s files crumpled in my grip.

My phone buzzes. Rebecca again.

You didn’t tell me you were leaving the state.

I thumb the screen off. The cicadas scream in the trees, a sound so different from New York’s constant hum.

Through the clinic’s front window, I see Penny locking up. She pauses at the door, keys in hand, shoulders slumped for just a second—like she’s been holding her breath all day.

Then she turns, but I don’t think she sees me sitting in the lot.

My phone rings. Holloway’s name flashes, but I reject the call.

The lot is empty except for the moths batting against the flickering streetlight.

I start the engine. Drive away.

But I already know—

This town isn’t done with me yet.

And I’m not done with her.

Chapter Two

Penny

The clinic door clicks shut behind me with finality.

The late summer air sticks to my skin like a second layer of scrubs as I watch Richard’s rental car turn left out of the parking lot.

My keys bite into my palm where I'm gripping them too tightly.

"Damn, girl. You look like you just saw a ghost. Or pissed off a particular surgeon."

Lena's voice makes me jump.

Her quiet crepe soled shoes, favored by most of our nurses, make no noise as she appears at my elbow holding two sweating iced coffees, her twist-out curls pulled back in the messy bun she only wears on late shifts.

The coffee’s condensation drips onto the asphalt between us as she holds one out to me.

I take it with what I hope is a convincingly casual shrug. "Just tired. And, for the record, I don’t generally piss offanyof our surgeons.”

Lena takes a loud sip through her straw, the ice rattling like punctuation. "Uh-huh. And that's why you 'accidentally' spilled his coffee earlier? To test your theory?"

My face goes hot. "That was an actual accident."

"Like how you 'accidentally' memorized his schedule this week?" She wiggles her eyebrows. "Face it, Morgan. You're busted."

The coffee tastes like betrayal— exactly the right amount of caramel and oat milk. Lena knows my order too well.

I focus on the icy slide of coffee down my throat instead of the way my pulse jumps when I remember how Richard's shoulders filled out that stupidly perfect dress shirt.

"Look," I say, aiming for detached and landing somewhere near defensive. "He's just a locum—he won’t be here very long. I'm a professional. The end."

Lena makes a show of looking around the empty parking lot. "Wow. That sounded almost convincing. You practice in the mirror this morning?"

I flip her off, but there's no heat in it. The cicadas scream their approval from the trees lining the lot.