Page 84 of Once Upon A Second Chance

My father clears his throat awkwardly, but my mother leans in, voice sharpening. "You could have anyone. You’re choosing...her?After everything?"

I push back my chair so hard it scrapes across the floor. Half the tiny café turns to look.

"Yeah," I say. "I’m choosing her. I’llalwayschoose her."

And without waiting for a response, without giving them the chance to spit more poison into something good, I turn and walk out.

I’m halfway to my truck before the adrenaline hits.

My hands are shaking as I pull the keys from my pocket, but it’s not fear anymore. It’sclarity. It’s something real, burning hot and bright under my skin.

I don’t even hesitate.

I start the engine and head for Penny’s house.

Chapter Eighteen

Penny

The house is too quiet.

I sit on the couch with my knees tucked up to my chest, staring at my phone where it lies face-down on the coffee table, as if by flipping it over I might stop it from taunting me.

I haven't heard from Richard since the day I kicked him out except for his half-hearted generic apology in the break room.

Not a text. Not a call. Not even a cowardly middle-of-the-night voicemail he could pretend he didn’t mean.

I should be relieved. I told him to go. I meant it. Didn’t I?

But every time the house creaks, every time a car drives past, some part of me lights up, stupid and hopeful.

I pull the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders and stare at the clock. Almost 7:00. It’s too late to pretend I’m just busy. Too early to pretend I’m asleep.

The worst part is, I keep picking up my phone.

Thumb hovering over his name.

Thinking about texting something—Anything. Hey. Can we talk? I miss you.—and then setting it back down like it weighs a hundred pounds.

I’m mad at him. I’mstillhurt.

But somewhere beneath that, coiled tight and impossible to ignore, is the memory of his mouth on mine, his hands steady on my waist, the way he said he hoped we'd find our way back to each other.

I drag a hand through my hair and stand up, pacing the living room.

I don’t know how to start.

I don’t know if it even matters anymore.

Maybe he’s moved on already. Maybe he decided it was easier to let me believe I wasn't worth fighting for.

The thought makes my chest ache.

Bijou lifts her head from her bed in the corner, ears perking up at the sound of tires crunching on gravel outside.

I freeze.

No one’s supposed to be here.