Page 17 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)

“So, you do admit they're snacks, lots of snacks in here,” I say, chuckling.

She rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath as she adjusts her tripod. But I catch the faint blush creeping up her neck.

We walk in silence for a few moments, the night air cool against my skin. The clearing she is heading toward comes into view, a small patch of grass framed by tall trees and lit faintly by the glow of the moon.

“You do realize this is one of the most inconvenient spots,” I say, setting the bag down when we reach her destination.

She shrugs, adjusting the tripod in her hands. “The best shots don’t come from convenience.”

I watch as she sets up her tripod, her movements quick and practiced. There’s a quiet determination to her, a focus that is both frustrating and fascinating to watch.

“You’ve always had a thing for photography,” I say, leaning against a nearby tree. “But honestly? I thought you would end up being a dancer. You were good at it.”

She freezes for a moment, her hands stilling on the tripod. Then she straightens, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Yeah, well…, some dreams are worth giving up.”

She smiles faintly, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I enjoy this,” she continues, gesturing to the camera. “Capturing emotions. Bringing them to life. It is…, fulfilling.”

After a moment, I clear my throat, shifting the bag in my hands. “You didn’t take it with you.”

She blinks, “What?”

“The camera I got you,” I clarify. “You didn’t take it when you left.”

She freezes this time, her fingers hovering over the lens. For a long second, she does not move. Then, slowly, she shrugs.

“I didn’t need to,” she says lightly, but there is something too casual in her tone.

I narrow my eyes, my gaze locked on her. “You did not take most of the things I bought for you. Why?”

“What would’ve been the point?” She says finally, her voice is quiet but firm.

“The point,” I echo, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “They were yours. Things you loved.”

She does not look at me, her attention firmly on the camera as she snaps another photo. “I loved a lot of things I had to leave behind.”

Her words hang in the air between us, heavy and loaded, and I have no idea how to respond.

After a long pause, she straightens and adjusts the angle of her tripod. “You’re still staying up late, I see,” she says, her tone lighter now, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Old habits,” I reply, “you were always terrible at being on time,”

She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “And you’re not great at minding your own business.”

“But…”

She laughs; her laugh is soft, almost nostalgic.

“Is it weird?” I ask suddenly.

“What?”

“Living here. Knowing it is my guesthouse.”

She turns to me, her brow furrowed. “Should it be?”

I shrug, unsure of the answer myself. “I do not know. Just seems..., strange.”

“Well, I’m paying rent, so technically, it’s mine for now,” she says, a smirk tugging at her lips.

I cannot help but smile back. “Fair point. What are you shooting?”

“It’s for a personal project,” she says, her voice softer now as she takes a picture of the night sky. “Something I’ve been working on for a while.”

“Yeah? What kind of project?”

She hesitates; her eyes fixed on the picture she has taken. “Just…, capturing moments. People, places. The in-between stuff that everyone overlooks. Right now, the night sky is beautiful,” she says softly. “I needed to capture it. And the fireflies.”

“You’ve changed,” I say, not entirely sure if it is a compliment or an observation.

She pauses, her fingers adjusting the lens of her camera. A soft chuckle escapes her lips. "Haven’t we all?"

Her gaze drifts to the night sky as if she is searching for answers in the stars, and for a moment, I don’t say anything. I just watch her. The way the soft light dances across her features, the faint curve of her lips as she smiles, the ease she seems to carry despite everything.

And just for that fleeting second, I see her. The girl I used to love five years ago.

The one who could light up a room with her laugh, whose stubbornness could rival mine, and who saw the world with a kind of wonder that made you believe in things you had long stopped believing in.

But then the moment shifts, reality slipping back in, and I realize she is not the same girl.

She is the girl who left me and shattered all I knew about her.

I clear my throat, forcing the thoughts back where they belong - buried deep. “All right,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I’ll leave you to it.”

She blinks, her attention snapping back to me. “Oh.” There is a flicker of surprise in her expression, followed by something I cannot quite read. “Okay.”

I nod, turning on my heel before the moment stretches too thin, before I say or do something I cannot take back.

“Liam,” she says suddenly, her voice softer now.

“Yeah?”

She hesitates, her fingers brushing against the tripod. “Thanks…, for helping earlier.”

“Yeah.”

She lifts her brow slightly. “Goodnight, Liam.”

“Night.”

As I walk away, I don’t look back, though every nerve in my body tells me to.