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Page 35 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)

Chapter twenty-seven

Liam

T wo weeks.

Fourteen days after I apologized to Hazel, I finally learned the truth about why she left all those years ago. Fourteen days of knowing that I had let her slip through my fingers for reasons that could have been fixed if I had not been so blind.

Since then, I have been giving her the space she seems to need - but not without reminding her that I am still here.

Every morning, without fail, I leave a single rose outside her door with a note attached.

Nothing elaborate - just a line or two. It could be “ Thinking of you,” “I’m sorry I hurt you, ” or “ I’ll wait for you.

” Sometimes, I think I am stalking or something, but then, this is all I can do for now.

Well, I’d like to think so.

At work, we are civil, polite even. She is professional to a fault and painfully distant. She only approaches me when she needs something - help setting up a shot, a quick opinion on an idea, or during the meeting.

It is the kind of distance that stings, like she has built an invisible wall between us, and every polite nod or clipped reply is another brick. And I am on the other side, fumbling for a way to reach her.

So tonight, I am doing something different. It is time to remind her of what we once had and what we could have again if she lets me. I am taking her to one of our favorite spots but knowing she would not come with me if I had asked, I decided to recruit Katie.

I told Katie that she needed to head to the Bluebird and Lakewood Meadow, which is just on the outskirts of Autumn Cove, to take pictures of one of the team members at 7.

00 pm that evening. It is his second favorite place, and to tell her that the guy will not be available as of tomorrow morning.

Hazel’s a sucker for authenticity, so of course, she agreed.

Okay, I know that was wrong, but sometimes, twisting the truth a little gets the job done.

By 6:55 pm, the crunch of gravel catches my attention, and when I look up, there she is. Hazel steps out of her car, looking around with cautious curiosity. She is dressed simply - jeans, a soft sweater, her hair loose. She is beautiful.

When she steps into the clearing, a camera bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes immediately lock on me. She stops dead, her face a mixture of confusion and frustration.

“You,” she says, her voice sharp and flat.

“Me,” I reply, hands shoved in my pockets.

Her eyes narrow. “So, let me guess - Katie’s mysterious player is you?”

I raise my hands defensively. “Guilty. But before you get too mad, hear me out.”

She crosses her arms, clearly unimpressed. “This better be good.”

“Katie helped me because she knew I needed a chance to talk to you, really talk to you,” I explain. “And, well…, I didn’t think you’d come if I just asked.”

Her eyebrows lift in a challenge. “And you did not think to try? You just assumed I would say no?”

“Would you have said yes if I had?”

She shrugs. “We will never know now, will we? You did not give me the chance. You never asked… Just assumed and came to the conclusion…, again.”

I sigh, my hand falling to my side. “You are right. I guess I am making the same mistakes again.”

She does not respond right away, her eyes scanning the meadow behind me. Finally, she crosses her arms. “So, you wanted me all the way out here for what exactly?”

“Come with me,” I say, motioning for her to follow.

She hesitates for a moment, but then, with a small sigh, she steps forward, walking behind me.

When we reach the clearing near the lake, Hazel stops dead in her tracks. Her breath catches audibly, and for a moment, she does not move.

I watch her carefully, gauging her reaction as her eyes take in the setup.

A picnic blanket spread across the grass, lanterns casting a soft glow, her favorite snacks arranged neatly on one side, cozy blankets folded on the other, and a small bouquet of wildflowers.

The lake ripples gently in the distance, reflecting the last light of the setting sun.

“It’s…, a picnic,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Our picnic,” I corrected gently.

“You…, remembered?”

“Every detail,” I say quietly, stepping closer.

She turns to me, her expression unreadable, and for a moment, I wonder if I have miscalculated everything. Then her voice, calm but tinged with sadness, cuts through the air.

“Why? Why would you do this?”

“Because this was one of the best nights of my life, Hazel. Because I wanted to bring back that moment. Because I wanted to remind you or myself of what we had. Because I…, I do not know...”

She does not move at first; she just stares at the scene like she is trying to piece together her thoughts.

“Come on, sit…,” I say to her, waiting for her to sit before I join her on the blanket.

After just a few moments of silence, I pull a small box from my pocket and hold it out to her. “Here...”

She takes the box cautiously, her fingers brushing mine. When she opens it, two folded letters rest inside.

“What are these?” She asks, her voice laced with uncertainty.

“Letters I wrote to you,” I reply. “The first one…, I wrote two days before I came back. I planned to give it to you the night we were supposed to meet.”

Her brows knit together, but she unfolds the first letter anyway. As she reads, her expression shifts - confusion melting into something softer, something more vulnerable.”

Hazel,

I miss you. I know I have only been away for a few weeks, but it feels like it has been forever.

It is the longest I’ve ever been away from you, and every second of it has been harder than I thought possible.

The days feel empty without your laugh, and the nights are unbearable without your voice to soothe me.

I love you, Hazel. God, I love you so much.

Every moment I am away, I find myself replaying all of the little things about you - your smile, the way your eyes light up when you are excited, even the way you scold me when I am being ridiculous.

I cannot wait to come home, to wrap my arms around you, to kiss you, and tell you this in person.

I know you will be reading this letter in front of me, so I want you to do something for me when you are done - jump into my arms. Don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, just leap because they are already open and ready to close around you and hold you close.

Counting down the hours until I’m back. And when I am, I’m never letting you go again.

Yours always,

Liam.

When she finishes, she looks at me, her voice barely above a whisper. “And the second?”

“I wrote it six months after you left. I did not know where you were, so I never got the chance to send it.”

She unfolds the second letter, and as her eyes scan the words, a tear slips down her cheek. She quickly brushes it away, but the emotion on her face is unmistakable.

Hazel,

It has been six months. Six months since you left, and I am still trying to make sense of it all.

I tell myself I should hate you for what you did - for how you left without a word, for breaking my heart, for turning everything we had into something that feels like a lie.

But the truth? I can’t. I can’t hate you, Hazel, no matter how much I wish I could.

I miss you. Terribly. I wake up every day hoping it’s all been a nightmare, that I’ll walk out of my door and see you standing there with your camera, smiling at me like you used to. But you’re not here, and it’s like a piece of me is missing.

I don’t know how to be in this town without you. Every corner reminds me of you. Every laugh, every memory, every fight - it’s all here, haunting me. I’m in pain, Hazel. Pain is because of your betrayal but also because everything feels empty without you.

I hate how much I still wish you were here. I hate how much I still want to hear your voice, even if it’s just to tell me I’m an idiot. I hate that despite everything, I can’t stop loving you.

I wish I could make you feel even a fraction of what I feel so you’d understand what it’s like to live in this endless ache. But I wouldn’t wish this on anyone - not even you.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this. Over you. But I need you to know that despite the pain, despite the anger, there’s a part of me that still hopes you’re out there, happy. Because if I know one thing, it’s that loving you is something I will never regret.

Yours in heartbreak,

Liam.

“Why did you keep these?” She asks, her voice thick.

“Because I couldn’t let go,” I admit, my throat tightening. “And because I hoped - hoped that someday, I’d get the chance to give them to you.”

She stares at me, her walls cracking just enough for me to see the pain she is still carrying.

“Hazel,” I say, stepping closer, “did you know I finally discovered where you were two years ago?”

Her head tilts slightly. “What?”

“I was on a flight, and the passenger next to me was reading a magazine,” I explain, a small smile tugging at my lips, “your picture was on the cover. I was so proud of you, Hazel. Seeing you living your dream - it made me so happy.”

She blinks, a fresh wave of tears threatening to fall. For the first time in weeks, she does not pull away when I reach out.

“I know I can’t change the past,” I say, my voice steady, “but I am here now, and I’m trying. Can we start over?”

“I’m scared of letting you in again, Liam…”

“I know,” I whisper. “And you have every right to be. But I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life making up for everything - for every mistake, every hurt, every moment I let you down. Just…, let me try. Please.”

Her lips press together, trembling slightly as a tear slips down her cheek. I reach up, my fingers brushing it away, letting them linger on her skin for just a moment longer. “Can we start over?” I ask again, my voice softer this time, almost a plea.

She looks at me, her eyes searching mine, but I do not look away. I want her to see it all - the love, the regret, the promise.

After what feels like forever, she nods slowly.

Relief crashes over me, a feeling so overwhelming that it almost takes my breath away. I smile, just barely, and say, “Thank you.” My thumb grazes her cheek again, wiping away another tear as it falls.

“Spitfire,” I whisper, her nickname slipping out like second nature, “can I kiss you?”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, she just stares at me. Then, with a soft, almost imperceptible nod, she gives me her answer.

I do not hesitate. I lean in slowly, giving her the chance to change her mind. But when our lips meet, it is like the world becomes still.

The kiss is tenderly cautious - two souls evaluating the waters after years of pain and longing. But as her hands find their way to my chest, clutching the fabric of my shirt, the kiss deepens, and the careful restraint between us begins to crumble.

When we finally pull back, her forehead rests against mine, and her shaky breath floats across my skin. I keep my eyes closed for a moment, savoring it all.

“Thank you,” I murmur, barely audible, but I know she hears me.

Her voice is equally quiet when she replies. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t,” I promise, my thumb brushing her cheek again. “Not this time. Not ever.”