Second Chance Lane

by Nicola Marsh

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  USA Today bestselling and multi-award winning author NICOLA MARSH writes feel-good fiction … with a twist.

  She has published seventy books and sold over eight million copies worldwide. She currently writes rural romance for HarperCollins Australia’s Mira imprint, emotional domestic suspense for Hachette UK’s Bookouture and contemporary romance for Penguin Random House USA’s Berkley imprint.

  She’s a Romantic Book of the Year and National Readers’ Choice Award winner.

  A physiotherapist for thirteen years, she now adores writing full time, raising her two dashing young heroes, sharing fine food with family and friends, barracking loudly for her beloved North Melbourne Kangaroos footy team, and curling up with a good book!

  www.romance.com.au

  For my parents, Marina and Ollie, who instilled a love

  of small country towns in me from childhood

  CONTENTS

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Acknowledgements

  Excerpt

  PROLOGUE

  Melbourne

  Thirteen years ago

  ‘Natasha Trigg.’ The bouncer—sporting five piercings in his right brow, a nose ring and bulging muscles stretching his black T-shirt to ripping point—consulted his list before nodding. ‘Head on through.’ He lowered the crimson rope to let Tash pass.

  She hesitated, fear of what she had to do rendering her immobile, and earning her a glower from the bouncer.

  ‘In or out?’

  She willed her feet to move towards the main entrance of the Princeton Hotel in cosmopolitan St Kilda. The pub showcased local talent, but tonight, she didn’t care about the music. She’d come here for one reason only.

  To break up with Kody Lansdowne, front man for Rock Hard Place.

  Ironic, as that’s exactly where she’d found herself: between the proverbial rock and a very hard place. But she’d made her decision. She had to follow through. No way would she be responsible for ruining his dream. Even if hers had come crashing down the moment she’d peed on that white stick and glimpsed two vertical blue lines.

  Leaving Brockenridge to study nursing in Melbourne, escaping the watchful eyes of her zealous parents, whose religion ruled every aspect of their lives and hers, had been a dream come true. Maybe her do-gooder parents had passed on their benevolent genes, because she loved helping people. She’d kept her head down for the first two years, hiding out in the nursing quarters attached to the university, determined to focus on her studies and not be distracted by the glitter of the city. Until she’d been dragged to the Princeton one balmy summer’s night by a bunch of nursing students determined to consume their body weight in vodka and had met Kody.

  Her first love. Her first everything. Tonight, she’d come here to tell him the truth. Her version of it, because no way in hell would she be responsible for ruining his dream when her own lay in tatters courtesy of dodgy contraception.

  Hiding this secret burned a hole in her gut, making it impossible to keep anything down. Though that could be the morning sickness.

  She’d rehearsed her spiel many times over the last twenty-four hours, knowing Kody would use every weapon in his charismatic arsenal to sway her. But she’d made her decision. She had to stick to it, no matter how badly her chest tightened with sorrow every time she thought about having to push him away.

  She’d timed her arrival for the last song of the band’s set, knowing she couldn’t stand around for hours pretending to enjoy herself. A jarring guitar riff assaulted her ears as she edged her way into the crowded room where the love of her life and his band took centre stage. Her heart flipped as it always did when she caught sight of him and she blinked back the sting of tears. Damn hormones.

  Kody dominated the stage and it had nothing to do with his six-two height, dark curly hair, mesmerising brown eyes and smile that made women fall at his feet: he had a presence that captivated everyone in the room and when he opened his mouth to sing—she’d never heard anything like it. Deep, gravelly, sexy, his voice transcended time and she wasn’t surprised he’d captured the attention of an LA recording studio. Ironic that the night he’d told her all his dreams of being a rock star were about to come true was the night she’d planned to tell him about the baby.

  She’d had it all figured out: they’d rent a small two-bedroom bungalow by the bay. Maybe Elwood, Elsternwick or South Melbourne, somewhere close enough for him to continue inner-city gigs while she completed her nursing degree. Kody had a massive network of friends and she’d envisaged arranging babysitting through one of them while juggling her studies. They would make it work, creating a close, loving family, the kind she’d never had.

  But Kody had been hyper that night, pouncing on her the minute she stepped into his tiny studio apartment, picking her up and swinging her around until she’d become dizzy. He’d kissed her, deeply, passionately, in the way she’d never been kissed before him, then told her his good news in a rush, the words tumbling over themselves in his excitement.

  A leading LA producer had been in Melbourne for a music awards show, seen Rock Hard Place at a gig and waited to speak to Kody afterwards. While he couldn’t promise anything, the producer had the power to catapult Rock Hard Place towards the kind of fame most musicians only dream about.

  Tash had been genuinely happy for him, swept up in his excitement even as a small part of her died. There’d be no moving in together, no shared parenting, no family. Instead, she’d be forced to move back to Brockenridge to live with her disapproving parents who would alternate between berating her for being so stupid and lecturing her about falling prey to the devil. But it would be a small price to pay if one of them got to live their dream. She loved Kody that much.

  As if sensing her presence now, Kody’s eyes locked on hers across the crowded room. He smiled, lighting up the part of her soul that would never forget him. He hauled the microphone stand close, caressing it, and she tingled with the memory of how he did the same to her body.

  ‘I’d like to dedicate this song to the most beautiful girl in the world,’ he said as raucous cheers and foot stomping filled the room. The lights went out, save for a lone spotlight on Kody, who was sitting on a bar stool, an acoustic guitar resting on his knee. And when he began to sing about love and adoration and soul-deep connection, Tash couldn’t stem the tears. She could’ve sworn the entire room disappeared and it was just the two of them as he crooned lyrics meant for her.

  When he plucked the final chord, the room erupted into applause a
nd Tash knew the time had come. Dragging in a shaky breath, she shouldered her way to the side of the stage. One of the roadies saw her and waved her over, allowing her to slip backstage, where Kody swept her into his arms and buried his face in her neck.

  She loved the smell of him after a performance: sweat mingled with deodorant—uniquely Kody—and she wished she could imprint this on her memory for the long, lonely nights ahead.

  When he released her, he tipped her chin up so he could stare into her eyes. ‘You’re usually as pumped as me after a gig. What’s up?’

  ‘Not here,’ she said, snagging his hand and tugging him towards a door that led out into a laneway. When the door slammed shut behind them, she led him to a quiet corner behind some stacked beer kegs.

  ‘You’re worrying me—’

  ‘I’m pregnant, Kody, but you don’t have to worry because I’m getting rid of it.’ She had to say the words in a rush, otherwise she’d never get them out. She needed him to believe she was the worst person in the world or she wouldn’t get through this without burying herself in his arms for comfort.

  He paled, then blinked several times, before releasing her hand and staggering back like she’d slapped him. ‘Don’t I get a say in this?’ He shook his head, his lips flattening. ‘This is my kid too.’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s my body, and I don’t want a baby now. It would ruin everything.’

  His upper lip curled in derision. ‘Right. Your precious nursing degree.’

  He made it sound like she wanted to pole dance for a living. He’d never stared at her with loathing before and his narrow-eyed glare made her second-guess her decision for a moment.

  But she had to do this. Had to make him hate her. There was no other choice.

  ‘Good luck in LA,’ she said, managing to stop her voice from quivering as she turned and walked away.

  She willed him to come after her, to say that he wanted a baby with her, that he wanted a family, that he wanted her to come with him.

  Instead, she heard a string of muttered curses before a door slammed.

  Kody had believed her. She should be relieved. Yet all she felt was soul-deep sorrow.

  CHAPTER

  1

  Brockenridge

  Present day

  Tash slid the last bolt home on the front door of The Watering Hole and joined her co-workers at a table near the kitchen. Usually she loved their evening planning meetings when they brainstormed ideas for the month ahead, but tonight her heart wasn’t in it. All she could think about was the argument she’d had with Isla this morning, arguments that were becoming more frequent with her twelve-year-old daughter. Most of them centred around the identity of Isla’s father.

  It had been easier when Isla was younger. Back then, she’d been satisfied with a vague answer or an ‘I don’t know’ before being distracted with a banana muffin or a blueberry smoothie. But with Isla’s growing online expertise, Tash knew it would only be a matter of time before her daughter wanted to do a little research of her own.

  Tash couldn’t tell her the truth. Not when Isla’s father was plastered across the internet. She’d ditched the habit of following his career online years ago, around the time he’d won his umpteenth award. Tash had achieved what she’d set out to do—set Kody free to find success—and while following Kody’s every step as Rock Hard Place took the world by storm had been the only bright spot in her lonely existence as a struggling single mother, she’d eventually stopped torturing herself with what might have been.

  She’d anticipated help from her parents upon her return to Brockenridge. She’d been wrong. They’d heard her out, glowered at her still-flat belly and announced they were moving hours away. So much for religion fostering acceptance and forgiveness.

  ‘Hey, what’s taking you so long?’ Ruby pushed out the wooden chair opposite with her foot. ‘Take a seat so we can get started.’

  ‘You’re much bossier than Clara ever was,’ Tash said, glad they’d all reached a place where they could mention Ruby’s mum, the original owner of the roadhouse, without awkwardness. It was a year since Clara had died and Ruby had returned to Brockenridge to discover she’d inherited the roadhouse. In that time, Ruby had convinced her high school boyfriend not to tear the roadhouse down in favour of a fancy-schmancy country club and Alisha, the roadhouse hostess, had hooked up with Harry, the roadhouse’s chef. It was a regular love-fest around the place and, while Tash was happy for them all, she couldn’t help but feel like a spare wheel at times.

  ‘My bossiness is what’s making this place thrive, so you should be grateful,’ Ruby said, with a smile. ‘Okay, first up—Harry, why don’t you give us a rundown of the new menu?’

  Tash tuned out when Harry started listing his latest culinary creations, most of them a unique blend of Indian and Aussie tucker. With Alisha being Indian, he’d adopted some of the recipes she’d taught him, and while Tash loved his curry beef pie and chilli scrambled eggs, she drew the line at his baingan bharta nachos: corn chips covered in a spicy eggplant stew.

  ‘Thanks, Harry.’ Ruby ticked off a few points on her list. ‘Alisha, why don’t you give us a rundown of the bands for the upcoming theme nights?’

  Tash stiffened at the mention of bands as she inevitably did and forced herself to relax. Nobody but Alisha knew the identity of Isla’s father and she’d like to keep it that way. Thankfully, her friend never brought up the subject, not since Tash had burst into embarrassing tears several years ago when Alisha had suggested she tell Kody the truth. The thought had crossed her mind, several times, but with every album release, every hit song, every award, Tash’s resolve waned. Kody had endless funds to fight a lengthy custody battle and losing her precious daughter was one thing Tash wouldn’t gamble on.

  ‘We’ve got three local bands lined up for the regular blues nights, but no rock band for the gig in eight weeks,’ Alisha said, with a grimace. ‘I’ve tried reaching out to a few managers and event coordinators, but nada.’

  ‘Thanks, keep trying.’ Ruby ticked off another task and circled ‘rock band’ on her list. ‘Tash, have you found extra staff for the theme nights?’

  Feeling like the failure of the group as always, she shook her head. ‘I’ve advertised in town and moved further afield to Echuca, but no luck. Plenty of teens want to apply but they can’t work here because of the liquor licensing rules. I’ll keep looking.’

  ‘Okay,’ Ruby said, running an orange highlighter through the ‘find wait staff’ task on her list. ‘Anyone have anything else to raise?’

  Alisha stuck her hand in the air like a kid in primary school.

  ‘What is it, Lish?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Uh … well … the thing is …’ Alisha trailed off, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

  ‘For goodness’ sake. We’re engaged,’ Harry muttered. ‘And we’re not mucking about with any big wedding hoopla, so we’d like to hold the reception here, if that’s okay with you.’

  The initial shocked silence gave way to an excited whoop as Ruby leapt from her chair to hug the happy couple. ‘Congratulations, you two. Of course you can have your reception here.’

  Ruby hugged Alisha, then Harry, and Tash followed suit, murmuring, ‘About bloody time,’ in Harry’s ear, and, ‘I’m so happy for you, sweetie,’ in Alisha’s.

  Alisha and Harry had been her best friends for years. They’d supported her through her pregnancy when she’d started waitressing at the roadhouse after returning home from Melbourne as a terrified, pregnant twenty-year-old. They’d helped her convince Clara to offer a pay rise when she’d used the last of her savings and had a six-month-old to support. They’d wiped away her tears on Isla’s first day at preschool, school and, recently, high school. They’d been more of a support system than her parents had ever been and she loved them dearly. So why the tiny niggle of regret that everything in her well-ordered life was changing?

  ‘When’s the big day?’

  ‘In six weeks,’ Alisha said, beaming at her pro
spective groom. ‘We’re too old to wait.’ It made sense, as Tash knew Alisha wanted to have a baby ASAP—she’d just turned forty-three.

  ‘I’m the only old fart around here,’ Harry muttered, his bashful grin endearing. ‘I’m fifty-two, you know.’

  Ruby laughed. ‘Yeah, you’re old.’

  Tash added a guffaw. ‘Practically ancient.’

  ‘Hey, you two, settle down. I’ll have you know I’m extremely fit for my age.’ Harry flexed his biceps in a double cobra that had them all laughing again.

  ‘I can vouch for that,’ Alisha said, with a wink, and Tash groaned.

  ‘Too much information.’

  Ruby’s smile widened as she said, ‘Gross.’

  ‘I’ve already typed the date into the computer to secure the booking,’ Alisha said, back to business. ‘Because there’s nowhere else we want to have our reception.’

  Ruby’s grin faded. ‘Who’s going to cater? Harry can’t cook for his own wedding.’

  Harry shot Tash a look she had no hope of interpreting. ‘Well, I was hoping Tash could use her influence with the bakery in town for our cake, and I’ll approach our favourite wine bar in Echuca to cater, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Perfect,’ Ruby said.

  Tash nodded. ‘Sure, I’ll organise the cake. Just email me a few pics of what you want and your budget, and I’ll get it sorted.’

  Harry visibly relaxed, and Alisha said, ‘Thanks, Tash, we knew we could count on you.’

  Ruby rubbed her hands together. ‘Who’s up for a celebratory champagne?’

  Tash had pulled a double shift and couldn’t wait to get out of here, pick Isla up from netball practice, and head home. But these people were family and she owed them.

  ‘Sure, but only half a glass for me,’ she said, holding her thumb and forefinger two inches apart. However, before Ruby could pop the cork, Tash’s mobile rang and her heart stuttered when she glimpsed Isla’s ID on the screen. Isla rarely called and especially not in front of her friends if she could help it. Which meant this call could be important.

  She stabbed at the answer button with her thumb. ‘Hey, Isla, everything okay?’