One Last Chance: Finding Love in Scotland Series Book 1

by Gina Azzi

  “Police’ll be here shortly.” He announces proudly.

  His wife performs the Sign of the Cross, the baby cries, and I drink my tea, dazed and disoriented.

  I’m up hours before daybreak on Monday morning. It’s early, too early. Looking at my phone, I roll my eyes at the time: 5:07AM. I barely slept, and the hours I did manage to clock were fitful. Still, I force myself to get out of bed and take my third shower in the past twelve hours.

  Standing under the scalding water, I rub my skin raw. Even though Dennis didn’t get far in his disgusting attempt to sexually assault me, I still feel his hands and breath on my skin. I feel dirty and used. And I hate it.

  The only reason I was able to sleep in my apartment last night is because of my wonderfully kind and caring neighbors’ downstairs who repeatedly assured me that they would be home all night. I’ve picked up my phone so many times to call my brothers, Sierra, Finn, Aaron, even Jenni. But in the end, I didn’t know what to say or how to say it.

  I stupidly invited a colleague who gave me the heebie-jeebies into my home?

  I’ve been physically assaulted?

  I’m scared?

  Lifting my hand to my cheek, I wince from the sting of the raw skin. A light purple bruise has appeared, serving as enough evidence for the police to take Dennis in for questioning. While he tried to play it off as an argument, the police officer took one look at me and cuffed Dennis. Knowing he was tangled up for hours with the cops provided an additional layer of relief for me to stay in my apartment last night.

  Stepping out of the shower, I towel off quickly and inspect my face in the mirror. With the proper application of makeup, I can cover the bruise although the swelling is a dead giveaway. Should I call out of work?

  Probably.

  But the pitch is in two days and I need to be in the office; I still need Aaron to review my final presentation. If anyone asks, I’ll say I’m not feeling well. It won’t be hard to sell, my body feels sluggish, my mind foggy.

  What if I see Dennis? Will he even show at work today? Will he try to talk to me? The thought alone causes a ripple of fear to run down my spine.

  I need to tell James what happened. I need to notify someone at the office. Human Resources?

  What if they don’t believe me?

  What if it’s my word against Dennis’s and we both end up fired?

  I shake my head at myself. Of course the Anderson’s are going to believe me.

  Then, why do I feel guilty? Ashamed?

  Did I lead Dennis on somehow?

  Tears prick my eyes again as I remember his expression, the malice in his eyes.

  Wiping the towel across my face, I blow out a deep breath. No, I’m claiming my future. I’m standing on my own two feet. I’m not going to be driven from my work, sidetracked from my career, because of a douchebag like Dennis.

  I can do this.

  Opening the bathroom door, my eyes linger on my bed and a wave of exhaustion washes over me.

  What if I sleep for a little and then head into the office later today?

  Feeling emotionally all over the place and drained at the same time, I tug on one of Carter’s old baseball T-shirts that has transitioned into one of my sleep shirts and crawl back under the covers. First sleep.

  Then, claiming my future.

  29

  Finn

  Aaron: James called. Dennis arrested last night? I’m dealing with Kate at the moment – can you make some calls and find out what happened?

  What the hell? Dennis was arrested? For what?

  Me: Sure.

  Standing from my desk, I decide I need caffeine before I can tackle this Monday morning. The office is still relatively quiet, just a few early birds, or overachievers, present. My eyes search out Daisy’s cubicle. She’s usually among the overachievers.

  Noting her empty desk chair and blank computer screen, I guess she’s not making an early appearance today. Too bad. We really need to talk. I called and messaged her over the weekend and I’m a little surprised she hasn’t responded at all. Not that she owes me anything but I figured she’d be curious enough to answer.

  Making my way to the kitchen, I pop a coffee pod into the Nespresso machine and wait for the cup to brew. A niggling thought scrapes at the back of my brain.

  What the hell kind of a scrape did Dennis get into last night?

  He’s always with the other first-years. I bet any one of them would know, including Daisy.

  I could talk to her when she comes into work.

  Adding cream and sugar to my coffee, I pick up the mug and walk back to my office, noticing that Cameron, Melanie, and Chloe have all arrived, their computers switched on. This is the final week to prepare for their McKinnon pitches and they’re all glued to their laptops.

  Except Daisy.

  The realization stops me in my tracks and even though I can’t explain it, I know, just know, that Dennis’s arrest is somehow linked to Daisy. The thought is jarring and unsettling and causes a sick dread to spread through my limbs. Grabbing my car keys, I leave my mug on my desk and swipe my coat from the coat rack. Then I’m beelining to the lifts, ignoring everyone I pass. Pressing the button for the lift, I lose my patience and take the stairs, jogging to the parking garage and sliding behind the wheel of my car.

  I need to get to Daisy.

  I pound on the door to Daisy’s flat, relieved her neighbor downstairs let me in. He questioned me thoroughly and it was my frantic insistence that I needed to see she was safe with my own eyes that convinced him to let me up. I knock again, nearly sagging against the doorframe in relief when I hear the shuffle of feet on the other side of the door.

  “Who is it?” Her voice is strained, and something in my stomach sinks at the nervousness in her tone.

  “Daisy? Open the door,” I demand, wincing as I realize she’s scared, and I’m probably scaring her even more. But I need eyes on her. I need to know she’s really okay.

  She cracks the door the tiniest bit, the chain link separating us. “Finn?” Her voice wavers, and I lean my face all the way forward, showing her it’s me.

  “It’s me. Can I please come in? Please.”

  She closes the door briefly as the chain slides out of the lock. Then she pulls the door open, and I step inside before she can change her mind and shut me out again.

  Daisy looks terrible. And beautiful. And safe. And exhausted.

  “Oh, Daisy.” I pull her into my arms and crush her against my chest, not caring that I don’t have any right to, not caring that I’m probably crossing every imaginary line in the sand I put between us. In this moment, I just need her. I just need to know that she’s really okay.

  She doesn’t fight me like I’m expecting, instead, allowing me the moment to hug her. She melts into my chest, and I feel her shoulders shake. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest as I realize she’s crying, and I can feel the wetness of her tears seep through my shirt.

  “Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay,” I tell her, running my fingers through her hair.

  She continues to sob, her fingers twisting in the thick material of my coat. Shrugging it off, I pick her up and cradle her against me while walking to the couch in the living room. I sit down, keeping Daisy pressed tightly against me, and hold her while she cries tears I don’t understand but hate all the same.

  We stay like this, pressed together, her in my lap, her cheek against my shoulder, for a long, long time. I watch the sunlight filter in through the blinds and the shadows of passing cars flicker across the walls.

  After a while, Daisy pulls back, her eyes puffy and red, her skin blotchy. And still, she’s beautiful.

  “Hi,” I whisper at her tear-stained face, holding her cheeks in my hands, so I can get a good look at her eyes.

  Her unique, multicolored eyes gleam with emotion and sag with exhaustion. “Hi,” she whispers back.

  I smile at her, gently leaning forward to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s then that I notice the mark o
n her cheek, the bruise of fingers branded on her skin.

  “What the hell happened to your face?” I bark out and she jumps in my lap.

  Cursing myself for scaring her, I hold up my hands. “I’m sorry. Jesus, I’m sorry. Daisy. What happened? Who did that to you?” I point at her cheek.

  Her eyes widen in disbelief as she drops her head to my shoulder, letting her hair swing forward, and covering her face.

  “It’s nothing.” She says, her entire demeanor so unconvincing it stings.

  “Daisy.” I lower my voice, measure my words, even though my body is coiled so tightly, I want to burst through my skin. “Love, please, tell me what happened. Who hurt you? It’s me. I know things between us are confusing and complicated. I know you probably hate me, and I’m the last guy you would confide in, but if something’s going on, if you’re in trouble or –”

  She looks up, her eyes shimmering with more tears and a sick feeling washes through me. “Daisy, please.” I beg her. I need to know what happened, if Dennis hurt her. “Tell me what you need. I’m here, love. Whatever you need.”

  “It’s Dennis.” She whispers hoarsely and my world flips.

  I knew it. Dennis was arrested for assault. When I get my hands on that stupid fucker I’m–

  “I’m okay.” Her thin voice re-centers me and I focus back on her lovely face.

  “Did he attack you?”

  “He smacked me.”

  “He assaulted you.”

  She nods, biting her bottom lip, a lone tear falling over her lower lash and dotting her cheek.

  “What do you need from me? Right now, in this moment?” I ask her quietly, no longer interested in Dennis’s arrest. Not caring if he rots in a prison cell for eternity. In this moment, my only focus, my singular concern, is Daisy.

  “I need Aaron to look at my final presentation. I need to practice my pitch.”

  “Not work, Dais. What do you need?”

  Her gaze meets mine again and the exhaustion and fear that circle her irises stabs me in the chest. Repeatedly. “I need to keep busy. I need to not think about last night.”

  “Okay.” I say slowly. “Do you want me to stay here? We can work from your flat. Or mine. Or we can go to Aunt Jenni’s house.” I throw out, wondering if she’ll feel more comfortable there. “You can practice your pitch to me. And if you’re tired, you can take a rest.” The more I talk, the more I think this is a good plan. Daisy is dead on her feet and I don’t want her heading into work and the rest of the office gawking at her or peppering her with questions once the news of Dennis’s arrest breaks. Which I’m pretty positive will occur before lunch.

  She sighs, closing her eyes, as another tear leaks out. “Sorry for crying.”

  “Don’t apologize for anything, love. Do you want to rest?”

  “Will you stay?”

  “Of course. I’ll be right here. And when you’re ready, I hope you feel like you can confide in me about what happened.” I want to put her at ease, make sure she feels comfortable. Even though I’m nauseous with worry, disgusted that Daisy was assaulted, I can’t make her talk to me if she doesn’t want to.

  “It’s stupid, really. The entire thing.”

  “It’s not stupid, Daisy. Whatever happened is not stupid.”

  She sighs and slips off of my lap, curling up into a ball on the couch next to me. “He’s made me uncomfortable for weeks.” She admits and my head snaps back at her words.

  “Weeks?”

  “Nothing ever happened, it was just a feeling. I felt uncomfortable around him.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, recalling several instances where it seemed like Daisy was uncomfortable around Dennis. Like that time at the pub. Why didn’t I say anything? Why didn’t I intervene?

  “And then last night…”

  I turn my attention back to Daisy, focus on her as she tells me about how Dennis manipulated her into attending a dinner by saying the other first-years were going, how he drank too much, how he needed to use the loo at her flat. She recounts other encounters, layering on details, shuddering whenever his name rolls off her tongue.

  I sit in silence, patiently waiting for her to share her story, even though my insides feel sick, even though a rage so powerful, it threatens to overtake me, builds in my bloodstream.“How didn’t I see this earlier?” She asks aloud when she’s finished rehashing last night’s sordid details.

  Her words cut through me and I pounce. “Don’t do that, Dais.” My voice is sharp, my control on my anger slipping.

  “Do what?”

  “Blame yourself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. You shouldn’t have had to see that Dennis would act the way he did. That’s not on you. He never should have acted like that, he never should have made you uncomfortable, he never should have pinned you down and smacked you. All of that, all of everything, is one-hundred percent on him. Do you hear me?” I lean forward, my eyes boring into hers to make sure she understands what I’m saying. That none of this, absolutely none of it, is her fault.

  She nods slowly but looks unconvinced.

  “Did you press charges?” Please say yes.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I can’t hide my grin as I stand from the couch. “Aaron messaged me this morning that Dennis was arrested.”

  “He did?” her eyes widen. “Does the entire office know?”

  I glance at my watch, noting it’s nearly noon. “Probably by now. That’s why I wanted us to stay out of the office today. So you don’t have to be hassled by everyone’s questions.”

  “Oh, thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me for this. You’ve got to know I’d do anything for you.” I pull my phone from my pocket and hold it up. “I just need to touch base with Uncle James. I’m not going to confide anything you shared. Just that Dennis needs to be fired.”

  “It’s okay.” Daisy squares her shoulders, her expression solemn. “I don’t want to hide what happened. I want Dennis to suffer the consequences of his actions. I don’t want him to do this to anyone else. Ever.”

  I regard her quietly for several moments, in complete awe of her bravery, her courage. So proud of my sweet Daisy girl. “Okay.” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Why don’t you get some rest. I’ll stay.”

  “Okay.” She disappears into her bedroom and crawls into bed.

  I dial Uncle James’s number.

  “Hello?” he answers on the third ring.

  “We need to talk.”

  30

  Daisy

  When I wake hours later, I wander out of my bedroom, relieved to see Finn sitting at my kitchen counter, working on my laptop.

  “You’re still here.”

  “I ordered Chinese takeout.” He says, pointing to a brown paper bag.

  “Thanks.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better now that I slept.”

  “Good.”

  “Did you talk to James?”

  Finn stands from his seat and moves around my kitchen, grabbing some plates and pulling out the white containers of food to prepare our plates. “You hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He smiles, “I spoke to Uncle James. Dennis has been fired, effective immediately. He admitted to attacking you and the charges you pressed should stick with no issues. He’s hiring a solicitor as we speak and he’s going to bloody need one.”

  I relax at the realization that I may never have to see Dennis again, at least, not in the office. “Thank God.”

  “He also admitted to Uncle James that he swiped your jump drive.”

  “What? Why would he do that?” my eyebrows dip in confusion although the memory of him hovering over my desk last week pops into my head.

  “He hadn’t done anything for the competition. I guess he was planning on presenting before you and using all your material.”

  I frown, my anger toward Dennis heightening with this new piece of information. “That’s so stupid
. I have everything backed up to my cloud with time stamps and everything.”

  “He’s a fucking knob.” Finn throws out, popping a plate in the microwave to warm it up.

  I scrub my hands over my face.

  “It’s okay to be angry.” Finn says, looking at me over his shoulder.

  “I know.”

  “Good. Because you’ve seemed kind of sad and not that I’m trying to tell you how to feel or anything. I’m just saying, however you feel, all of your feelings, they’re valid.”

  “I know.” I repeat. Because I do know. I’m hurt and pissed and angry and sad and confused and emotionally overwhelmed. But I’m also right in feeling that way. Picking up my phone, I glance at the messages from Cameron and Melanie. I know I need to call my brothers and Sierra but I’m not ready to share this story on repeat. It’s emotionally draining and I’m already pretty beat.

  “Here you go.” Finn sets a plate down by a barstool and grabs some utensils for me.

  “Thanks.” I slide onto the stool, my eyes still scanning my messages. My eyes stop on his name. “Hey, I never answered your message from the weekend. I meant to call you back last night but then…” I trail off, taking a sip of water from the glass Finn places in front of me.

  “It’s okay.”

  “Did you need something?”

  Finn heats his plate up in the microwave. His back is to me when he says, “I just wanted to talk.”

  “About?”

  “This may not be the best time. With everything you’ve been through and all that you’re feeling, I’d rather not overwhelm you.”

  “You could distract me.” I joke.

  “I could. But the conversation I want to have with you, I don’t want it to be a distraction. I want it to be because we’re both in the right head space.”

  My brow furrows, my curiosity piqued. “Finn.”

  “Daisy.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “A lot.”

  I snort, biting my bottom lip. “Why’d you call?”