by Vesper Young
First Love, Second Chance
Vesper Young
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events reside solely in the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.
© 2020, Vesper Young. No portion of this work can be reproduced in any way without prior written consent from the author with the exception for a fair use excerpt for review and editorial purposes.
Table of Contents
1. Kara
2. Kara
3. Lucas
4. Kara
5. Lucas
6. Kara
7. Lucas
8. Kara
9. Lucas
10. Kara
11. Lucas
12. Kara
13. Lucas
14. Kara
15. Kara
16. Lucas
17. Kara
18. Kara
19. Lucas
20. Kara
21. Lucas
22. Kara
23. Lucas
24. Kara
25. Lucas
26. Kara
Epilogue
Author’s Note
1. Kara
Ten Years Ago
I woke up slowly, enjoying the delicious tenderness I felt all throughout my body. Luke’s bed was cozy, the scent of his conditioner clinging to the pillow I rested on, familiar and gentle. Luke himself was absent. I was used to him being up early. He loved coding first thing in the morning, though he’d usually come back to bed for it. From the sound of the shower running a few feet over, he wasn’t far away.
The smile that had been forming on my face fled when I opened my eyes and took in the room. The bed was the same as it had always been. But the rest of the room was gone. Or, more accurately, it was in boxes. Next to the tidy pile of boxes, sat a large suitcase and carry-on. I couldn’t pretend this was any other Saturday where we’d laze in each other’s arms.
Because he was moving. Today. He’d gotten a job at one of those billion-dollar tech companies in California, and they were adamant that he start right after graduation. They had even paid him a relocation fee. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, and for months I’d been excited right along with Luke, even encouraging him to take it. He’d always loved computers. Some nights I’d wake up to him lying next to me, laptop bright. He’d apologize for waking me, but I loved hearing him talk about his passion. What he really wanted was to form his own company, and a couple of years networking at this job would give him the chance he needed.
But he’d entertained the idea of turning them down. For me.
I’d told him that was ridiculous. He was too smart to waste his life with me, though I didn’t say that out loud because that would’ve sparked an argument I didn’t have the energy for.
The bathroom door opened, and the steam billowed out. There was my Luke, towel wrapped around his hips. I grinned.
People might stereotype nerds as skinny and short but that was absolutely not the case with Luke. His chest was exposed, revealing abs that hadn’t gone away even after the late-night pizza we’d pigged out on. His face was freshly-shaved, smirking while he watched me take in his whole body.
He wasted no time crossing the room. When he got back in the bed, it wasn’t next to me, but on top. I involuntarily arched to push my body closer to his. I wanted as little space between us as possible.
“Like what you see?” he teased, his voice low and gravely.
I nodded, then reached to trace the muscles in his arm with my fingers and his body shivered in response. I liked the effect I had on Luke. Made me feel better about the effect he had on me. Nothing came close to the way I felt with him. I doubt you ever feel that way about more than one person.
It sucked he was moving. It sucked I still had three more years of school. I’d toyed with the idea of transferring colleges to be closer, though I didn’t voice that out loud either. Luke would have shut it down.
And maybe deep down I worried he wouldn’t want me there. The world was going to open up, and having a coed as a steady girlfriend would slow him down. Besides, the hours he’d be working would be crazy and as selfish as it was, I didn’t think I could do a relationship where I was just a part-time girlfriend.
Luke pressed himself against me and I opened up for him, holding him close, feeling every inch of his body as if I could tattoo his touch over every part of me. He was already carved on my heart.
We stayed in bed until we had to rush to the airport, and I stayed with him until the stupid TSA people insisted I couldn’t go any further.
I watched him walk away. He looked back once, dropped his luggage, and rushed towards me, capturing my lips in a kiss that brought tears to my eyes. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was our goodbye.
“I love you,” he breathed.
I nodded back, barely able to speak. “I love you too.”
I watched him walk away a second time. This time he didn’t turn around.
He walked, and I tried to memorize everything about him. His hair color, his size, his shape.
Because I suspected that would be the last time I ever saw Lucas Northman, and it hurt like hell.
2. Kara
Now
The TV droned on in the living room while I got into my uniform. I’d missed the past few days of work because Ryan had been sick with some awful bug. I hoped I hadn’t caught it. Third graders were vectors for disease and I couldn’t afford to give up more shifts.
I pulled my hair back into a standard ponytail, the second to last step before heading out. From the other room, I listened to the lady on TV mention some tech company that had sold for an unholy amount of money. Good for them, I thought. As long as they paid their workers fairly, of course.
Then she mentioned who the founder was. I dropped my brush and rushed to the living room. The remote was missing—Ryan’s latest gimmick was hiding it in the furniture—and I didn’t feel like wasting time ripping cushions off the sofa to look. I unplugged the TV.
I hadn’t heard that name in almost a decade.
I went back to the bathroom and haphazardly finished the ponytail, no longer caring if every strand lay flat against my head. I examined my face in the mirror. There was a flustered red covering my face, eliminating the need for blush. Just the mention of his name provoked a physical reaction.
I tried to wipe away that name, repeating my son’s name over and over to myself as if that would get rid of it.
Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.
A glance at my watch said it was time to go, so I rushed out. The bus closed its doors just as I exited our apartment building. Seriously, today was the day it ran ahead of schedule? I sprinted after it. The driver was merciful, and at the next red light, let me on.
The Rattler was about twelve blocks away. Sometimes I would walk the distance to keep fit and clear my head, but with the weather cooling down and a recovering child, I couldn’t afford to weaken my immune system. Yup, I was being responsible.
I wondered when that had really happened. It hadn’t been completely instinctive. Sometimes I wanted to let loose in the worst way.
But the moment I’d held Ryan in my arms, I’d known deep in my bones I would do anything for him. I was all he had, and he was the only thing that truly mattered to me.
So I would take the bus and stay out of the cold. Because that’s what moms do.
When I got off at my stop and headed into the Rattler, I immediately caught sight of Amelia. She gestured for me to come over.
“Hey, stranger,” she said with a smile. She tried to pull me into a hug but I resisted.
�
��Hey, girl. You don’t wanna touch me—Ryan’s been sick.”
“That’s fine.” Not losing her smile, she drew me in close.
Amelia didn’t have to worry about getting sick. Sometimes I envied her. But I waved the thought off; I’d made the decisions I’d made and I was happier for them. I wouldn’t have traded Ryan for the world and if having to worry about catching a cold was the price, so be it.
The reality was, there’d been a steeper price I usually avoided thinking about. The stupid newscaster had reminded me about him this afternoon and I wanted desperately to repress it.
“So, have you heard?”
I shook my head, not knowing what Amelia was referencing.
“Samson sold the bar!” Her voice was excited. Amelia loved anything new and different.
Me? I worried about my job.
“It was super sudden,” she continued. “I got Samson to clue me in at the end of last night’s shift. He’s been very hush-hush, but I knew something was up. He was smoking, and he only does that when he’s stressed, usually because he thinks his checks are gonna bounce. But the electric wasn’t due for another two weeks, so I knew that wasn’t it, so I made him tell me.”
Amelia was almost too observant sometimes. I half-listened to her while my mind wandered. I took inventory of the dingy bar. We didn’t open for another half hour, but when we did there would be a steady trickle of regulars coming in. The furniture had seen better days. Heck, better years. A few other servers moved about, getting ready for the evening rush.
“Are you listening?” She wasn’t annoyed, just checking in.
“Sorry,” I apologized. “I’m a bit preoccupied.”
“Well, you’re gonna want to get occupied with this. So this dude—totally from the West Coast, he has that Silicon Valley vibe, but in a sexy way—made Samson a huge offer. You know Samson likes the Rattler, but it’s a struggle. So they work out a deal and this guy is gonna be the new owner and take over. Samson is staying on a few days to transition and then he’s moving to Vietnam. Vietnam. Can you believe it?”
I blinked in disbelief. “Wow.”
“I know, right? I’m kind of excited though. The new owner is hot with a capital H.” She winked at me.
Amelia was fun, flirty, and drop-dead gorgeous. The only thing she liked better than getting the scoop on the latest news was getting a scoop of her latest conquest. She’d hooked up with half the wait-staff here, but somehow she managed to avoid burning bridges and kept a smile on everyone’s face.
I wondered what that would be like. I’d dated, on rare occasions. In the end, it never really seemed worth the trouble of finding Ryan a sitter. Nothing serious or noteworthy.
Sometimes I thought I was ruined by one man. The one I couldn’t have. The one I’d let walk away.
Ugh. Enough of that thinking.
Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, I reminded myself.
“So, when do we meet the new owner?” I asked Amelia.
She glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes ‘til opening.
“Should be right about now.”
No sooner had she spoken then the door to the back office opened. First, Samson walked out. He seemed lighter, happier. Words that had never before applied to the stout, sober owner. Apparently he’d been bought out to his satisfaction.
Behind him was the last person I’d ever expected to see.
Lucas Northman.
Ryan’s father.
Oh. My. God.
How was he here?
He looked different from how he’d been in college. Older. More mature. If it was possible, even more attractive than I remembered. But he still had the same gleam in his eye he got when he was taking on a new project.
I’d fallen in love with that look. I’d spent hours listening to him talk about his plans and dreams, our bodies wrapped around each other. He’d been kind enough to include me in those dreams, but I knew it was just that—him being kind. Luke was the type of man who was going places, but I wasn’t the type of girl who could follow.
But now he was here. In my bar. His bar, now? A flash of recognition crossed his face when his gaze landed on me. But maybe I imagined it. It had been so long, how could he know it was me?
Dear Lord, how of all places was he here?
“Folks,” Samson started, before a coughing fit interrupted him. “Folks, this is Lucas Northman. He’s gonna be taking over ownership of this joint. He’s a good sort, or I wouldn’t trust him with the Rattler. Lucas?”
Luke nodded once in acknowledgment. “That’s right. To start, I don’t want anyone getting worried. No one is getting fired or laid off. Samson’s told me good things about you all. Over the next few weeks, contractors will come in to remodel the bar and I’ll be doing some rebranding, but it’ll still be the same bar everyone knows and loves.”
His voice was firm, authoritative. In the years since we’d parted ways, Luke had become used to being in charge. I hated how I reacted to hearing his voice. He kept talking, and I could just imagine him saying my name, whispering it, groaning it, rasping it when he said good morning to me.
Ryan, Ryan, Ryan. I chastised myself. No, just because Luke was here didn’t mean we could pick up where we’d left off. That was the last thing that could happen.
Instead, I tried to find something to dislike. Because I liked too much about Luke and who he’d been, I needed to nitpick. Like what did he mean by ‘rebrand’? The Rattler wasn’t some swanky up-town bar, and we’d never be one. Okay, according to Amelia we were barely breaking even some months, but who cares? The tips were decent and the customers were loyal.
Maybe Luke had gotten used to things being different in Silicon Valley, but that’s not how we did them here.
Then I felt guilty for the thought. I’d wanted that for him. I’d known his passion and dedication. His drive to improve things was something truly special.
Special or not, being face-to-face with that drive was a knife to the heart right now.
I was once again lost in my thoughts, only brought back by Amelia tugging on my shoulder so we could start working this evening.
3. Lucas
She was here.
Here. In front of me. And I was rambling about the fucking bar like an idiot. Samson dismissed the staff since it was about time to open. I hadn’t seen her since the day she drove me to the airport and I’d kissed her goodbye. Ten years. It had been ten long years, where I’d grinded through achievement after achievement, each one ringing hollow. They hadn’t been at first—I’d felt some pride, but after a few years it turned stale. That was growing up, right? Life gets dull. Hollow. Except Kara was here. Just the sight of her disproved everything I thought about life being dull and stale.
I wanted to grab Kara and talk to her and feel her against me. To remember what we’d had, to ask what happened to us, what she had done in the time since then, and how it was possible we were both in the same down-trodden Manhattan bar.
Instead she wasted no time getting to work and Samson pulled me aside to give me the rundown. Reluctantly, I followed.
I wished I hadn’t, because I was stuck in the back office for the next half hour listening to him go over more tricks of the trade. Any other time, I would’ve been glad to have his advice. But today, with Kara Iver closer than she’d been in the past decade, I didn’t give a shit about what pearl of wisdom he was passing down. At the moment, he was telling me how important a personal connection with the staff was, but not to let it get too personal or else you could lose good people.
I thanked Samson and told him I’d try out his advice, starting now. Which was a bald-faced lie. I intended to get very personal with one employee.
Once free from the office, I went out to find her. It wasn’t hard—Kara was one of two bartenders on deck. And she was surrounded by patrons who seemed to permanently need their drinks refilled.
I watched her for a moment. She moved fluidly behind the bar, answering the rush of orders seamlessly. She’d always been capable,
tackling new challenges with confidence and executing them, in not flawlessly, then in a way that challenged anyone to critique her. Seeing her again stunned me, even from a distance.
I’d woken up a month ago desperate for a change. I got like that sometimes. I tried to fix it with fast cars usually, sometimes with fast women. Neither really fixed anything. I wanted more. Needed more. My company had gone as far as I could take it, so I looked into selling it. Since I’d always wanted to run a bar, among other aspirations, I found one and bought it. Maybe deep down I’d needed to return to New York, to where I’d met Kara.
But none of those things really mattered. No one and nothing compared to the rush that was Kara Iver. For years after we split, I would wake up in the middle of the night, thinking about her, aching for her. I’d convinced myself she was better off without me, even if I was a thousand times worse off without her.
But now she was here. Kara had looked deceptively delicate in college. Tall, so lean she bordered on scrawny, but with a core of steel. Over the years, she’d filled out a bit. Her tight black pants hugged her hips. Her shirt stretched taut across her chest when she leaned over to pour a drink. Her ponytail just grazed the back of her neck as she moved behind the bar. Hell, the truth was no matter how much she’d changed—or hadn’t—she’d always be the sexiest woman alive.
Which was a problem because it was going to be damn impossible to stay away.
I tried to make my way over to talk to her. A short red-headed waitress picked up the latest tray and flashed me a flirty smile. I tried not to scowl back. It wasn’t her fault I was ticked at all the guys surrounding Kara. I settled for a nod, which just made the waitress smile more.
I turned back to look at Kara. I would’ve sworn out of the corner of my eye I’d seen her head move, but if she had been looking, she was now pointedly ignoring me.
I tried to find a moment to talk to her over the course of her shift. Somehow, despite everyone else getting to take their break or at least take a minute to breathe off to the side, Kara managed to be busy at every single moment. Either giving change or mixing drinks or chatting with progressively more intoxicated customers that kept glancing at her chest in a way that made me want to deck them.