Love Comes Home: A Collection of Second Chance Short Stories

by Kristi Rose

  “Listen up, here’s how we’re going to run the first game.” He delivered a strong strategy against an unknown opponent and fifty-five minutes later, they emerged victorious.

  ~~~~~~~

  With breaks scattered between games, several bottles of water downed, layers of sunscreen applied and more trash talk spoken than in the history of the charity, Team Two Chicks and Bacon emerged a contender for first place. Their opponent? Miller’s Auto Body.

  The game was tied, only minutes were left on the clock, and Cole had called a time out.

  “You want a win?” Cole asked, his voice raspy from hours of yelling.

  “We want a win!” the team yelled.

  Cole nodded, his eyes swinging from each player. “Then let’s take the win.” He brought his gaze to hers. “Lore, Classic William's play. Think front yard, go long to left side pocket and—”

  “Zing around the tree. Old School. I like it.” She put her hand out for the team cheer.

  “Wait, what do the rest of us do?” Andee asked.

  “Watch my moves. I’ll fake a pass to Buck and you all run it like that’s what’s happening. They’ll be trying to anticipate you. Lorelei and I will cover the rest.” Cole put his hands on top of hers and when their eyes met, he winked.

  “Team Two Chicks,” they yelled in unison.

  “Break.” Finished Cole.

  Buck and Cole pounded fists and they scattered back on the field seconds before the ref blew the whistle. Lined up for the snap, Cole called bogus plays and Buck tossed him the ball. Cole step back and faked a throw toward Buck who’d gone right, pivoted quickly on his heel, and locked eyes with Lorelei who was nearing the end zone, her arms raised, a player on her tail.

  Cole took two seconds before he launched the ball, a smooth spiral landing right in the cradle of her arms. Lorelei ran forward before making a sharp turn and heading for the end zone. Buck and Leo ran to cover her, Andee screaming for her to run.

  Lorelei crossed into the end zone seconds before the player behind her reached out to snatch her flag, tripped, and flew into her, taking them both down.

  The air horn sounded and Team Two Chicks erupted in cheers. They’d won by a touchdown. Cole ran to Lorelei, who was lying on her back still on the ground, the football clutched in her arm across her chest. The other player sat next to her.

  “We did it. We won.” He came to a stop, standing over her, his arm extended to help her up.

  “Of course we did. That move never failed us before.” She winced.

  “You ok?”

  “Yeah, though I think I might have broken my arm.”

  “I’m sorry. I tripped,” the player said.

  “It’s all right. It happens,” she told him.

  Cole knelt beside her. “What? Are you kidding me?” But he could tell by the crinkle of her eyes that she was hurt. “Are you in a lot of pain? Where’s it broken? Don’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.” He waved for the volunteer paramedics to join him and then started patting his pockets looking for his cell phone.

  “Cole, stop. You’re freaking me out. Help me sit up.”

  Gently, he moved his arm under her shoulders and eased her up, pausing with each wince.

  “I don’t need an ambulance, but I think I need to go to the ER. Can you take this football from me? Gently though, that’s the arm.”

  Cole could see splotches of color and a slight deformation near her wrist.

  “Looks like it’s your wrist.” He eased the football from her grasp, wincing himself when she gasped.

  “What’s going on here?” Andee plopped down next to Lorelei.

  “I think I broke my arm,” Lorelei told her.

  Andee’s eyes grew wide as she glanced down at Lorelei’s arm. “Oh no, it’s your whisking arm, too.”

  “I know,” Lorelei said. “But more importantly, I think I might pass out.”

  And she did just that.

  SECOND CHANCES

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Cole, I broke my arm, not my leg,” Lorelei said as he bent to lift her from the front seat of his truck.

  “I know that, I saw the X-ray. I also saw how much pain medicine they gave you and I’m surprised you’re as coherent as you are.” He carried her to her steps and waited while she dug her house key out from her purse.

  "Just drop me on the couch. I’ll be good.” She fit the key after several tries and pushed the door open.

  “Really? You’re good. You planning on sleeping in your grass-stained t-shirt for the next couple of days?” He kicked the door closed and elbowed a light switch, casting her living room in a soft glow.

  “I hadn’t thought about changing my clothes.”

  “I figured. Wow, you’ve changed a lot in here.” He set her on the couch and took in the updated living room kitchen combination.

  “Yeah, well I don’t know if you remember or not but my momma wasn’t one for cooking.” She stretched out on the couch and the pain that was creasing her face seemed to ease.

  Cole snorted. “I used to think you were the luckiest person in the world getting pizza once or twice a week. Then I started going on the road with the team and later scouting I would have killed the next man for a home-cooked meal.”

  He went into her kitchen and started opening and closing cabinet drawers.

  “What are you looking for?” she asked, never opening her eyes.

  “Scissors. The only way you’re getting that shirt off is to cut it off. You know how I told you my mom would send me some of your food? Sometimes, many times, that was the only quality food I’d get. Half the time I was too tired to bother looking for a place to eat and I’d just down a Cup of Noodles or something.” He found scissors in the drawer next to her flatware and came to stand by her. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of her wood coffee table, the scissors resting in his palm.

  “The owners of Two Chicks and Bacon thank you and are glad they could provide a bit of comfort to you on your travels,” she said and yawned. Pushing up with her left hand, she sat up and took the scissors from his palm.

  It took a few moments of her trying to figure out how she was going to use her non-dominant hand to cut off her shirt without bringing further harm to her body before she gave up and fell back against the couch.

  “I give up. I’ll just be stuck in this shirt forever.” She threw an arm over her eyes and sighed wearily.

  “I can cut it off.” Cole said.

  “No, call Andee.”

  “I’m not calling Andee to have her drive all the way over when I’m sitting right here.” He was determined to wait her out. "Besides, you freaked her out with that crazy long list of things she needed to do before y'all open tomorrow. She'll probably sleep at the diner tonight."

  “There’s no way I’m letting you cut this shirt off me. No sir.”

  He ducked his head, sighing heavily. “You’ve got to start trusting me again. Let’s start with this. I know me helping now does not even begin to make up for me not being here last time. But let me start making it up to you, Lore. I have to start somewhere.”

  “It’s over. It’s in the past.”

  He gave a wry chuckle. “Sure it is. That’s why it’s always the elephant in the room. I’m sorry; I can’t say it enough times. There’s nothing I regret more in my entire life. Nothing. And if it takes the rest of my life to do it, I’ll spend it making it up to you.”

  She uncovered her eyes and stared at him. Cole didn’t blink or waiver.

  “Until you meet the future Mrs. Williams and move on with your life—”

  Cole jumped up. “Don’t you get it? There’s no future without you. I may have had great success in my professional life but that’s mostly due to not having any other sort of life whatsoever. Just football and memories of you.”

  “Cole—” She sat up all the way and swung her legs over the cushion to sit on the edge of the couch.

  “At first I tried to
get you out of my system.” He started to pace in front of the couch, “I had football to take my mind off everything in the fall and winter but spring and summer were hard. After I sent the first few letters and emails and heard nothing back from you, I was angry. Angry with you, our parents, this town, and myself. Mad at everything I could be mad at. I tried to blame you for setting high expectations of me—”

  “That part is true.”

  Cole paused. “Excuse me?”

  “I said that part is true. The thing about me having high expectations. That’s true.”

  His mouth gaped slightly.

  “You’re high right now, aren’t you? It’s the painkillers talking.”

  She laughed and leaned back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling. “It’s the painkillers giving me the courage to say this. Remember your seventeenth birthday party when I got thrown from the tube?” She didn’t wait for him to say whether he did or didn’t remember before she continued. “You knew then that my expectations were always too high. I never thought you could do any wrong. To me, you were perfect. You said you’d let me down and I didn’t believe you. I mean, I really didn’t think it was possible at all. I said you could never let me down and you said—”

  “I said, ‘I’m human. It’s gonna happen. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.’” Cole sat down next to her and wiped the lone tear slipping out from the corner of her eye.

  “What a mess,” she said and looked at him.

  Cole nodded. “But it doesn’t have to stay a mess. Give it a second chance. Give us a second chance to see what happens. Friends, more than friends, who knows? But man, I’d love to see how it plays out. We’ll take it slow, one day at a time.”

  “Why now, Cole? Why not last year or the year before?”

  “Because now my job has more stability. I’ll still be on the road a fair amount but less than I used to be and I’m close by. I’ve never felt like I could ask you to travel to see me and leave the diner. I’d already taken so much.”

  She searched his face. “I’m scared.”

  “So am I,” he said softly. “So. Am. I. But we’ll start slowly. One trust exercise at a time.”

  She laughed and held her hand out to him, palm up. He took it in his and entwined his fingers with hers.

  “One trust exercise at a time,” she repeated.

  “We’ll begin with this shirt. I promise to do the least amount of looking humanly possible. Besides, we both need to get some shut-eye. We have to get up early because you have to teach me how to bake scones and croissants and—”

  “You don’t have to do this. Andee can—”

  “It’s not about what I have to do. It’s about what I want to do.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

  “I really missed you,” she whispered.

  “Not half as much as I missed you,” he bent his head down to gently place his lips to hers.

  SIX YEARS LATER

  EPILOGUE

  Dear Lorelei,

  It’s been twenty years since we lost our first child, our innocence, and ourselves. Today marks that loss and in my arms, I nuzzle the sweet face of our third child, Eliza Jane. Though I will always wonder what our first child would have been like and it hurts that we will never know, I find comfort in the faces of our son and now our daughter and know that our lost one is in them both.

  My love, you continue to give to me in ways that I can never reciprocate. Why I have been gifted this blessing of a second chance with you and these little people that make up our family, I will never know, but will always be thankful and will endeavor to show you all how much you mean to me on a daily basis.

  You are my light, my love, my hope and I am the man I have always wanted to be because of the love you give me.

  Forever yours,

  Cole

  Lorelei folded the letter and tucked it behind the one he’d given her last year and the year before and so on. She’d read them all, more than once and through them found forgiveness, acceptance, and love. She’d found Cole.

  ~ THE END

  Once Again

  A Coming Home Short Story

  Kristi Rose

  Vintage Housewife Books

  FARMINGTON, MO

  Copyright © 2015 by Kristi Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Vintage Housewife Books

  PO BOX 841

  Farmington, MO 63640

  www.kristirose.net

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Book Layout © 2014 BookDesignTemplates.com

  Cover Design © 2015 Paper and Sage Designs

  Edited by Paige Christian

  Formerly titled: FOREVER HIM

  Once Again/ Kristi Rose. -- 1st ed.

  For my critique group: Anya, Eryn, Gary and Rick. You all are amazing.

  THANK YOU <3

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE 61

  CHAPTER TWO 73

  CHAPTER THREE 83

  CHAPTER FOUR 96

  CHAPTER FIVE 109

  EPILOGUE 117

  Word of the day:GAMBLE-Any matter or thing involving risk or hazardous uncertainty.

  CHAPTER ONE

  No matter how hard Evie Barker tried to manage each day, this one had gotten away from her. It had started as soon as she arrived at the nursing home where she worked, but before the actual paid portion of her day began. Like she did every day, she’d stopped by her momma’s room to feed her the specially made oatmeal she picked up from her favorite diner, Two Chicks and Bacon. But momma had been out of sorts. Crying, refusing to eat, and escalating to such a state of inconsolability she’d required a sedative.

  From there the day went to hell fast and included a patient falling in the shower—thankfully not while she was providing therapy—and a rampant, building-wide stomach bug, which made everyone, residents and staff, short tempered at best. The day’s tone spoke of a foreboding of tonight’s full moon or perhaps worse, an omen of “something wicked this way comes.”

  Pulling in her driveway, she forgot the disaster of the day and the state of her stained scrubs as she stared at the large U-Haul parked at the family-home-turned-frat-house next door. An old lobster trap, a telescope, an olive green trunk, and a lamp made from an old musket with a fringed shade were in the yard.

  Those items could go either way. Was it possible her new neighbor was an old man and not a college student?

  She wanted to cheer. A nice, quiet old man who would prune his bushes and keep to himself. Evie buried her face in her hands. What in the world was wrong with her that she was excited that her new neighbor might be elderly? She hated that after a year of neighbors who were frequently seen in the buff as they streaked down the street or hosted all night beer pong championships, she was desperate for the polar opposite. Yes, a nice old man who took advantage of the early bird special, played shuffleboard, and if she were lucky—after the day she had that was doubtful—one who would keep his eyes on the neighborhood would be a delight. Evie’s gaze settled on the telescope. Yeah, keep his eyes on the neighborhood by using his telescope to look into other’s windows?

  She weighed the probabilities: creepy old man, nice old man, college student. The odds didn’t look favorable.

  Chewing the edge of her thumbnail, eyes narrowed, she considered her options and tallied the risks. Normally, Evie would go inside and hope for the best, but after two weeks of peace and quiet, she wasn’t about to leave it to chance the new renters would be dream neighbors. Her hydrangea bushes were still suffering PTSD. Apparently, the last occ
upants thought vomit was fertilizer. She couldn’t rely on the hope word had spread on campus that this neighborhood was unfriendly for all-night raves. She needed to make sure, in no uncertain terms, these new neighbors knew there would be no funny business happening in that house. This was a respectable neighborhood.

  Today's pick on her word-of-the-day app, Gamble, was the ideal word for her, especially as her current resolution was to mix things up. This new neighbor situation was the perfect opportunity to do just that and stretch her comfort zone. But for Evie, a creature of habit, risk was a filthy, bad word, belonging in the same family as madness, hysteria, and turmoil, and it gave her heartburn. She took three deep yoga breaths.

  Honestly, there was no better time to go against her normal inclination of hiding in her house and waiting to see what would happen. Hadn’t she decided her life was dull and she needed to mix things up a little? Isn’t that why she’d cut seven inches off her hair, broken up with her duller-than-dull boyfriend? Because she knew little things needed to change. If she was going to have a constant internal conversation about changing her life then she’d better start right now, with the opportunity that had nearly fallen on her doorstep.

  After getting out of the car, she eased the door closed, paused, opened it and gave it a good slam before straightening her spine and rallying her courage. Evie adopted what she hoped was a good impersonation of her take-no-shit friend Lorelei’s resting bitch face and, using long strides, walked across her yard and into the neighbor’s.

  Seriously, a lamp made from an old shotgun? Who bought that stuff?

  “Hello,” Evie called out and stepped into the opened garage. “Hello?” She felt her expression slip. The longer her calls went unanswered the more effort it took to keep the look going. She sucked in a deep breath and tried again, placing her hands on her hips for added emphasis.