Second Chances

by T. M. Franklin

“Thanks.”

  Carter stood up. “Let me help you get ready for bed, and I’ll get going.” He bent down to untie her shoes.

  “Or you could stay,” Kenzie offered hesitantly. “It’s late, and there’s no reason for you to drive all the way over to Noah’s.”

  “I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he said, indicating her arm.

  “I’ll be fine,” she replied with a smile. “You sleep on the left anyway.”

  Carter returned to the task of removing Kenzie’s shoes. “Okay, then. If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  He pulled off her jacket and jeans carefully, and tucked her beneath the sheets after giving her a pain pill. He shed his own clothes, crawled in on the other side of the bed, and turned out the light.

  “How’s your arm?” he asked into the darkness.

  “Not too bad . . . kind of numb. It’s not what hurts the most anyway.”

  Carter turned to her, barely making out her profile in the dim light coming through the window. “What do you mean?”

  He felt her shrug. “I just feel like an idiot, that’s all. I mean, for a writer like Jackson McKay to say I had some talent . . . it was a real ego boost, I’m not going to lie. But to find out that all he wanted was . . . Well, it’s a blow, you know?”

  Carter reached out to take Kenzie’s good hand. “Don’t give up because of him, Kenz.”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “I do know,” he said vehemently. “Kenzie, you do have a gift. You are an amazing and talented writer, and you have it in you to be bigger than Jackson McKay ever was.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

  “No, I’m not being sweet,” Carter insisted. “I’m telling you the truth, Kenzie. I believe in you. You can do this. Don’t let that piece of—” He took a breath. “Don’t let him take your dream away from you. Don’t let anyone.”

  Kenzie turned onto her side, resting her injured arm carefully on her hip. Carter could see her eyes shimmering slightly. “You really believe that, don’t you?”

  “I do.”

  “Thank you, Carter.” He felt her watching him for a moment before she added, “Would you do something for me?”

  “Anything.”

  “Would you come over here and hold me? It’s been a long time.”

  “Too long,” Carter agreed, shifting closer to her and sliding his arm carefully under her shoulders. She cuddled closer to him, her leg over his and her injured hand on his heart. He ran his fingers through her hair slowly and pressed a kiss to her head.

  “I’ve missed this,” she murmured.

  “Me, too.”

  “Good night, Carter.”

  “Good night, Kenzie.”

  Carter moved back home, and back into his bedroom. Kenzie was still hurting, and with her hand in a splint, needed some extra help around the house. She took a couple days off work, but as the pain lessened to more of a dull throb than a sharp stab, she told Carter it was time for her to go back.

  “Are you sure you’re ready?” Carter asked the night before she was scheduled to return to the classroom. They were lying in bed with Kenzie’s back tucked up against Carter’s bare chest. His arm encircled her waist as she held his hand against her stomach. “Those fourth-graders can be ruthless,” he added.

  Kenzie laughed. “I’ll be fine. I have an aide to help me out, and my students are wonderful,” she said pointedly.

  “How’s your hand? Do you need a pill?”

  He felt Kenzie shake her head under his chin. “No, I took a couple of Ibuprofen and it’s fine,” she replied. “Don’t worry so much.”

  “I just want to take care of you,” he said quietly. “I almost lost you and I don’t ever want that to happen again.”

  “Carter, it’s just a little fracture.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  Kenzie was silent for a moment. “I know.” She shifted, turning around to face him. The full moon shone through the window and Carter could barely make out her features where her head lay on the pillow next to his.

  “It wasn’t just you, Carter,” she said, her eyes glistening pools in the moonlight. “It wasn’t all your fault.”

  “But I—”

  She cut him off. “We were both there, Carter. We both did our part to drive a wedge between us.” She reached out to stroke his hair gently. “I blamed you.”

  “For what?”

  She laughed. “For everything. For getting married young. For having kids. For living in Woodlawn and not getting my Master’s . . . for giving up on writing.”

  “I didn’t make it any easier for you,” he pointed out.

  “But it was my choice,” she countered emphatically. “It was easier to blame you than to accept responsibility myself. And instead of talking to you about it, I just kept it all inside, letting the resentment build and turn me into some kind of icy b—.” She shook her head. “I was cold. I was cruel. I could hardly blame you for wanting to get out of the house.”

  “That doesn’t make it right.”

  He saw the glint of Kenzie’s teeth as she smiled wryly. “No. It doesn’t. But it does make it understandable. I pushed you away. I held on to my frustration and took it out on you.”

  “Kenzie—”

  “No . . . no, please, let me say this,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry, Carter. I’m sorry for blaming you and for cutting you out. I’m sorry that when you tried to help me out around the house all I could do was criticize. I’m sorry for turning away from you. I’m sorry for—”

  Her words were lost as Carter finally leaned over to kiss her. After a moment, he pulled back. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “But I think it’s time to be done with apologies.”

  Kenzie smiled again. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  They stared at each other in the darkness, the only sounds the ticking of the bedside clock and their quiet breathing.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking,” Kenzie whispered.

  “About what?”

  “Second chances.”

  Carter took her splinted hand carefully, kissing her fingers. “What about them?”

  Kenzie shrugged. “Just that maybe they aren’t about fixing mistakes as much as learning from them.”

  Carter smiled. “I think maybe you’re right.”

  “Carter?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve really missed you.”

  “I missed you too, baby.”

  Kenzie moved closer to him, resting her splint on his hip. “I really love it when you call me baby,” she whispered.

  “Yeah, you mentioned that,” he said with a grin.

  Suddenly the air between them changed . . . thickened . . . charged with something Carter couldn’t name, but could definitely identify. Kenzie tilted her chin, brushing her lips against his softly before sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, releasing it with a soft pop.

  “Kenzie,” he whispered, “what about your arm?”

  “My arm is fine,” she replied, sliding her good hand down between them to stroke his abdomen, lifting his shirt to caress his bare skin.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, unable to keep from pulling her closer, dipping his chin to kiss her again.

  “Carter . . . please . . .” She breathed out between increasingly desperate kisses. “You’re not going to make me beg, are you?”

  “Perish the thought,” Carter muttered on a long moan, giving in . . . giving up . . . giving over to the feelings he’d been fighting for so long. He rolled over carefully, avoiding Kenzie’s splint. After only a brief hesitation—more to savor the moment than to question it—he kissed her deeply, pressing her into the pillow as his tongue slid into her warm mouth.

  “I love you,” he whispered between her lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”

  “Me, too.” She clutched at him with her good hand, pulling him closer. “I love you so much.”

  He kissed her again, softly then deeply
, determined to make it last . . . to make a beautiful new memory for both of them. He gently moved her splinted hand so it rested on the pillow next to her head, then slid his hand down her side slowly, rubbing soft circles with his thumb.

  She used to like that.

  When she whimpered slightly, he smiled as he realized she still did.

  He pulled her night shirt up, shifting to the side so he could slide it over her head. He gasped at the sight of her bare skin, unable to resist leaning down to taste it. Kenzie clutched at his hair, arching upward with a moan and Carter couldn’t believe it was real.

  “It is,” she said, and he realized he’d said that out loud.

  She shoved at his shirt, impatient, and he tugged it over his head. With a victorious laugh, she tilted her head and sank her teeth into his bare shoulder.

  He let out a very unmanly sound and she giggled.

  Carter’s eyes narrowed, even though in the dim light Kenzie couldn’t see them. “You’re enjoying driving me crazy, aren’t you?” he accused.

  Kenzie giggled again. The sound made Carter want to shout for joy.

  “Maybe,” she replied saucily.

  “Well, two can play at that game,” he warned, moving to attack her own neck.

  They laughed and whispered in the lingering dark, rediscovering each other with each gentle touch and passionate kiss. It had been ten years since he’d been able to touch her like that, but as they said, it was like riding a bike.

  Except much, much better.

  Carter watched Kenzie as she came apart in his arms, the splinted hand by her head, the other gripping his hair wildly. He marveled at the feel of her, the taste of her skin, the sound of her heart beating, blood pulsing beneath his fingers. So real and precious he couldn’t imagine anything before or after her.

  And as they finally joined together, his eyes clenched shut as her warmth enveloped him, Carter knew he had come home.

  As he moved—slowly at first, then faster and deeper, feeling Kenzie accepting him, drawing him closer—he believed he’d found heaven.

  As he watched her—as they watched each other—eyes locked as they tipped over that precipice between pleasure and pain . . . between love and loss . . . he vowed he’d never leave her again.

  And as he collapsed next to her, tucking her into his arms and stroking her back as she drifted off to sleep, he said a silent prayer, thanking God for second chances.

  The next morning, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the joyous sound of children’s laughter filled the air.

  Okay, not really.

  It was Woodlawn, after all. It was cloudy and raining. The birds were notably absent, probably huddled under a bush somewhere to try and stay dry. As for the children, they were arguing about whether or not SpongeBob could survive in the bathtub.

  But for Carter? Yeah, it was all sunshine and rainbows.

  “Good morning,” he said with a grin as he swept into the kitchen, grabbing Kenzie and bending her over backward before planting a lingering kiss on her lips.

  “Eeewww gross!” Brady complained, all thoughts of SpongeBob forgotten as he covered his eyes.

  Carter could see him smiling, though, so he kissed Kenzie once more for good measure before setting her back on her feet. She stroked his cheek with a smile and turned back to the bacon. He stood behind her and rested his hands lightly on her hips, his chin on her shoulder.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Starving,” he growled, nuzzling her neck until she giggled. Carter chuckled, squeezing her once more before he released her and walked around to sit by the kids at the breakfast bar. Brady still had his hands on his eyes, so Carter pulled them down playfully.

  “All done,” he reassured his son.

  “Good,” Brady replied, rolling his eyes dramatically. Carter ruffled his hair and leaned in to kiss his daughter on the cheek.

  “How are you this morning, beautiful?” he asked her.

  Peyton smiled prettily. “Fine, Daddy.”

  “Hey, I have an idea,” he said, reaching out to pull her onto his lap, sliding her plate of scrambled eggs and toast over so she could reach it. “How about tonight I pick up a pizza and we have a Candy Land Championship Marathon!”

  “Yes!” Brady fist pumped as Peyton bounced excitedly on her father’s lap. “I’m gonna win!” the little boy shouted.

  “I don’t think so,” Carter warned. “I am very good at Candy Land.”

  “Daddy?” Peyton placed her palms on Carter’s cheeks, turning his face to her. “Can I be pink?”

  “Pink?”

  “The pink gingerbread man,” she explained.

  Carter nodded between her hands. “Sure, sweetie.”

  Brady spun around on his barstool. “There is no pink in Candy Land.”

  “Yes, there is,” his sister replied stubbornly.

  “Nope,” he said, tucking his feet up so he could spin faster. “Only red, blue, green, and yellow!”

  “Daddy?” Peyton turned pleading eyes toward him. He looked toward Kenzie for help, but she just shrugged at him and stirred the eggs.

  “Uh . . .” Carter floundered slightly, but then got an idea. “I’ll stop by the hardware store and pick up some paint and we’ll make a pink piece,” he said, his chest swelling at the awed look on his daughter’s face. She stuck her tongue out at Brady, who didn’t notice because he was still spinning.

  All was good.

  “I really need to go,” Carter said, his actions belying his words as he pressed Kenzie against the front door, his lips at her neck. He could hear the kids running around upstairs looking for their shoes and coats and was taking the opportunity to say goodbye properly to his wife.

  Repeatedly.

  “Yeah, you should definitely go,” Kenzie replied breathlessly, her fingers sliding into his hair as she tugged his mouth back to hers.

  “Early meeting,” he murmured into her mouth.

  “Uh huh.” Kenzie deepened the kiss, her hands dropping down to his hips, pulling him against her.

  “Oh God. Maybe I could call in sick?” Carter offered, brushing his thumb over her breast. Even through her thick sweater he could feel her respond.

  “Mmm . . .”

  “We could spend the whole day in bed.”

  “Mommy, Brady said girls are stupid!” Peyton’s outraged screech from the top of the stairs effectively ruined the mood. Still, Carter found himself smiling at the interruption. He backed away from Kenzie after one more quick kiss, just as the two children came down the stairs.

  “I did not!” Brady explained, directing his words at his father, obviously hoping another male would support his viewpoint. “I said girls do stupid things,” he clarified.

  “Well, Brady, was that a very kind thing to say?” Carter asked.

  Brady crossed his arms over his chest, betrayed by his father’s lack of manly backup. “No,” he grumbled.

  “And it’s not really true, is it? I mean, some girls do stupid things sometimes, but boys do, too, right?”

  Brady huffed in exasperation. “Right.”

  “Don’t you think a comment like that might hurt your sister’s feelings . . . or even Mommy’s?” Carter pointed out.

  Brady looked up at his mother guiltily. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know you didn’t.” Carter rubbed his son’s head. “But maybe you should make it right?”

  Brady swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.” He reached over to hug his sister quickly, then his mother. Kenzie dropped to her knees to kiss the little boy’s cheek.

  “All’s forgiven,” she said cheerfully. “Now, are we ready for school?”

  The family left the house together, Carter managing to steal one more kiss before getting into his car. He watched Kenzie and the kids in the minivan in front of him until they turned left to head to Peyton’s daycare as he continued on straight to the paper.

  Overall, he was feeling pretty good about things. He might have been new to the whol
e husband and father gig, but he seemed to be catching on. Carter whistled cheerfully through his teeth as he pulled up in front of the Weekly, winking at Sandi as he made his way to the little conference room next to his office for the morning staff meeting. After brainstorming ideas for the next issue with the rest of the staff, Carter and Ben made the initial assignments so Sandi could post them on the white board.

  Lunchtime found him daydreaming at his desk, googling ideas for Valentine’s Day. Nothing too over the top—he’d learned his lesson about that—but he definitely wanted to do something special for Kenzie. He still had a few weeks, but Carter was excited and didn’t want to leave it until the last minute.

  They could go to dinner at The Mill. The food there was actually pretty good . . . then maybe a drive up the coast to watch the sunset.

  Or maybe a picnic? They could go to the beach—or maybe out to the meadow where they used to go when they were teenagers. Carter smiled at the memory of the first time he kissed Kenzie. They’d skipped school with some friends and shared a bottle of Boone’s Farm in the meadow as they huddled under heavy blankets. He’d turned to her, extending his arm to offer her half of his blanket. When she’d snuggled next to him, he couldn’t resist leaning down to kiss her softly.

  She’d smiled up at him, and even then he knew his heart was lost.

  The meadow was definitely a good idea. No Boone’s Farm, though. He could afford a halfway decent bottle of champagne—and maybe a tent and a portable heater to keep warm. He’d have to work on that.

  Unfortunately, work kept him busy for the rest of the afternoon, giving him little time to fine-tune his plans. He did remember to call ahead to order the pizza before he left the office. Kenzie had a couple of parent conferences after school, and by the time she picked up the kids and made it home, he’d have the table set and the Candy Land game ready.

  He was about to walk out the door when a screechy call came across the scanner on Sandi’s desk. She reached over to adjust the volume, listening carefully and jotting down a few notes.

  “Sounds like a bad accident over on Division Street,” she said. “I can call Alex and get him over there.”

  Carter shook his head. Car accidents usually didn’t make the Weekly, simply because by the time the paper went to print they were old news. Still, he couldn’t ignore it. “No need,” he replied. “I have to go that way to head home anyway. I’ll check it out.”