Last Second Chance

by Caisey Quinn

She hadn’t even given him a chance to say that he loved her too.

  “She what?” Van stared at the man across the desk.

  “Resigned, Mr. Walker.”

  He shook his head. “Cut the fucking Mr. Walker shit. You know who I am.”

  They’d come for him a few hours after she’d left. Searched his place and found nothing. Except the red panties he liked to tie her wrists with.

  Van had raised an eyebrow when one of the orderlies held them up. “What I wear on the weekends is my business,” he told the young guy, probably giving him a very unpleasant mental image of Van in those panties.

  Dr. Ramirez shifted in his seat, returning his attention to the present. Van figured he was taking inventory of his breakable belongings. Smart man.

  “She emailed me just over an hour ago. Said something had come up at home and that she was needed on her family’s ranch.”

  Bullshit. Van wanted to scream. Bull-fucking-shit. She’d told him enough that he knew that wasn’t true.

  The doctor acknowledged Van’s surfacing rage with sympathetic eyes. “She would’ve been let go, Mr. Ransom. And you would’ve been released for inappropriate conduct with an employee. She knew that. It’s all very clear in our employee conduct policy. She did the right thing. Can’t say we won’t miss her. But it was best for everyone.”

  Like hell it was.

  Van stood abruptly. What was the fucking point of all of this? Needing her? Letting her in? She knew his story, knew about Val. And she’d taken the fuck off anyways. Maybe that was what had finally driven her away. She’d given up on him. He couldn’t really blame her. He’d given up on himself a long time ago.

  “She left this for you.” Dr. Ramirez slid a white envelope across the table. “She gave it to Dr. McLendon, but Miranda suspected you might not wait around for her to give it to you.”

  Smart lady. He half-hated these intellectually superior people pegging him as if he were suddenly the picture of predictability.

  But he took the envelope, catching a whiff of her scent as he did, and his anger began to dissipate.

  “I’ll let you read it in privacy.” Before the doctor left, he held the door half open and made eye contact with Van. “Son, I’ve lived a few more decades than you. So at the risk of you destroying my office, I’m going to give you some advice.”

  Van nodded, her letter burning a hole in his hand.

  “Sometimes, it’s best to accept someone as they are. And sometimes, it’s necessary to allow them the time they need to become the best version of themselves.”

  His chest heaved as his breathing elevated. “I don’t know which one of us you’re referring to exactly.”

  The man met his stare and Van got the ‘my point exactly, dumbass’ sentiment immediately.

  The door closed with a gentle click, and Van opened her letter. He wanted to tear through it, to devour every word. And at the same time, he wanted to read it at a snail’s pace. Slowly savor the one thing he had left of her.

  The paper was stiff and creased. The noise grated against his exposed nerves as he unfolded it.

  My Dearest Mr. Walker,

  My hands are shaking as I write this. Because I know how very angry you’re going to be at me. I know how shameful it must look for me to leave this way, stealing our goodbye like a thief in the night. And I am praying this doesn’t hurt you in the way that losing your angel of darkness did. Because this is not goodbye forever. I hope you see that.

  Please know, if there were any other way, I would have done it differently. But the ranch has policies, and they have proof. We were not always careful and I take full responsibility for that. I lost myself in you, in us. And I’m not sorry. Because in losing myself, I found my soul. But if I would’ve cost you your career, rendered all of your hard work these past few months pointless, I never would’ve forgiven myself. Please try and understand. This was the only way.

  I didn’t say goodbye because my hope is that when you have finished the program at SCR, when you have returned to your real life, your rock star existence, you will think of me. Because you can be certain, whenever your plane touches down or the stage lights go up, in those brief moments of silent stillness, I will be thinking of you. Always.

  You are so much stronger than you believe yourself to be. I am so grateful that you shared your strength with me. I am going home in hopes of discussing Grace’s Haven with my parents. You were right. It’s time to find my own way. Just as you will find yours. No more hiding from my future. I can only wish on stars in hopes that you’ll be a part of it. I didn’t say goodbye because I refuse to believe that our story is over. It will never end, because you are a part of me. A permanent part. You were right. I belong to you. Our paths will cross again. Because I love you. I am yours always. No matter where we are.

  Love,

  Your Cowgirl

  Her letter clutched in one hand. He used the other to shatter every piece of glass within reach.

  It all had to be broken. Like his heart.

  But because he’d actually grown a conscience at some point, he left a quick note assuring Dr. Ramirez that he would pay for the damages. That was the easy part.

  I won’t run, she’d said. But she had.

  How he would repair the damage she’d done to him, he had no idea.

  “He checked out last week, Stella. He might get billed for a few thousand dollars in damages, but he completed the program successfully.”

  She let out a huge sigh of relief at Miranda’s words, though she could only imagine what he’d damaged. “Thank God. I was so worried that my leaving would…” She couldn’t finish. It felt arrogant to assume he wouldn’t be okay without her. That her absence would break such a strong man.

  “He’s hurting, that’s for sure,” her friend said softly. “You know I can’t reveal anything said in therapy. But I can tell you that he came to say goodbye to me, and he asked if I’d spoken to you.”

  Stella’s heart leapt into her throat. “He did? What did you say?” she croaked out over the wounded organ in her esophagus.

  “I told him about your parents selling the ranch and that it was of my professional opinion that he should get his life settled and contact you when he felt ready.”

  Stella nodded even though her friend couldn’t see her through the phone. “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a favor, Stella. It was the truth.”

  She wiped at the slick tears leaking down her cheeks. “Still on for drinks next weekend? I might be a penniless vagrant, but I’ll splurge on wine and barbecue nachos.”

  Miranda laughed. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll even buy.”

  Stella was thankful that she’d managed to maintain an actual friendship. “Gee, thanks. But don’t be expecting anything just because you buy me dinner and drinks. I might be on the rebound, but I’m not that easy.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, there’s one more thing about…about Van.”

  Hearing his name, his real name, stole the air from her lungs. “Y-yeah?”

  “It’s been all over the entertainment news channels,” Miranda began. “I don’t know what happened, but he left his band—or maybe they kicked him out. It hasn’t been confirmed either way. But word is they’re going by Hostage now and supposedly he’s going solo.”

  Stella’s heart quivered. He was all alone in his corner again. Battling that invisible enemy with no one watching his back.

  She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer that someone, somewhere would watch over him. Over both of them.

  “Thanks, Miranda. I need to finish packing, but thank you for the call. And I’ll see you next weekend.”

  They said their goodbyes and Stella sank to the cold hardwood floor.

  Leaving him might have been the biggest mistake of her life, but she’d never regret loving him. Even if he never came back to her.

  Her parents having left already without much fanfare, other than making her promise to visit, Stella was spending the remainder
of her time down at the stables saying her goodbyes to the horses when the black SUV rumbled into the driveway.

  Lady Marmalade had been enjoying the attention too much for Stella to just walk out. That had been her one stipulation of the sale. The new owner had to keep the horses and see to their care and upkeep.

  Unfortunately Stella hadn’t been able to match his offer, and her parents were nothing if not practical.

  She knew she was running out of time and there was still so much to do. Finish packing her things. Sign the lease on her new apartment. Email her résumé to half a dozen companies or more. Update her online employee profile. The money she’d made at the Second Chance Ranch wouldn’t last much longer. The security deposit on the apartment and the company moving her things to her new place would take most of it.

  She was determined not to touch the portion of the money her parents had given her from the sale of the ranch. She still held out hope that Grace’s Haven would happen one day. Even if it was on a much smaller property. That was her startup fund.

  She held her hand to her eyes as the sun shone directly into them. Maybe it was the panic of realizing she was unemployed, very nearly homeless, and heartbroken that pissed her off so much. Whatever loaded old man had bought her mother’s—and technically her—legacy was an entire day early. As if he couldn’t wait to stake his claim. Dick.

  The papers were signed and it was a done deal. But this was still a day before the contracted date and she didn’t have to be nice about it.

  Emotion clogged her throat as she surveyed the land one last time. Her dream of turning it into a facility for women like Grace and Van’s sister, women who needed a safe place until they figured things out, dissolved before her eyes. A part of her would always love this place, the sprawling hills, the privacy. She’d taken for granted that it would always be waiting for her, mistook it for a burden instead of the blessing it was, and she’d missed out on enjoying it for almost five years now.

  No sense crying in front of a stranger over something she couldn’t change. Her stupid hopeless mind began to try and conjure possible ways she could raise enough money to buy the ranch back from the man stepping out of the vehicle. He must’ve been important because the driver had exited quickly and practically jogged around to open his door.

  Dark denim covered the legs of a man much younger than what she’d pictured stepping out of the back seat. Familiar ink adorned the parts of his arms that were visible under a black short-sleeved shirt. She wondered if maybe she’d had a stroke and passed out. Seeing him carrying a bouquet of lavender and hyacinth was like witnessing a mirage in the middle of the desert. Stella barely trusted her legs to carry her, but somehow they made their way toward him.

  “Van? What are you doing here?” Her voice trembled almost as much as her legs did.

  “I own here.” His jaw tensed as she approached. Like he was prepping for battle. “Happy birthday, cowgirl.”

  Her heart stuttered and then tripped over itself while trying to find its rhythm. Mouth dry, she licked her lips. “You what? I don’t understand.”

  His mouth twitched. “I bought it. For you. It’s yours. Since I never got you a birthday present. Consider me the very first investor in Grace’s Haven.” Her eyes filled with tears and he misunderstood. “Baby, don’t cry. If you don’t want it, that’s okay too. But your note said—”

  He didn’t get to finish. Stella had taken off running and thrown herself into his arms. She crushed her lips to his, pouring her love and gratitude into their kiss until she was dizzy from the need to breathe.

  “I accept. On one condition.”

  Van leaned back slightly. “Oh yeah? And what’s that, cowgirl?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I know you have to travel for your rock star gig and all. I get that. But when you’re not on the road, I need you here. With me.”

  His answering smile was breathtaking. “I think we can work something out. But I have a condition of my own.”

  Stella arched a brow, knowing good and well she would have agreed to pretty much anything he wanted in that moment.

  “I know you’re my cowgirl and you want to spend all your time with those four- legged monstrosities, but when I have to go on the road, I need you with me. I love you, Stella Jo. The band wasn’t going to change their lifestyle for me. And I’m never going to be a saint. I have to do this on my own. But I need you, baby. Only you.”

  “Van—”

  “I won’t make promises I can’t keep, Stella Jo. I might relapse. I might have to go back into rehab.”

  She nodded. “And I might get crazy jealous of a groupie and set all of your shit on fire.”

  His laughter warmed her from the inside out. Filled the space that had long been empty. “I might love you for the rest of my life.”

  “I might let you.”

  “As long as we both shall live.” Van’s words were kissed into her mouth, and she took them. Readily.

  “You were wrong, Mr. Ransom. We are going to live happily ever after,” she whispered.

  Van grinned as he set her down and pulled her by the hand toward the barn. “Now show me where we keep the riding crops, cowgirl.”

  “Wait.” She stopped short. “I have to ask you something.”

  He nodded. “Anything, baby.”

  “Do you think everyone deserves a second chance?” Her skin tingled as she waited for his answer.

  “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She stepped forward into his arms. “Van?” When his eyes met hers, she placed her hands on either side of his face. “I won’t need another one. You’re mine. And I’m yours. Forever. Come what may.”

  Van grinned and kissed her gently. “I like that. Come what may. Maybe I’ll name my next album that.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” She paused to pull in as much air as her lungs could handle. “We’re naming our daughter May. It’s when she’s due. Unless you want to name her Valerie.”

  She almost fell down with him as he staggered. “Our what?”

  “Surprise,” she whispered.

  Van closed his eyes and shook his head. The sun shone onto him as he dropped down to worship her on his knees.

  “I am not worthy,” he told her, looking up into worried eyes. “But I will spend my life trying to be.”

  She lifted his hand to the tiny bump protruding between her hips. “We are yours. You belong to us. You will be worthy. Or I will let Shadowdancer trample your ass.”

  Van stood slowly and glanced over to the stalls. “No. Please tell me you didn’t really bring that beast here?” He gaped at her. “It’s like you’re trying to kill me. A baby and now this. Damn, Stella Jo.” He huffed out what she assumed was a breath of defeat. “What is it with that horse?”

  She rolled her eyes as she pulled him towards the stables, eager to begin their life together.

  “I have a thing for dark horses with tortured souls. What can I say?”

  As it so happened, the road wasn’t necessarily the best place for a relationship to thrive. Or a family. Which was why he only toured six months out of the year. A cramped, albeit luxury tour bus didn’t exactly give a baby room to grow. And it certainly didn’t give him the room to tie Stella up everywhere he’d like and have his way with her as thoroughly as he preferred. But they made do. He’d become quite creative as a result. He grinned to himself as he remembered untying her wrists from the showerhead the night before.

  Not everything ran as smoothly as their sex life though. Shows ran late. Faulty equipment caused problems. May had gotten a hellacious ear infection that meant no sleep for anyone for two weeks. Shit was hectic. But Stella kept him balanced. Calmed him when things spiraled out of control. Talked him down from the ledges when he wanted to walk away, get wasted, and say to hell with it all.

  She amazed him by shouldering the demandingly rigorous schedule, the hours of sitting backstage while he performed, the overaggressive female fans that snuck past security who she’d come face to
face with more than once. She’d dealt with those situations with her firm but elegant grace and unfailing strength. He hadn’t fully realized just what she was capable of handling—both in the bedroom and out of it. The more she was tested, the more she thrived.

  The show that Vanessa had shown up to had been particularly enlightening.

  After bitching her way past security, Vanessa had accosted them backstage after a concert in LA. Stella had been hugely pregnant yet not intimidated in the least.

  “Van,” Vanessa had whined. “I just want to talk. You can’t just cut me out like this. What about—”

  It was then that Stella had moved between them and put her hand up. “If you even think of using his dead sister to make him feel guilty for kicking your crazy ass to the curb, so help me, I’ll make what you did to that girl in Omaha look like a hug.”

  Van had watched the women facing off, ready to jump in should Stella or his unborn child appear to be in danger. But his cowgirl held her own.

  “He has a family now. You’re not a part of it. Go find one of your own.” She’d stared Vanessa down until the woman shot him one last glare and slunk away.

  “Enjoy your baby mama drama,” Vanessa had muttered.

  “Oh I intend to,” he’d said to her retreating figure as he’d wrapped his arms around Stella.

  “I don’t think we’ll be seeing her again,” she had assured him.

  His tiny protector. A shield of armor that took no shit off anyone. Not even him. She accepted everything that came along with him, accepted him however he came.

  Not that she didn’t make him work his ass clean off on that damn ranch when they got home to make up for all of it. But he wouldn’t change a single thing. They led two lives, two beautifully crazy lives, but they lived them together and that was all that mattered.

  The road was an adventure. The ranch was an oasis.

  Every magazine he appeared on the cover of declared him to be living the dream. And he was. But they were wrong about a few things. The dream wasn’t playing to thousands of fans, selling out arenas, or having an acoustic album that had gone double platinum. The dream was waking up with her—wherever they were. Having morning coffee with her. Hearing her contented sighs of pleasure every night before he drifted off to sleep. It was more than he deserved, but some higher power had seen fit to give him Heaven on Earth. He liked to think that Val was smiling down on him. On them. All three of them.