A Second Chance for Lovin'

by Kaety Porter

  A

  Second Chance

  for Lovin’

  By: Kaety Porter

  “If you love someone, set them free. If they come back

  they’re yours; if they don’t they never were”

  -Richard Bach

  © 2019 by Kaety Porter

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Chapter 1

  Tristan

  January

  “Dude, why don’t you head on out, I’ll finish up these reports.”

  “Thanks man. I got some place to be, so this is great.”

  Being the good guy that I am I stayed and finished up the reports. They really didn’t take all that long; just another thirty minutes or so.

  Who knew that those would be my famous last words to my partner. Actually, let me rephrase, those were the last civilized words to my partner. Now, as I head out of the locker room, having gone in there to clean up, change and head home I both wish I hadn’t let Tripp get out of writing reports and I’m glad that I did. If I hadn’t let him leave, I wouldn’t have caught him banging my girlfriend in the men’s locker room. However, I’m glad that I did, because I caught him banging my girlfriend in the men’s locker room.

  Greg “Tripp” Tripodi has been my partner for going on 4 years. We were like brothers both when we were on duty and when we were off. We went on fishing trips together, attended each other’s family dinners. I was at his sister’s wedding and he was at my Dad’s retirement party. We were each other’s confidant and sounding board.

  Jen, my girlfriend of almost 3 years was the girl that you brought home to mom. She was a dispatcher with the department, so she understood the life and the schedule of being a cop. Ours wasn’t what you would call a hot, steamy romance, but we got along well enough and our time together, up until a few minutes ago has been good. We had chemistry, not incredible chemistry, but chemistry nonetheless. Between the sheets, we had fun.

  So, why would I ever think that I would find my partner bare-assed and banging my girlfriend up against the tiled wall of the men’s locker room at the stationhouse? I wouldn’t.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “The least one of you could have done was bought me dinner before you fucked me over.” Instantly I hear Jen gasp and Tripp say under his breath, “Oh fuck”. Without a second thought I begin again, “Jen, get your shit out of my place by noon tomorrow, or it gets donated to the PBA, and leave Ziggy - he’s mine. I’ll be at a hotel tonight. The locks will be changed by 12:05 tomorrow afternoon. Tripp have fun with your new partner; the Sarg will have my transfer papers by 9 a.m. tomorrow.”

  And with that I turned for my locker, grabbed my car keys and the clothes hanging inside and left the locker room.

  Two short days later, I’m starting with a new department and a new partner. Fortunately for me, I had good timing when I turned in my application to transfer. One of the smaller towns nearby was looking for a new full timer to start right away. The department is small. I am 1 of 3 full time officers, all the rest are part-timers or per diems from surrounding areas looking for extra hours.

  It’s a small two stop light town. The slower pace is challenging to adjust to and responding to less severe calls is refreshing. We get traffic violations, a lot of dumb kids with pot, some motor vehicle accidents, an occasional DWI and some domestic disturbances. A really exciting night is when you find someone that you pulled over that has warrants.

  I still live in my house. The commute is only 20 minutes, and it gives me time to either wake up or decompress. When I returned to the house at noon that day after the locker room incident, I found that Jen had heeded my words. Her stuff was gone, and Ziggy was still there. It wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be to find all of her stuff gone. In a way I think I somehow knew that we wouldn’t last forever. For the first few days after it all went down, both Jen and Tripp were calling and sending messages begging me to reconsider and trying to explain away what they did. They must have thought that they could talk their way out of it, but they were most definitely wrong. After the 4th day, I blocked both of them on my phone; I was over it and I didn’t want to see their names flashing on my phone screen anymore.

  Jen reverted to calling my landline and leaving message after message asking for a second chance. After a few days of that, she changed her tactics and decided that she would start demanding that she be allowed to have Ziggy. So, I changed the phone number on the landline and all the codes on my security system. With the locks already changed, there was no way she could get inside the house to get anything, including Ziggy.

  Ziggy is my cat, I found him behind a dumpster in an ally after a drug bust. I kept hearing this little squeaking noise. When I went looking for the source of the squeaking, I found a cold wet little gray ball of matted fur and two orange eyes staring at me. I picked him up, wrapped him in the one of the towels I kept in the trunk of my cruiser and tucked him into my jacket. He stayed in there, not making a sound until we finished with the scene. That was the last time he was quiet for that long; he’s “talkative”. No matter how many times Jen tried to claim him as hers, he will always be mine.

  Chapter 2

  Tristan

  Mid-September

  It’s a beautiful day for a ride. My new partner, Chase Bennet got me hooked up with the local law enforcement motorcycle club. He and his wife Hollynd and their little boy Luca are members. We ride almost every Sunday. Chase has a sweet ride, a black 2009 FXSTB Night Train, and had a side car custom made for Luca last year, shortly after he and Hollynd were married. They had a really small, but extremely fun wedding. Chase and I had only been partners for a few weeks at the time, but he and Hollynd had brought me in, like I had known them for years.

  Riding my Harley was my newly rediscovered way to relax. I had always found it relaxing before, but riding with a group is both relaxing and a lot of fun. My bike, a blue 2006 FXSTS Springer Softail, is my baby. The only thing I take care of better than her, is Ziggy.

  Today, after a nice ride to a quaint little town to the South, we all park and start heading for an old drive-in style hamburger place. I overhear a group of the guys talking about “Ollie” and how she’s didn’t make it this week. When I ask who Ollie is, they all look at me like I just asked them who Santa was. Chase happens upon the group as I am finishing my questions, and says, “Ollie is a bad-ass female CO. She is really awesome and coordinates all of our charity events for the VA.”

  Uh, a girl Corrections Officer, who likes to ride and who seems to be almost revered by everyone. I’m intrigued.

  ***

  Ophelia

  I love getting called in on Sundays. Oh wait, no I don’t. Being called in to cover for some idiot who decided that they didn’t want to work today, means I don’t get to ride. I use my rides to forget, to relax. It’s part of Royan and my routine. I go riding, Royan has training. Royan, my twin brother trains every Sunday for the Wounded Warrior games. He was wounded in the line of duty, 4 years ago, while I was at the police academy. I got a call in the middle of the night, left and never went back to finish and graduate. Royan’s injuries were serious, losing most of the muscle and tissue on his left leg and it took nearly 18 months to get him stabilized. Instead of returning to the police academy, I signed up to be a Corrections
Officer. Since I had completed more than half of the training at the police academy, corrections officer training was piece of cake.

  Royan and I live together in a small custom built two-story house that is set up for his wheel chair and everything that he needs on the first floor. His room even includes extra insulation, so I don’t have to hear him Lovin’ on the “company” he may have. I have the second floor, set up loft style. Unlike Royan, I’ve never had anyone up there, so the extra sound proofing isn’t necessary.

  My lack of “company” upstairs is a source of guilt for Royan. He hates the fact that I had to put my life on hold and all the concessions I had to make because of him. He tries to lure me out to bars to meet guys and while I’ve told him many times that I appreciate the effort, I’m not interested. Royan has never had any trouble pulling in girls; not before he was injured and not now. The day that the doctor determined that Royan should have no problems continuing his quest to be a “ladies man”, he basically threw a party for his fully functional junk.

  If Royan only knew what I really left behind at the police academy, or more specifically who I left behind at the academy, the guilt would probably crush him; because I left my heart at the academy that night that I got that call. I left my arch rival and the man that I loved. The pain is still so fresh, even after all this time. Of course, there are days that I torture myself, thinking about him, wondering where he is, where he ended up, if he found someone new. But, most of all I wonder if he felt the same about me. Did Tristan feel the pull between us? Had he fallen in love with me, as I had with him?

  ***

  Tristan

  One week later

  It’s another beautiful day for a ride. We’re having an Indian summer, which makes for perfect riding weather. We took a ride up to a lake in the Adirondack Mountains, once there we pull into a small diner to park to stretch our legs, grab a bite to eat and shoot the shit.

  Ollie was the last to arrive to the meeting spot. She drove up and took the lead spot, while I was mid-pack, next to Chase and his family. As we’re all parked, I notice some of the guys gathering around Ollie, and starting talking to her, even before she’s taken off her helmet. She’s riding a beautiful bike, a 2010 Dyna Wide Glide Harley Davidson.

  As Chase and Hollynd park, I help Luca out of the side-car. He’s a cute little kid, with his blonde hair, cut in a classic little boy bowl cut, big brown eyes and carrying one of the PBA bears. Chase and Hollynd are completely in love with him. I don’t know the whole story, but what I do know is that he is a really special kid whose biological mother was murdered, a crime which still remains unsolved. She was likely a sex slave, Luca being fathered by her captor; the captor being the sole suspect in her murder. Very little is known about Luca prior to Hollynd finding him shortly before his mother was killed. We weren’t even able to find out his real birthday.

  The group all starts to make their way toward the diner entrance and where Ollie is parked, with her back to me. I begin to make my way over to her to introduce myself. When we are only a few yards away from each other she pulls off her helmet and a curtain of long beautiful blonde, shiny hair falls down her back. As she shakes it out, I freeze in place.

  I know that hair -that head toss; it’s appeared in most of my dreams, both wet and dry. It’s appeared in my imagination when I needed to jerk off and provide my own relief, before I met Jen, but after I shared a night with my #1 rival at the academy and the first women I ever loved.

  Lia.

  Chapter 3

  Ophelia

  4 years ago

  “God I hate him!” I say through gritted teeth to the empty shooting range. I’m on my second clip, and I am no more relaxed or calm then I was when I started.

  “Fucking Gallagher” I mutter, as I take my stance.

  Tristan Gallagher. 6 feet 2 inches of arrogant, irritating man child trapped in a gorgeous, brown haired hazel eyed hunk of a man’s body. Together with hair starting to show signs of premature greying, his level of sexiness should be illegal.

  “Stop that Lia!” I think to myself as focus on my paper target. “Doesn’t matter how sexy he is – he’s your competition, the guy you need to beat to set yourself apart from the rest of your class.” I repeat to myself for probably the 100th time since our first day at the Police Academy.

  We arrived at the Academy a few weeks ago. As two of the members of the current class of trainees, our rivalry has been palpable since day one. I set the bar on the first day of PT on the obstacle course, with the fastest time of everyone in the class, with Gallagher’s time just a few seconds behind mine. Since that day, we’ve been neck and neck in every aspect of our training, whether it’s shooting scores, classroom scores or PT times.

  Today the bastard finally beat my shooting score, which is why I’m at the shooting range, while the rest of the class is either relaxing or studying somewhere. But not me, clearly I need more practice since Gallagher beat me today.

  After squeezing off a few rounds I take a deep breath, click on my safety and then set the weapon on the counter. I’m tired. I’m worn out and can’t stop thinking about him. Why? Why does he have to be so damn good, but such an irritating and sexy jerk?

  As I start to disassemble my weapon, deciding that I’ve punished myself enough for today, I hear foot step behind me. I know it’s him without even looking. I can sense his presence the minute he enters a room. He sets his gear down in the stall next to mine and looks over at me.

  “What’s the matter Jensen, can’t stand that I finally bested you, so you’re here brushing up on your skills?” I close my eyes and will my brain to stop focusing on the sound of his bedroom voice and on his teasing words, suck in a deep breath and let it out. I open my eyes and continue putting my weapon away. Clearing my throat I say, “Enjoy it while it lasts Gallagher, you won’t be gloating for long.”

  Coming over to my side of the partition and standing so close to me at my back I can feel the heat radiate off his body, he reaches and presses the button that will bring my target up from downrange. Once it arrives he takes it from the clips and says, “I don’t know Jensen, I think you’re losing your edge. You’ve got a few shots that are outside the clusters.”

  Grabbing the paper target from him, I look it over and find that he’s right. Damn it. Stupid girl brain! Setting the paper target on the counter in front of me and dropping my head and taking another deep breath and as I let it out I say, “Gallagher please, I’m having a really shitty day.” I feel him step in closer to me and then his hands coming to rest on my shoulders. His huge warm hands practically cover me from my neck to the top of my arms. He starts to rub and massage my shoulder blades, and instantly all the tension starts to leave my body. His touch feels so good, I’m lost to it.

  I’m roused from my thoughtless mind when I feel his hot breath on my neck when he whispers, “You are so beautiful and amazing Lia; I can’t stop thinking about you.” Lia? Did he just call me Lia?

  I stiffen at the thought that he just called me by another women’s name. I turn to look at him, scowling and say, “You’d have a better chance of me believing you, if you called me by the right name.” He stares directly into my eyes, his gaze so intense it feels like he’s looking right into my mind. He places his hand on my cheek and says “I can’t call you Jensen right now, and I know that you hate your first name. Since the first day here, I’ve thought for hours about what I would call you if I ever found you in my arms. I decided that I would call you Lia when no one was around, when I’m holding you, when you were underneath me or on top of me.”

  I gasp at his words, completely at a loss as to what to say after his confession. Before I am able to think of a reply, his mouth is on mine, taking possession of it. His hand starts to move down my cheek and slides down to my neck and then up into my hair. He pulls my hair from its elastic restraint, causing it to fall down my shoulders. His other arm is around my waist and pulling me into him, allowing me to feel every delicious inch of him.r />
  Our kiss intensifies and is only broken when he starts to kiss down my neck onto my collar bone. He feels so good; it almost seems like a dream. When he finds that one spot on my neck I let out a soft moan. The sound seems to fuel him as he kisses and lavishes the area with his tongue. At some point my hands have come to rest on his bi-ceps, almost as if to anchor me to him. He pulls away, and looks into my eyes. His hands find their way to the top of my academy-issued sweats and pushes them down until the meet the floor. Only when I feel bit of a breeze do I realize that he had pushed my panties down too. His hands snake around to backside again and he pulls me into him, his gaze never leaving mine. He removes one hand and reaches behind me. I hear him grab the handle of my gun case and pick it up and then he slowly begins to crouch to set the case on the ground. I hear the case touch the ground, then feel my sneakers being plucked off and seconds later I feel his hands running up my thighs. I let out a gasp as he begins to lick up the inside of my thigh while his thumb begins to brush along the outside of my center. My hands come to rest on the top of his head and I begin to run my fingers through his short hair.

  He suddenly stands, and lifts me from under my ass and set me on the counter. He begins to kiss up my thigh again but this time he lifts my leg to his lips and puts on his shoulder, opening me to him. He looks up at me with the most intense heat in his eyes. He runs his finger up my center and begins to draw circles around my aching clit. His eyes finally leave mine when he runs his tongue up my center. Once again my hands have come to rest on his head. The moans and whimpers of pleasure that leave me cannot be controlled, while he licks and tastes me. As I feel the heat building I whisper out his name and my hips lift on their own accord.