Last Time We Kissed_A Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “Trent?” I cock my head. There's an invisible boulder hanging on his shoulders.

  “That letter, fuck, I meant to deliver it in person. Like I told you before. No do-over there, but this, what I've got to say next, has to happen in person.”

  I'm waiting. On pins and needles. Heart lodged in my throat.

  But then my phone vibrates itself off the nightstand next to the dining room, clattering on the floor so loud it makes me jump. I'm red faced, hand over my mouth, aghast at ruining whatever he's trying to get out.

  Okay, so maybe I'm also laughing. Just a little, knowing how ridiculous this is.

  “Jesus. Sorry, I think it's done, go ahead.”

  He leans back in his chair, his eyebrow quirked.

  Before he can utter one syllable, the phone goes off again, vibrating across the hardwood floor, a jittery howl breaking our silence. “Go for it, Presh. You'll give me your full attention later.”

  I stand, still flustered, annoyed at the interruption.

  So is he, I think, but he said that last part in a caring way. Like, he truly wants my undivided focus, and damn do I want to give it to him to find out what kind of surprise he's hyping.

  But I also really want to smack whoever's dialing me off the hook. I hope it's not related to Jace.

  Probably just my regional manager in Spokane, I bet. Probably calling to tell me she's locked herself out of the corporate account, or there's some furious group of high strung tourists demanding to speak with the owner over a broken ice machine.

  “Be right back,” I mutter, racing across the cabin.

  I'm just in time to yank my phone off the ground before it blows up again. It's dad's number on the screen, and the little pull down in the corner says I've had about ten missed calls and just as many texts.

  Shit. So it's Jace, after all.

  “What's wrong?” I answer the phone with the question already torturing me.

  “Peanut, it's mom.”

  Three little words. That's all he gets out before my world goes darker, crushed under the ten ton tragedy that wasn't supposed to happen.

  He's still talking. Says something about a fall, a bad head injury, critical condition.

  I can't even hear him over the welt in my throat.

  I'm choking on my fear, grief that's coming like blood from an open wound, no matter what he says next.

  “Dad...just...I...”

  I'm struggling to find words when the phone leaps out of my hand. I look up and see Trent, a cold understanding in his eyes. His other hand lands on my shoulder. “She's hurt right now, Maxwell. Give me the details. No, you can't trust me, at least not yet, but damn it let's put that aside. Let me get her on a plane home. I'll have her right back to you.”

  He squeezes my arm. Tears burst from my eyes, falling for too many conflicting reasons I couldn't cite to save my life.

  “Got it. We'll be there soon,” he says, killing the call.

  By the time he sinks to the floor, I'm shaking my head, his words finally sinking in. “Wait, you said –”

  “We. I know, darling. Don't care what kind of shit's in store for me. You're not facing this down by your lonesome.”

  The last thing I remember that night in our spoiled paradise is crashing into his chest. Then he lifts me gently, walks me to the corner with our suitcases, and starts barking orders into his phone.

  A soggy, mournful rain pelts the Randolph Medical Center. It's newly renovated, state of the art, a facility staffed by world class doctors recruited thanks to the generous donor pressures of another billionaire Maynard classmate slightly before our time.

  It doesn't make me feel the least bit better.

  What does is how he ferries us to the airport and drags me on a private jet.

  What helps is how he holds me the entire flight, and then again once we're in the back of a sleek black town car.

  What saves me from having a complete fucking breakdown is how he kisses every tear, growls out the unthinkable, tells me, “Enough, Precious. You'll be okay. Won't let you do anything else.”

  I'm barely able to whimper out the same phrase every hour, heartfelt as it is lame. “I love you.”

  And the thing that makes this better, that stops it from eviscerating me, is how he always tips my face to his, caresses my cheek, and echoes every word.

  “Love you, too, Presh.” His voice drops an octave. “Love you so fucking much.”

  How did I get this lucky? I don't know, but I'm praying it'll continue the whole disorienting journey to the waiting room. I can't stop holding my breath in brutal bursts until we see mom.

  Dad's eyes go huge the second we walk in and he sees Trent. In the flesh. The man he thinks wrecked his future, his reputation, and left gaping holes in our family that might never heal.

  I rush to his embrace, throw my arms around him, and hold on so tight I think it winds us both. For a second, I think it'll be okay, now that his attention is off Trent.

  “Thank God you're here,” he whispers. “She's in recovery. Stable for now. Should let you see her at the top of the hour, before they cut visiting hours for the night.”

  “I was so scared, dad. Tell me she'll be okay?” I look up, searching his eyes.

  I know that look. Dad wants to lie. Reassure me the entire world isn't caving in. It's like a horrible living memory from the night everything went wrong, after Jace got done talking to the police.

  And speaking of my idiot brother...there's another awful question in my throat, sour as it is necessary.

  “Jace?” I whisper. “Does he know?”

  Dad just clears his throat, pulls his mocha cardigan tighter, and beams daggers out his eyes over my shoulder. If looks could kill, he would have torn Trent up several times over.

  “Let's step into the phone room first, peanut. Family business only.”

  14

  Rain, Rain (Trent)

  I watch Maxwell Chenocott usher her away, shooting me the dirtiest look I think I've seen since a conference a few years ago, when I outbid a major competitor who needed the solar battery start up I stole under his nose.

  Can't blame the old man. Fuck knows I'd do the same if I had to watch my daughter depending on the bastard who ripped his family's life to bits.

  Maybe I should have let her have the talk about Jace after all. But that's the thing about wishes: they're dirt cheap.

  Utterly worthless until they come true, and time always makes some forever stillborn.

  I take a seat in the waiting room, listening to a fierce Seattle rain hammering the windows. Despite the evil eye her dad's giving me, I regret nothing being back here.

  Didn't even stop to think the second I found her on the floor at our Lincoln City cabin, phone hanging limply against her cheek. I just acted. Picked her up and carried her home with all my might.

  We, I'd told her. Now, she's learning what it means.

  Means I've come home to deal with my demons once and for all.

  Means I'll do anything to protect her heart, knowing I'm the luckiest SOB on Earth to have a second crack at it.

  Means I'll work my balls off making her life picture perfect – no matter how rough or painful or messy it'll be.

  And it's guaranteed to be all that and then some, knowing her asshole brother's out there.

  Because I haven't let go of the secret in my pocket. My hand brushes against it even now, the box controlling the tip of my tongue, begging to come out. If only my words hadn't stuck in my throat while we were in Oregon.

  Deep down, I'm glad fate intervened at the last second and kept me from getting down on one knee. I'd have needed one hell of a do-over if I'd asked Presh to be my wife a split second before she heard the tragic news.

  Next time, I'll wait until the storm's over. I have to. Even if every minute I don't get it out makes me want to bury my fist through the nicely painted wall of this floor.

  I don't see Amy Kay or her dad for the better part of the next hour. She comes out again, shutti
ng the door gently behind her, walking toward me with a nurse. The woman peels away from her before we're together again, me on my feet, waiting for her with open arms.

  “What's the word?”

  “She'll live. More scans coming in the morning. Her eyes were open. She remembered me, knew who I was, thank God, but didn't say much else. I'm worried. They don't really know how bad it is, Trent. Not yet. Maybe by tomorrow –”

  “Come the hell here.” I stop her mid-sentence, jerk her to me, refusing to let more hot pain stream down her cheeks. “How'd it happen?”

  I hold her, wait for her breathing to stabilize, her body stilling in my arms. When she looks up with the glossy pain in her eyes, I know before his name leaves her lips.

  “Jace. He was gone for so long mom knew something was up. She confronted dad. Demanded answers. He told her about the divorce, the money problems, stealing from the firm. All his dirt.”

  I don't say anything. Just squeeze her tighter.

  “Well, mom lost it, bolted upstairs, trying to run away to their room. God, the arthritis – one of her knees locked. She was too choked up to stop herself, to grab onto the banister before...”

  “I've heard plenty. No more tonight, darling. You'll tell me the rest once she's doing better again.” I don't give her any choice, pressing her face to my shoulder, stroking her chestnut hair.

  It's velvet in my fingers.

  Fuck. She's too amazing for life, this woman.

  Even when her heart's imploding, she's an angel. Velvet heart and silk skin. So rare and beautiful.

  Makes me want to find Jace and break every bone in his evil fucking body. Maybe his pain will buy an end to hers.

  “How's Maxwell? Still pissed I'm here?” I give her a few more seconds, then lift her face gently to mine, smiling as wide as I can with my eyes.

  “He'll get over it. Dad's just glad I'm back. Says it doesn't matter, if you stay out of the way...but he doesn't want mom to see you anytime soon. We don't know how she is. It might upset her all over again.”

  “She'll get all the space she needs. I'll make myself a ghost, Presh. You need family time, just say the word.” Her little hands fold to my arm, seeking my strength, tighter than before. I give it my all, so past ready to make this right. “Let's get the hell out of here. I can take you home to your parents' place, if you prefer, or a hotel –”

  “Nah. The house will do fine. Just wish we could be together, tonight, but I should be there for dad. Don't know when he'll be home. Or if.” She blinks, her eyes big, as if she's working through the hot mess of her thoughts. “This sounds really bitchy doesn't it? After everything you've done for me...”

  “Precious.” I stop, wait until she looks at me, lifting her face by the chin. “Not bitchy. Not anything. You just keep your family's spirits up.”

  “Trent –”

  “No,” I growl in her ear, then silence her with a heavy kiss.

  No more excuses. No more apologies. No more worries over me.

  Whatever's got her freaked out and ashamed doesn't fucking matter. Not tonight. Not ever.

  “Quiet,” I whisper, bringing my mouth to hers one more time. “Let's get you home. Left the driver waiting out front. He'll be happy to drop you, and I'll find some place to stay. I'll be by my phone. You call, you need me, I'm there. Won't even sleep till I hear your voice again.”

  “Trent.” She tilts her head.

  “Let's move, Amy Kay. Right the hell now.” I pull her gently by the wrist, leading her down the hall, trying to remember how we found our way to parking.

  She falls into me. I throw an arm around her shoulder and march her toward the elevator, loving how good she feels against me. Why the fuck did it take so long to get here?

  I tap the button for the elevator. She turns her little face up. “Haven't been on one of these since last time with you.”

  “Shit, you're right. How about the stairs then, darling?”

  “No.” Her grip tightens on my arm and her little hand slides down it. “No sense running from my fears. That's how we got ourselves into this mess. If you're by my side, we'll survive anything.”

  She's finally starting to get it. Good.

  Damn good. I can't even hold the growl that slips out as I press my lips to hers. Our lips are still locked together as the door swings open, and the universe flips us the middle finger. Laughing.

  Jace stands stiff as a board the instant he sees us. His eyes go big and his fists fly from his pockets, braced at his sides, fully ready to put me through the wall.

  Shit!

  I put myself in front of my woman, still staring in disbelief. “Jace, what the –”

  “Fuck, Usher? Fuck you.” He lunges, too fast, catching me off guard.

  The situation's too surreal and I'm wearing the wrong shoes for this. They slip on the polished floor and send me spinning back into the wall.

  My balance returns the instant I catch myself and look up again. His filthy paws are on Precious.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind, sis? Him? Here? With you? The fucking animal who put mom under?” He's shaking too bad to hurt her, but he's got her shook up, too. All it takes to make my blood storm.

  “Let her go!” I snarl, grabbing at his neck. He tries to whirl around and knock an elbow in my guts, but this time I'm ready.

  I block his swing. Grab the back of his wrist. Pull until tendons creak.

  Drop him to the floor, still bending his hand back. It's been a couple years since I did that crash course in martial arts for a company health initiative, but I've kept practicing a few times per month, and it all comes flooding back.

  “Ah, fuck you!” he spits again, undaunted, teeth bared like a wild beast.

  Giving no fucks, I keep bending his wrist.

  “You're lucky we're in a hospital, asshole. They can fix this right up if I have to make you behave.”

  Amy Kay rushes to my side, lays her hands on my shoulders, and squeezes imploringly. “He didn't hurt me. Go easy, Trent. Please. For mom.”

  Damn.

  I can't deny the tremor in her voice, no matter how much the manic fuck on the floor deserves a kick to the throat, too. I'll have to settle for answers instead.

  “Why'd you come here, Jace? Start talking.” I stop bending, just short of breaking his wrist.

  “Why. The. Fuck. You. Think?” He spits every word, pain crushing his throat. “Mom, asshole. Have to see her. All I'm here to do.”

  “Whatever. First, I think I'll have your sister search you for everybody's safety. You'll tell us exactly where you've been the last few weeks. And then, maybe, I'll let you touch base with your folks.”

  “Trent...” Amy's voice breezes my ear, pleading and knowing at once.

  “You heard me, Presh. Check his pockets. Make sure he hasn't brought any surprises.” If this prick walked into a hospital armed, I will break his wrist. No question.

  “You're fucking crazy. Both of you!” The hate stamped on my ex-best friend's face could scare the devil himself.

  Slowly, Amy Kay drops off me, stoops on the ground next to her brother, and begins patting him down. His hateful eyes stay trained on me the whole time.

  A nurse walks by and does a double take. Probably wondering what the hell's happening on this floor.

  Part of me feels guilty, making a scene. Too bad this jackoff didn't leave me any choice.

  Any slip up here could cost us and her entire family. We've given him too many passes. I gave him the last he'll ever get the second I decided not to finish hacking his reputation to pieces.

  “You're a psycho bastard for doing this,” he snarls, shaking his head as Amy Kay sifts through the pockets in his trousers. “I'm here for her. Ma. Nothing else.”

  “Interesting. Next I suppose you'll tell us Portland wasn't on your itinerary the last few weeks.”

  “Pacific coast, asshole. Ocean Shores, Coos Bay, Tillamook...got as far as that on highway 101, clearing my head, before I decided not to show up on
your doorstep and blow your fucking brains out.” His voice is too harsh to be a bluff. He's telling me the truth.

  How kind.

  Takes everything I've got not to break his wrist like a twig. “Appreciate your honesty, but something tells me you're not over it that easy. You only stopped after you got the call from Maxwell, didn't you?”

  He doesn't answer. Just looks at the ground, staring into his own vicious reflection mirrored on my shoes.

  “He's clean.” Amy Kay stands, saunters up to me, her eyes big and green and sweeping. “Let him up. We can always call security.”

  Snorting reluctantly, I release him. Jace stands, dusts himself off, maintains an icy distance a few feet away.

  “You're both sick.” His finger flies out, stabs me in the chest, but it's Amy Kay he's beaming daggers at. “Especially you, sis. You and everything you've done to this family, running off with him.”

  He looks past us, craning his neck to see down the hall. “Where the fuck's dad? Has everybody just lost it? He should've had Usher hauled the fuck out of here the second he walked through the door.”

  She shakes her head, tears brimming in her eyes. I'm ready to get in front of her again, but she steps out before I can do anything. Presh sends a crisp slap across her brother's face. “Shut the hell up already. You're an idiot, Jace.”

  She's shaking. Equal parts fierce and adorable when she's pissed. “Without this man, you'd probably be in jail. He dragged your demons into the light of day before they consumed you. It's not too late, if you'll grow a pair and stop blaming everybody else just this once.”

  I don't like the look on his face one bit. Rather than taking her tough love like a man, the bastard sneers.

  My fist tightens, ready and so willing to wipe his face clean.

  Asshole's mouth opens, but before he says anything, there's another voice behind us. “What's going on here, peanut?”

  Shit. Maxwell.