One Last Kiss: A Second Chance Romance

by Lauren Wood

  I was getting ready for my first day as a third grade teacher at Centerville Elementary after getting my degree from Alabama the previous fall.

  After Chase had left college before his junior year, I thought about quitting, too. I called my mom and I was bawling. I came very close to just crawling back home to Centerville to lick my wounds. But my mom reminded me that just because Chase had chosen a different path didn’t mean I had to.

  I had wanted to be an elementary school teacher as long as I could remember, and to throw that away over “some guy” as she called him, would have been insane.

  “He’s not just some guy!” I remember screaming into the phone. “I love him! He has been my entire life since the tenth grade! We’ve been together four years!”

  As she always did when I went off on a hysterical rant, my mom listened quietly, softly told me it would be okay, then sternly told me to quit feeling sorry for myself and get to class.

  And that’s what I did. I woke up every day, washed away the tears I’d cried all night, and headed to class.

  Each day it got a little easier until finally, the tears stopped and the anger and resentment settled in. I knew that if I ever saw Chase Richards again the first thing he’d see was my fist coming at his nose.

  Anger is a wonderful medicine. It pushed me to stay in college and force Chase out of my mind. I got my degree in elementary education, and came home to find a job. I was lucky. Centerville is a small town and the third grade teacher at the elementary school was retiring. I slid right in to her spot and plan to keep it until the day I retire.

  I still think about him. It would be a lie to say that I didn’t. Especially today, with the news that he’s being released from rehab in Atlanta.

  The buzz around town is that he’s coming home. I haven’t spoken to his mom since before we broke up, so I don’t have a clue what his plans are.

  His mom always hated me, so there’s no way I’d even call to ask. And even if I did, she would probably just tell me to stay away from her son.

  I think she somehow blames me for Chase’s bad luck. Maybe she thinks if he hadn’t met me his life would have been different. Who knows.

  I glanced at the clock on the classroom wall with the smiley face and big hands. It was nearly four o’clock and the kids had gone home an hour ago.

  I sat at my desk trying to focus on the stack of papers I had to grade. It was no use. My thoughts were all on Chase. I put the cap on the red marker and tossed it aside. I put folded my arms on the desk and rested my forehead on them. I was always catnapping. With a toddler who kept me up at night and a fulltime job, I stole moments of sleep wherever I could get them.

  As I started to drift into that space between awake and asleep, my mind went back to the last time I’d seen Chase.

  It was in the hotel room he’d rented for us at the Airport Hilton. He had to catch a plane for Atlanta early the next morning and we wanted to spend every second we could together.

  It was a magical night of passion and abandon. Chase and I had been intimate many times since the night I gave him my virginity two years before, but we’d never spent the night in a hotel room before.

  It just seemed to fuel his desires and made me do things with him and to him that I had never done before.

  Or maybe I knew in the back of my mind that it would be our last time together and it had to be especially memorable.

  Either way, drifting off to doze there on my desk, I could feel Chase’s strong hands caressing my body.

  I could feel the stiffness and thickness of him in my hand.

  I could feel his fingers probing into me, gently at first, then harder, faster, longer.

  I could feel his lips and tongue…

  I could feel… everything.

  Chapter 7

  Mollie

  My dreams about Chase were always as vivid as my reality without him. In my dream, Chase was leading me down a long hallway to our hotel room at the Airport Hilton. We were like kids; giddy, playful, we couldn’t keep out hands off of one another.

  With me hanging on him, Chase opened the door and led me into the room. He was on fire, knowing that the next morning he’d be heading to Atlanta for a meeting with the Falcons.

  It was a formality, of course. The Falcons had made it public knowledge that they were going to draft the young standout quarterback from the University of Alabama and wouldn’t let any other team get in their way.

  Chase beamed: knowing that, if all went according to plan, he’d be drafted by the Falcons, become an immediate millionaire, and our life together would be set.

  We couldn’t wait to tear into one another like animals. I roughly tugged his Alabama jersey over his head and pushed him onto the bed.

  He put his hands behind his head and beamed at me. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on Chase’s frame. His muscles flexed and called to me. I couldn’t wait to run my tongue across his thick chest and perfectly-chiseled abs.

  I pulled my jersey over my head and slid out of my bra. My tits are not huge, but they are natural and more than a handful. I playfully cupped them in my hands and held them up for him to see. I ran my thumb over my nipple and we both moaned.

  Without getting off the bed, Chase lifted his butt and shimmied out of his sweat pants and boxer shorts. His cock was already full and stiff in anticipation of our lovemaking. When he lay back with his hands behind his head it stood up like the mast of a great ship I couldn’t wait to board.

  I pushed my sweat pants and panties down my legs and got on my knees at the the foot of the bed. I put my fingers around him, so long and thick and veiny. He moaned at my touch, which just made me even wetter. I slowly moved my hand up and down as I put my lips to the mushrooming head. I toyed with him for a minute, letting my tongue slither around the head, flicking little kisses up and down the shaft.

  “Come here,” I heard him say. I looked up with him still in my mouth and grinned. He was reaching for me. Wiggling his fingers.

  I straddled him, ready to ride him like a stallion. He put his hands on my hips and slowly lowered me onto him. As he entered me, I closed my eyes and held my breath. Then, when he was at my opening, I opened my eyes and impaled myself on him. The sudden eruption of nerve endings sent shudders through my entire body. I heard the breath rush from Chase’s lungs.

  I put my hands on his chest and lowered my mouth to his. His lips were wet and warm. His tongue darted into my mouth and I sucked on it life a candy cane.

  Chase’s hands immediately went to my tits, as they always did. He loved the feel of my natural boobs and the thickness of my nipples. He kneaded my breasts as I set the pace, riding him up and down, lifting myself until I felt his tip at my opening, then sliding back down.

  I heard Chase moan and call my name. He grabbed my hips and started to drive me up and down on his long cock. I bit my lip and dug my fingers into his chest. Within seconds we came together, as we always did. I could feel him filling me with his hot cum. I felt my muscles milking him for every ounce he had.

  After a moment, I collapsed on top of him. We were a sweaty, gooey mess. And we had never been more in love. If you had told me then that just two months later Chase would break up with me over the phone I would have said you were insane.

  * * *

  I felt someone shaking me. I lifted my head off my arms and looked up to find the principal, Mrs. Campbell, gently shaking me. There was a kind smile on her wrinkled face.

  “Mollie, dear, you were sleeping at your desk again,” she said, moving to stand across the desk from me. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, wiping a bit of drool from my cheek. “Long night, last night. Tommy has an ear infection, so…”

  “Have you heard the news about Chase?” she asked, totally ignoring the news that my young son had an ear infection. She as an old busybody. She, like everyone else in town, knew about my past with Chase. Heck, how could she not know. We were the golden couple of Centerville for y
ears.

  “I heard he was getting out of rehab,” I said.

  “Do you think he’ll come back home?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me as if she were trying to read my mind. It was a good thing she couldn’t read my mind. It would have cost me my job.

  “I haven’t spoken to Chase in two years, Mrs. Campbell,” I said as I pushed myself out of the chair and retrieved my purse from the desk drawer. “And I have no intention of ever doing so again.”

  She started to say something, but I told her I had to get home to my sick son and headed for the door.

  Chapter 8

  Chase

  My mom still lived in the same little, cracker box house that I grew up in. My dad passed away six years ago and his life insurance paid it off.

  It wasn’t much of a house; two small bedrooms and one bath, a kitchen barely big enough for two people to stand in, but she said the place held a life time of memories for her and she’d never leave it behind.

  When I was drafted by the Falcons, I got a hefty signing bonus and a two year deal worth just shy of three million dollars. I offered to buy her a new house, but she refused it all.

  She said it was a perfectly good, paid for house and it was just fine for her. She did let me put in new appliances and put on a new roof. Other than that, the place was exactly the same as it was when I grew up there.

  It was a good thing. I’d burned through my money like a man on fire. Fast cars, fast boats, big houses, heavy gold chains, Rolex watches, vacations and lots and lots of what the guys in the NFL call “P&P” -- parties and pussy.

  What money I had left was spent on doctors and hospitals and rehab. Here I was two years later without a dime to my name.

  I had royally fucked up. My life had been on a downward spiral since the morning I got on the plane for Atlanta.

  I can still see Mollie standing there, waving goodbye with tears in her pretty eyes.

  I could still taste her on my lips, feel her against my skin.

  God, I loved that girl. Then everything changed. I got caught up in the NFL machine. It was all about the team. And it was all about ME. I started believing my own press, how great I was and what a bright future I had. I started drinking and partying and fucking a different girl every night, and it didn’t take long for me to convince myself that Mollie was not the girl for me.

  Christ, I broke up with her over the phone. How shitty was that?

  I remember many nights lying in the hospital bed, in and out of consciousness, high on pain killers and held together with screws and wire like Frankenstein, always dreaming of Mollie.

  I imagined her at my bedside, softly whispering in my ear, telling me it would be all right.

  I could feel the touch of her hand, the warmth of her lips.

  Then I’d open my eyes and she wouldn’t be there.

  I had never cried a day in my life before the wreck.

  I cried a lot afterward, though not from the pain. I cried because I missed Mollie and knew that I had pissed away my one shot to be with the only girl I would ever love.

  Chapter 9

  Chase

  As the taxi pulled up to the curb in front of my mom’s house, it occurred to me that I hadn’t been home in over a year, since before my wreck. And I hadn’t seen my mom in six or seven months. Maybe that’s why she was so surprised to hear from me last week when I called to ask if I could come home.

  “Home?” I could hear the hesitation in her voice. “You mean… here? To Centerville?”

  “Yes, mom,” I said with a sigh, hoping I wouldn’t have to beg. “Home, to your house in Centerville. Just until I can figure out what I’m going to do and get back on my feet again.”

  She hemmed and hawed for a minute, like she didn’t want me to come home, but finally relented and said I could stay with her for a while.

  I was a little shocked at the hesitation in her voice, I mean, she is my mom for Christ sake, but I couldn’t really blame her. I’d been a lousy son. Buying someone a washer and dryer and a new roof does not make you a good son.

  She had spent a lot of time at the hospital the first few weeks after my wreck, but she couldn’t stay in Atlanta forever. She worked as a secretary for a local CPA and couldn’t miss work for long.

  Once they announced that I would indeed live, and moved me from ICU into a private room, I saw her less and less.

  Then she started calling rather than coming, saying that she couldn’t get off work.

  Then the calls became less frequent. I know, I could have called her, but to be honest, I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be left the fuck alone.

  I think she knew that and was just giving me the space and time I needed to realize what a shit storm I’d made of my life. Or maybe she was just tired of listening to me whine.

  I paid the driver, grabbed my duffel bag from the floor, and stepped out onto the curb. I stood for a moment, letting my eyes go around the front of the little blue house with the black shutters and faded red front door.

  When my dad was alive, he kept the place immaculate. My mom was never much for yardwork and it showed. The grass needed cutting and the hedges needed trimming and I imagined the gutters could use a good cleaning.

  I wondered if what was left of my right arm would even allow me to do such basic chores. I could use my right hand okay, but I couldn’t lift anything heavy and my range of motion was limited. We’d have to wait and see, I told myself. Just thinking about it made my entire arm ache.

  As the taxi pulled away, I slung the duffel over my good shoulder and went up the walk toward the front door.

  It was literally like walking into my past.

  CHAPTER 10: Chase

  My mom saw the taxi pull up, and by the time I was stepping onto the tiny front porch, she had opened the door and was standing with her arms open wide.

  I bent down so she could put her arms around my neck and kiss my cheeks. There were big tears in her eyes.

  “Oh, son, I’m so glad you’re home,” she said, sniffing back the tears as she held me at arm’s length to look me over. “You’re so thin!”

  “I’m not thin, ma,” I said with a tired smile. “I just haven’t been in the gym much lately.”

  I hadn’t really given myself a good look in the mirror in a long time. I was six-foot-two, and before the wreck, weighed in at a solid 220; and it was all muscle.

  Now, given that I’d lost a lot of muscle mass and walked with a slight limp thanks to my damaged hip, I probably did look smaller to her. She would freak if she saw my withered right arm, slack of muscle and lined with scars from the wreck and the surgeries.

  “I’ll fatten you up, don’t you worry,” she said, tugging me through the door. I noticed that she looked up and down the street for a minute, as if she thought someone might be watching, then closed the door and led me into my old bedroom just off the kitchen.

  “Nothing’s changed,” she said, stepping aside to let me pass. She had her hands clasped to her chin and was eyeing me warily, as if she thought I might suddenly freak out and run from the room.

  “Of course, you have fresh sheets and pillow cases. And there are fresh towels in the bathroom, just like always.”

  “Thanks, ma,” I said, dropping my duffel on the single bed that was too small for me when I was a teen. I stood at the foot of the bed with my hands in my pockets and gazed around my old room.

  It was the room of a typical teenage jock from Alabama. There were posters of Coach Nick Saban, and several Alabama football players hanging on the walls.

  There was a small desk with a lamp with an Alabama shade. The curtains over the window and the comforter on the bed were Alabama crimson and white.

  My Centerville football jersey from my last high school game was tacked to the wall, as was the Alabama jersey from the last college game I played.

  Mom went to the closet door and pulled it open. “All of your old clothes are still here. Jeans, t-shirts, your Sunday suit for church.”


  “Thanks, ma,” I said again, mustering a smile for her. I didn’t tell her that I wasn’t on too good a terms with God at the moment, so I probably wouldn’t be going to church. That would have been an argument I was too tired to have.

  “Do you want to unpack?” She nodded at the duffel bag.

  I shook my head. “Not much in there. Just a few pair of sweats and jeans. I’ll unpack them later.”

  She seemed nervous. She wrapped her arms around herself and licked her lips. “So, what are your plans?”

  “Plans?” I took a deep breath. I hadn’t even thought about what I’d do next. Since the wreck I’d been taking things one day at a time. Today was no exception.

  I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and rubbed a hand over my face. I shrugged at her. “I don’t really have any plans, ma. I thought I’d rest a bit and then maybe drive around. Is dad’s old truck still in the shed out back?”

  She hesitated for a second, then came to sit next to me on the bed. She put her arm around my shoulders like she did when I was a little kid and needed comforting.

  Softly, she said, “I don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to go driving around just yet. Why don’t you take a few days to rest?”

  “I’ve been resting for nearly a year, ma,” I said, looking sideways at her. I could see the worry and concern on her face, but I got the feeling it didn’t have anything to do with my injuries or my health. I scooted away and turned to face her.

  “Ma, what are you not telling me?” When she didn’t respond, I braced myself for bad news and asked again. “Mom! What are you not telling me?”

  Her hands were folded together in her lap. She started kneading her fingers and slowly shook her head. “There’s something you need to know,” she said quietly, her eyes locked on her hands.

  A chill ran up my spine. The pins and screws in my arm seemed to tingle, like bolts of lightning were running through them.