Never His: A Second Chance Romance (Second Chances Book 1)

by Amelia Wilde

  Almost.

  I just got burned by a man who led me to believe that I was the one. He took too much of my time for me to run headfirst into the arms of the first man to break my heart—even if I didn’t know at the time that his leaving was quite so significant.

  But God, do I want him...do I need him.

  I reach toward the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head, but at the last moment raise my hands to his chest, applying a gentle pressure. “Wait,” I say, pulling away from him just slightly, struggling to catch my breath. “Wait...”

  “We’ve waited long enough.”

  “No...”

  “Addi?” He pulls back, brow furrowed, and looks questioningly into my eyes.

  “You’re a fucking great kisser,” I say, and we both laugh, but there’s an undercurrent of tension. “That’s why—that’s why I can’t—”

  “You can,” he says, leaning toward me, and again I have to push him away.

  “I can’t, Brett.”

  “You totally can.”

  His words are like an echo from the past, and something about them pricks some moment deep in my memory. The last time I heard those words, my heart soared with exhilaration. Now it beats in an unsteady rhythm. I’ve been hurt more now. I need to proceed with caution.

  I step away from him, breathing in deep, trying to shake the searing heat from my limbs, from my face. When I look back into Brett’s green eyes, they’re like a lightning storm.

  “What’s wrong, Addi? Just tell me.”

  “Listen, I—I want to think that this isn’t just a random hookup.”

  “It’s never a random hookup with you.”

  I want so badly to believe him, but it’s been ten years without a single word from him.

  “How am I supposed to know that? You’ve been back in town three days. You still haven’t really explained why—why I’m the last to know what you’ve been doing for an entire decade. If I really meant that much to you...” My voice is hitching in my throat, and I hate it. “If there was going to be anything between us, why didn’t you just call me?”

  “I was fucking terrified,” Brett thunders, and that’s when I see it. That’s when I see that whatever has happened to him in the last ten years, it started with a little seed of fear. What happened to the cocky, popular, sometimes-asshole I went to school with? What has made him that way? “I couldn’t bring myself to call you and explain what was going on. Maybe that makes me a fucking coward, I don’t know.” His hands ball into fists, and then he closes his eyes and sucks in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

  “I don’t think you’re a coward.” My voice seems small and my heart beats hard in my chest.

  The corners of his mouth rise, but not enough to be mistaken for a true smile. “You should. Because I ended up back here, even after—”

  I take a step closer to him, wanting desperately to give him some kind of comfort. I’m just not sure how. “After what? Tell me, Brett.”

  He looks me straight in the eye. “Nothing. It all came to nothing. What does it matter, now that I’m back in Lockton, back where everybody said I’d always stay?” There’s something so sharply bitter in his voice that I want to cover my ears.

  “You know,” I say neutrally, “you don’t have to stay. There’s a whole big country out there.”

  “Shit, I should have thought about that before I bought this damn house.”

  Right. The house.

  “I’m sure you could find a buyer.”

  Brett runs his hand through his hair and looks at me. “Are you saying you don’t want me for a neighbor?”

  The thought of watching him pack up all his stuff and drive way to God knows where inflicts a piercing pain in my heart. “Hell no.”

  Brett laughs, his face lighting up again, and I sigh silently. Okay. We’re back on some kind of track, even if it’s a rough one.

  “All I want,” I say, searching for just the right words, “is to understand what happened. It broke my heart, Brett. You broke my heart.”

  “I know.”

  I wait, letting the ball roll across his court in slow motion. I hate the fact that I’m harping on this, but the more I see Brett, the more I realize he’s been influencing everything about my love life since the day I first saw him in high school, coming back from summer break. He’d shot up to his full adult height and something about his face had become ruggedly handsome. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

  “I was worthless, Addi—a fucking loser. And I didn’t want to drag you down with me. Just like they said. And now I’m not much better, but when I saw you in that bar...” He reaches one hand out and traces a fingertip down my jawline. My entire body trembles under the warmth of his touch. “We could have another chance.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Brett

  I get it. I fucking get it. If she had walked out on me, I’d probably be a little bit reluctant to hop back in bed with her, too.

  That’s a lie. I’d be there in a heartbeat, no matter what she’d done. I don’t know why I never realize these things until it’s too fucking late.

  Addi’s eyes are huge and bottomless as she looks up at me, tilting her head into my touch. Then she steps back with a smile.

  “Do you really think so?”

  Do I really think we could have another shot at this? Yes—if I can convince her that it won’t be a repeat of ten years ago. I bought a damn house. I’m here. All I need to do is make her see that I’m going to stay, no matter how much my mind resists the idea of becoming a Lockton resident for life.

  It’s too late for second thoughts about that now. Now that Addi is so damn close, she’s pulling me in closer with every single breath. How could I ever leave?

  I just have to get my shit together.

  “Okay.” That single word drops from her mouth like a diamond, shining in confidence. Then she bites her lip and smiles at me. “I’m going to go.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Yes, fucking way. I hope you eat the rest of the cookies.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Addi turns and strides confidently toward the door. “I forgive you for leaving me like a huge asshole ten years ago,” she says over her shoulder as she turns the doorknob and pulls it open, “but it’s not like we can just get back together. We never dated, remember?”

  I can feel my forehead wrinkling. What the hell is she saying? I dated a few girls back in high school, but never...never Addi. She’s damn right. All that fooling around we did in the back of our cars, on the beach, in the woods—that was always in secret. It’s coming back to me now, how we started hinting at a “real relationship” during that final summer, how it was almost a done deal, and then...

  And then I decided to live an entire life just to prove everyone wrong. Good choice, Miller.

  “I’ll text you,” she says, and then she’s outside. Gone.

  I rush to the door, calling out to her retreating back. “Where are you going?”

  She stops, turns, her teeth flashing white in the gathering dark. “Home,” she calls back. “I have work in the morning.”

  “Text me.”

  It’s half invitation, half desperate command, and her laughter rings out across the space between us.

  “Not unless you text me first.”

  Then she turns on her heel and darts across her driveway, taking the porch steps two at a time, and shutting the door behind her with an echoing click.

  The text arrives two minutes later.

  Whatever you do, don’t come over here.

  Don’t tempt me.

  I’m not. Seriously. Don’t.

  Tease.

  Never said I wasn’t

  I forgive you

  You already said that

  But I still think we have some things to work out

  I’d say

  What do you think?

  I think you should have let me kiss you longer

  Maybe I will

  When?


  Maybe on the weekend

  It’s only Monday!!

  You got somewhere else to be?

  No

  Didn’t think so ;)

  I missed you, Addi

  I missed you too

  I still miss you

  Aww, you’re the cutest! Don’t miss me, I’m right next door

  I’m coming over

  Nope.

  Come on...

  Listen, we need to do this right. Let’s not be fools rushing in

  There’s also one about seizing the day

  This day is almost over, and I’m tired

  Don’t waste it, Addi

  I’ll text you tomorrow :)

  Unless I text you first

  I’m glad you’re home Brett

  I can see her living room light shining on the grass between our houses, and like some kind of lovesick idiot, I watch it until it flicks off a couple of hours later. My chest aches with the need to know what she was doing—reading? Watching TV? Telling Leah about me? All of the above?

  I’ve wasted so much time away from Addison. That’s what it was—a waste. Being away from her was just throwing away day after day into the fucking garbage. Even the Air Force didn’t pan out, and maybe it’s superstitious as fuck, but that could have been one reason...

  No. My eyes are going to do whatever they fucking want, whether I have Addison by my side or not. Suddenly, losing my vision was a major goddamn setback, but I have a chance to make a better life.

  If I do this right.

  My heart thuds in my chest, beating, beating, beating. For the first time since I got back to Lockton, I feel like I’ve got a fucking chance.

  I sit in the dark for another several minutes, thinking of her, and then I flick on the one floor lamp I brought with me and hunt down the backpack that holds my laptop. I pull it out and turn it on. It takes a damn long time to start up, and—fuck—once it does, I have to set up the router from the Internet company. Thirty minutes later, I’m finally ready.

  Phase one in my plan: figure out what the hell I want to do in Lockton.

  I’ve got thousands of dollars in savings. I’ll be all right for a while. But it’s not just the ghost of Addison’s dad that I need to prove myself to now. It’s Addison. She’s a woman with a career, with a purpose, and even though there’s enough fucking heat between us to power an entire city, eventually she’s going to want to know there’s a future out there for us.

  It won’t be exciting, that’s for damn sure. It won’t be like getting in the cockpit of a plane and flying over enemy territory.

  My breath comes fast and shallow. Do I love Addison? I don’t know. I want her, badly. But there’s only one way to find out. And it’s going to start tonight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Addison

  The only reason I can focus on the faces across my desk from me on Tuesday morning is because their jittery energy pulls me in. When they leave, before the next person—or couple, or teenager—is brought in, all I can think about is Brett.

  That kiss...

  I want more of that kiss. I want to still be kissing him. I want to have my hands running all over his body, under his clothes, taking off his clothes, and...

  Doing a lot more than kissing. Fucking. I want to be fucking.

  I press my legs together beneath my desk and scroll through the list of this afternoon’s appointments. I don’t have another one scheduled until one-thirty. Maybe, in the meantime, I’ll sneak out early for my lunch break, drive home, and see if Brett’s there.

  Yeah, we have some shit to work out—something has to be going on with him, because why else would he have shown up in Lockton after ten years away?—but that doesn’t mean we can’t—

  I twist in my seat, snatching my purse out from the bottom desk drawer. If I leave right now, I can get there in seven minutes, and if he’s at his house—he probably will be, he’s got to get that thing in shape—then I’m definitely going to—

  My train of thought is violently derailed by a rapping at the doorframe and I freeze, the purse dangling from my hand.

  “Yoo-hoo!” my mother calls, waving like she’s at the opposite end of a train station.

  “Hey, Mom.” My heart sinks, the possible glory of this one lunch break dissolving in front of my very eyes. I force a smile onto my face. How was Mom supposed to know that I was fantasizing — hard — about Brett Miller?

  “You free for lunch? Don’t tell me you’re eating at your desk. You spend too much time in this office as it is.” She says this last part with a smile on her face that’s equal parts envy and worry that I’m not eating enough lunch, which makes me think of the cookies from last night.

  “Sure.” I stand up and go around the desk, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I was just about to step out anyway. Not eat at my desk.” I probably wasn’t going to eat at all if Brett was home, but that’s beside the point.

  “Buddy’s?”

  “Perfect.”

  My mom leads me out of the office into the late September sun. It’s unseasonably warm today, and I can’t help but bask in the golden fall sunlight. My mom tilts her head back and lets it shine onto her face.

  “Walk or drive?”

  “It’s only three blocks. Too nice to drive.”

  We chat on the way to Buddy’s, a small restaurant tucked in on a side street two blocks from the lakeshore. We’re just early enough to get a table before the lunch rush. That’s when my mom starts in with the real issue on her mind: my dad.

  She segues in from our conversation about the garden in front of my house, which I hate taking care of.

  “I want to rip out the entire thing and cover it in concrete.” I’m only half joking.

  “I wish your father would do the same thing and leave me out of it.”

  The waiter, an exceptionally tall, skinny guy who looks barely out of high school, comes by to take our orders. “A burger with everything,” I say, and my mom nods approvingly. “Add fries.”

  She orders her usual—a burger with cheese and lettuce, no bun. He leaves our drinks— Diet Cokes—and whisks the menus away before hurrying off toward the kitchen to place our orders. I open my mouth to try and change the subject, but Mom beats me to the punch.

  “He’s been such an unbelievable—” She covers her hand with her mouth, like I’m not twenty-eight years old, and then just shakes her head. “I just don’t understand what his problem is.”

  I sigh, keeping my breath silent and slow so she doesn’t notice. The problem is that Mom stayed home to be with me until I was ten years old, and even after she went back to work, she never found something she really wanted to do. Now she works part-time in the human resources department at a plant in town that manufactures windows that are then shipped out all over the country.

  “I come home, and he’s either not done anything around the house or he’s been out all day.”

  What’s happening—and she can’t see it because she’s still not happy with what she’s doing—is that my dad is experiencing freedom for the first time since I can remember. He spent thirty-five years as a teacher, working endless hours for not much pay, and finally retired. The fact that my mom is still working is what really rankles her, but she won’t admit it.

  Then there’s his mother, but that’s just another layer of her discontent.

  “I have a new neighbor.”

  “Really?” My mom perks up, her eyebrows practically in her hairline. “Which side? That run-down house or the nicer one on the left? Did that couple move out?”

  “The run-down one. It’s actually an old classmate of mine. Brett Miller.”

  Saying his name sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine, but a frown crosses Mom’s face. “Brett Miller.” She’s searching her memory, I know it, and whatever she comes up with won’t be favorable. Brett—and every other guy in his group at school—got up to regular shenanigans in high school, but nothing bad enough to warrant an arrest. Still— />
  “So he’s back in town.”

  “Yes, he’s back.”

  “Have you seen him?” She puts a slight emphasis on seen.

  “He took me out to breakfast.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this. It’s none of her business. But we’re here at lunch, and I really don’t want to talk about the failings she sees in my dad.

  “Well,” she says, with pursed lips. The waiter arrives with our food, sliding the plates in front of us and asking if we need anything else. When he’s gone, I pick up the ketchup, flip open the top, and add some to my burger. Once again, it’s not enough of an interruption to derail Mom.

  “I never did like him,” she says, picking up her fork and knife. “He broke your heart. And he was too wild.”

  He was just wild enough for me.

  “It’s not like I’m dating him, Mom.”

  “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

  I look at her across the table. Her forehead is tensed with a hint of worry, and it makes my heart ache a little for her. In one way, she’s right—Brett is unpredictable, and seeing him at all is a risk.

  I just don’t think I can stay away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Brett

  I stayed up until three o’clock last night applying for jobs in Lockton.

  It’s a far cry from my original goal when I left college, which was pursuing a career in the Air Force, but at least I’m not going after the minimum wage shit on the production lines. Lockton has a few thriving factories, and I have a degree in supply chain management, which is pretty fucking handy at this point. I applied for management positions at three different companies.

  My stomach curdles at the fact that none of this will be heroic—none of it will prove that I could get out of this town once and for all—but what the hell? I’m the one who chose to come back because it was calling to me every second I was gone.

  Although a few hours with Addison is making me think it wasn’t the town calling to me after all. It was her.

  Until I get the job situation sorted out, I have another priority—making this piece of shit house look less like a piece of shit. I start by stripping off the peeling paint from the wooden siding. I’m at it for forty-five minutes before it’s clear that the real issue is the siding, not the paint. This is going to take a while, but once it’s stripped and sanded and repainted, it’ll be fine.