Second Chance

by Willow Winters

  Second Chance

  Willow Winters

  Contents

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek at A Kiss To Tell

  1. Prologue

  About W Winters

  W Winters Reading Order

  Blurb

  Nathan always had the most beautiful smile.

  Every time I caught a glimpse of it, I had to smile too.

  It didn’t matter that he grew up on the wrong side of the city, I saw the good in him… even when he didn’t.

  * * *

  That wasn’t enough to keep us together in high school though.

  One night ruined everything. A night I’ll never forget.

  * * *

  Years have passed and now he’s on the cover of magazines and the star of movies.

  The reformed bad boy with with a charming smile that makes women weak in the knees.

  * * *

  No one knows what happened that night that forced us apart. No one can ever know.

  * * *

  I can’t tell him no, even if I wanted to.

  The moment he locked his light blue eyes on me again, I was ruined.

  I never stood a chance.

  * * *

  This romance was originally released in the Expose series and titled Heartthrob. It has been retitled and republished so everyone can read this gripping romance once again.

  Prologue

  Harlow

  Ten years ago

  April 12

  * * *

  The red, white, and bright blue lights reflect off the large glass windows of the liquor store. The sirens have stopped. I swear they were only screaming in my ear for a split second. They were loud enough to make my heart leap into my throat and send fear flowing freely through my blood.

  They were silenced quickly, as if turned on by mistake.

  I swear it was all an accident.

  “Nathan.” I say his name weakly, searching his cold gaze as I grip his wrists. My nails dig in as my throat goes dry. He doesn’t answer me, doesn’t give me a minute to ask questions. He merely blocks me from the view of the police car pulling up to the curb. His back is to the cops and he doesn’t turn to face them, even as the sound of the cruiser’s window rolling down drowns out the sound of my blood rushing in my ears.

  Nathan leans closer to me as my shoulder and ass hit the unyielding wall of the liquor store. His dark eyes look even darker and the lack of any emotion on his face forces my plea for him to tell me how to make this right to catch in my throat. “Don’t say a word,” he hisses in my ear.

  One second, one beat of my heart passes feeling caught in an eternity as I look up into the eyes of the boy I thought I loved. The boy I thought loved me back. “Don’t be stupid, Hally,” he says low, beneath his breath.

  But I never really knew him, did I?

  The boy I knew wasn’t capable of this.

  But it was only an accident.

  “Nathan, we have to-” I try to speak, but the words are silenced as he narrows his eyes. The shadows from the dim street lights make the sharp lines of his jaw look even more intense.

  “You two alright?” I hear a man say from behind us, but my eyes don’t break away from Nathan’s. It’s the cops. So close. So close to knowing everything that just happened only minutes ago.

  Nathan’s the first to break. He lets go of my forearm and turns his back to me, leaving the chill of the night to turn the thin sheen of sweat on my skin to ice. I wrap my arms around my chest and as I do, I see a small bit of blood on my arm and then more. Just a large scrape I think, but I’m quick to hide it. As fast as I can, I pull the thin sleeves of my sweater down my arms. It’s evidence.

  “We’re fine,” Nathan says, although I almost don’t hear him. My heart beats harder and faster; I’m desperate to escape as I stand on legs that quiver, legs too afraid to do anything.

  “And you, miss?” the cop says as a bright light flashes in front of me. The sudden light causes me to wince and then look up at him. The dark blue of his uniform looks black in the low light. The man is older with salt and pepper hair, and looks experienced and wise enough to know a lie. I don’t trust my voice, so I simply nod and almost cross my arms again, but then I remember the blood and my fingers grip the hem of my sweater to keep my arms at my sides.

  “You two look a little young to be out here,” the cop says, his eyes flickering from mine to Nathan’s.

  We’re in high school. Nathan’s a year older than me and a senior this year.

  “Are you from around here?” the cop asks and I’m not sure who he’s talking to, but Nathan answers for us both.

  His thin Henley pulls tight over his broad shoulders as he points his thumb behind him. “She’s from the Hills and I’m down here.”

  The cop’s jaw goes tense, his eyes burning into me but I don’t look back at him.

  I’m not supposed to be here. I hear it before the words even come from his mouth.

  I ignore everything that the cop says; I’m not interested in being told where I belong. The only thing I can concentrate on is my ability to breathe. I feel like I’m being suffocated. If I had just listened, none of this would have happened. I already know it’s true and that makes the guilt so much worse.

  “Can you take her home?” I hear Nathan ask and it’s as if that’s what they were waiting for. How could he? After what just happened, I’m shaking and fear is still raw and coursing through my blood. How could he leave me after that? Tears prick my eyes as I will him to justify it.

  But I already know the answer; it’s my fault. I should have stuck to my usual routine and not taken the wrong way home. The way that leads to nothing but trouble.

  I don’t care though. I’m scared. I can’t leave him; I can’t be by myself. I try to scream out, I try to grip his arm, but he whips around before I can do a damn thing and the heat in his eyes is something I never expected to see.

  The anger. So much anger.

  “I didn’t mean it,” I whimper out of instinct and then pray the cops didn’t hear. Please. He has to know I never wanted this. I never knew it would come to this. Please. Please, God, let me take it back. “I’m sorry.” The words crack as I say them.

  “I already told you we were over,” Nathan says in such a deep voice, rough and riddled with accusations. The guilt pounds through my veins, heating my blood and sending a shame through me that makes me sick.

  “We have to …” I start to tell him we need to confess. We have to tell the cops what happened.

  “We don’t have to do a damn thing and you better not say shit,” Nathan says with a thinly-veiled threat. “Get in that car,” Nathan says with certainty and conviction, and I lose all sense of composure.

  “Don’t ever come back, Hally,” Nathan says as I cover my mouth and keep the sobs from coming up. “I won’t tell you again,” he says beneath his breath, ignoring how my world is shattered and my body just wants to collapse and give in to the pain.

  I didn’t mean for this to happen. If I could just go back in time.

  The night is disturbed b
y the slam of the police car door and a second officer gets out of the car, stopping Nathan as he tries to leave. I can barely hear what they’re saying and I try to go to him. I will my legs to move, but the first officer is quick to grab my arm. I rip it away from him and stumble back, tripping over my feet and nearly falling as I look up at him, bewildered.

  “It’s alright,” the cop says easily, just now realizing how startled I am and I can’t help but notice the look he gives Nathan as if he’s to blame. He has no idea.

  “I need you to come with me,” the officer says with a stern voice, no negotiation apparent in his tone. As if he already knows the truth.

  Nathan turns to look back at me, but his jaw is clenched and the other officer is quick to get his attention again. Speaking low, in whispers, so I can’t hear. I can only see Nathan shake his head.

  I stare at Nathan as the officer talks, willing him to look at me as I’m pulled away from the street. I can’t hear a word, not from the officer leading me away and not from the officer speaking to Nathan. My shoes click on the sidewalk, the cold night air making each breath hurt more and more.

  It’s almost like everything’s happening in slow motion. It seems to last an eternity. Each detail captured clearly.

  With every second that passed, I could have said something. With every second I could have apologized.

  But before I knew it, he was walking away, and I was being driven in the opposite direction.

  I stare out of the window, tears burning my eyes as he disappears from view. The dark night only illuminated by a street light and the bright neon glow of a bar. I keep my eyes on the cracked concrete sidewalk rather than look up at the people leaning against the brick wall of the building as we slowly come to a stop at a red light.

  “Are you alright, miss?” the cop asks me again, turning in his seat to face me, but I don’t have the decency to look him in the eyes as I lie.

  No. I’m not okay. I’ll never be okay.

  But no one can know.

  It was ten years ago and although that night should have traumatized me for an entirely different reason, the fact that I listened to Nathan and didn’t come forward is what haunts me.

  It’s a funny thing, fate. Life goes on day after day and I didn’t notice how all the pieces were lining up like dominoes. I tried to smile as the weeks turned into months and months turned into years, thinking I’d left my past behind me. I thought I knew what was going on around me. I thought I’d survived and had a new life, with the truth of that night being buried ten feet under.

  But fate put me where I’m standing right now.

  Fate’s the reason the dominoes are falling, crashing into my reality and leaving me shattered.

  It’s so easy to blame fate. But I don’t have any other explanation.

  Nathan didn’t plan this, and neither did I.

  It’s a funny thing, fate. It loves to fuck you over.

  Chapter 1

  Harlow

  * * *

  “Holy shit,” I say, the words slipping out under my breath. I barely hear them myself. I swallow thickly and then wipe my sweaty palms on my plum pencil skirt. A gust of wind blowing along East Fifty-fifth Street causes my loose cream blouse to billow and sends a chill down my heated skin.

  I barely feel it though, as I stand here feeling like a fraud.

  I've always been a normal girl with a normal life. Everything happened so quickly and I just kept nodding my head in disbelief. And now I’m here. Standing outside of the St. Gerard hotel. It’s a sleek and modern building made of black glass and shiny steel. It’s full of a hustle and bustle that echoes the busy streets of New York, but with an edge and sophistication that doesn’t allow for outsiders. It’s high end and only meant for the who’s who of New York City.

  And I’m expected to walk through those doors. Just a girl from the suburbs who always dreamed of getting an inch closer to the city.

  My heart races thinking about holding my head up high and squaring my shoulders, pretending like I belong here. There’s only so much a person can fake and right now, I can’t even pretend to have confidence. Fake it till you make it. I say the motto over and over. It’s worked for me so far.

  “I know, right?” Lydia says with a different air to her tone than mine. Not quite disbelief, more like the sound of accomplishment. The voice someone uses when they know they’ve made it and they’re damn proud.

  Sometimes, I wonder at what point she went from being my first client at the agency to a friend. Since day one, only months ago, the air between us has been easy and she’s only shown me a sweet side that’s made it easy to confide in her. Today, of all days, I need someone to lean on and to ground me. I couldn’t have lucked out more.

  “Like, ho-ly shit,” I say each syllable separately, thankful that she’s hell-bent on keeping me from making an utter fool of myself.

  This is my first real time on set, even though I’ve been interning with one of the top talent agents in Manhattan for months. This is my first time at a real shoot. Well, maybe not today, but sometime in the next few weeks. Not that I wanted this. I never asked for it and a happy accident led me here. It’s Lydia’s fault. The bitch set me up. A smile slips onto my face at the thought.

  Lydia was made to be a star, with high cheekbones and straight black hair that’s never needed a keratin blowout. She’s going to kill it in there and earn her place in this industry. She’s supposed to be here.

  “We got this,” she says as she maneuvers the Louis Vuitton bag onto her shoulder and smacks her lips together, but the stain doesn’t budge on her lips.

  “I don’t know if I can do this,” I say softly, my eyes traveling along the etched glass sign above the doorway. My gaze follows the glass elevator as it moves seamlessly up the 150-story building until my eyes can’t focus on it anymore. The glare of the sun forces me to slip my sunglasses back into place. I feel sick to my stomach.

  Lydia just smiles, her bright red lips thinning as her pearly whites flash back at me. “You know those aren’t your lines, right?” she asks and then glides the tip of her tongue across her teeth and steps forward, ignoring the dozens of people hurrying to move around us as if we don’t even exist. She’s not intimidated by the building, the people, or the expectations we’re about to walk into.

  Ever since high school, almost ten years ago now, I’ve thought about what it would be like to be an actress. I didn’t dare to really dream of it though. I thought I could do casting calls or learn to be an agent. Something in the industry, but I never hoped to actually participate on screen. My first summer out of college as an intern proved this industry moves fast and I need to be prepared for anything.

  “Four weeks of this,” Lydia says as a woman in a chic pink Chanel tweed dress and a thin black patent leather belt around her waist walks past us. It’s hard not to notice her. Her hot pink pumps click loudly on the sidewalk, and even with the traffic and other people moving about, she stands out as a force that refuses to blend in. She walks right ahead of us, a large Dooney and Bourke purse in the crook of her arm and the doors open without hesitation, allowing her entry.

  My heart flips once, then twice, as my legs turn to jello and she disappears beyond the black glass. Lydia mumbles something incoherently, gripping my arm and making me nearly topple over. “That was Julie Rays! Julie!” she squeals.

  I stare back at her, bewildered. I should know that name. I should know everyone on set. It was my job at the agency to know anyone worth knowing in this industry. But for the life of me, my mind is blank. I force a smile and nod my head as Lydia gathers her composure. Her smile is infectious; her confidence, her everything.

  Julie Rays. I say her name in my head over and over. “Oh, shit. Julie Rays.” It finally clicks and my eyes widen as I search beyond the glass for her figure, but she’s gone. Julie’s an up-and-coming actress. The star of not one, but two new top-rated shows on television last year. I should have recognized her in a heartbeat. She’s one of the h
ottest actresses right now and she just walked past me only a few feet away.

  “Oh my God, do you think she’s on the same set?” I ask Lydia, who lets a sly smile slip onto her face. We don’t know a single thing about the stars of the show. To control publicity, NDAs are standard before shooting begins.

  “Don’t leave me,” I tell Lydia as she starts to move toward the building. The request comes out in a single breath and more like a desperate question than anything else.

  “There’s no way I’m letting you go anywhere without me,” she says with a wink and pulls me toward the doors. Lydia doesn’t even break her stride as the doorman pulls the all-glass door wide open and tips his head to greet her.

  My feet move in unison with Lydia’s pace as I take in the expansive lobby. The high ceilings make the ambient sounds echo in the large room. To the right side is an open-concept restaurant and I only take a quick glance. There are high-end shops on my left and an enormous fountain in the very center. Just beyond, there’s a large mahogany desk that spans the length of the open lobby. The reception desk. Right where we’re headed.

  One of the four women behind the desk looks up at us with a smile, her platinum blonde hair pulled back tightly into a high bun. Everyone in here oozes wealth and sophistication.

  “You’re fine,” Lydia whispers to me and her voice makes me turn to her. “If you could stop gripping me like you’re about to float away, I’d appreciate it,” she says.