The One who got Away_A Second Chance Romance

by Mia Ford

  Losing Janice a few years after Kelly was born had just made that even worse.

  “It’s okay,” Kelly said. “I guess.”

  “You guess?” I chuckled. “Sweetheart, this is the best room in the entire house. It’s got everything. Privacy, your own bathroom, and look here.” I pulled up one of the windows and pointed to the large ledge outside. “If you promise not to jump off, this place was great for reading.”

  Kelly raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Fine, for spending time on your phone,” I said.

  “Does the Wifi reach here?” Kelly asked, dumping her backpack on the floor and eyeing the room with scrutiny.

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. “We’ll have to ask Sam about that.”

  “If there’s no internet, I’m moving to another room,” Kelly warned.

  I shrugged and shook my head. “Suit yourself,” I said. “Just remember, the bathroom downstairs has no lock, and your grandfather could walk in on you by accident.”

  “Oh, gross, dad!”

  “Just saying,” I smiled, patting her suitcase as I made my way out. “Settle in, and I’ll see what your grandfather has got lying around that could pass for food.”

  “I have a feeling it’s going to be more than what we usually have,” Kelly called after me.

  “Love you, too, sweetheart!” I replied, taking the small staircase by twos to the second-floor landing.

  The house hadn’t changed much, mainly because my father had taken the downstairs guest room as his new bedroom and had left pretty much everything else the same. The master bedroom was locked, which I assumed was because he himself didn’t really want to go in, even after all these years. The other three rooms on the second floor were left unattended, unoccupied, and had a film of dust on every surface that would probably take a few days just to get cleaned up.

  I took the room closest to the attic, the one that had been mine before I had moved upstairs. The bed was small, the mattress uncomfortable, and the posters on the walls a reminder of a time when life was a lot easier. No dead mothers or wives, no shootouts, no drug rings killing away at our youth. My desk was at the same wall, under the window because my mother had believed that the view would help inspire me to work hard. Beside it was the closet that at one point in my life had seemed massive, and now just stood there collecting dust.

  I lifted my suitcase onto the bed, and took a step back when the dust flew up in small clouds. I was going to have to change the sheets, probably even clean the whole place up, and just the thought of it made me groan.

  Kelly’s room first.

  “Obviously, Janice,” I whispered in reply to the voices in my head. I shook my head, wondering just when I would start having full-on conversations with them that would make me look like I belonged in a fucking asylum.

  I opened the closet, cringed at the sight of the cobwebs, and closed the doors again. Out of my suitcase it is, I thought. The smart thing to do was get this place cleaned up now, but with the exhaustion from the drive and the fact that my leg was screaming bloody murder, I decided it could wait.

  Maybe even sleep on the couch?

  I sighed, stretched and ran a hand through my hair before exiting the room and making my way downstairs.

  My father was in the kitchen, the stove on and his nose buried in one of my mother’s old cook books. He was frowning, obviously confused by what he was reading and completely out of place with the flowery apron he had on.

  “Hey, dad,” I greeted, opening the refrigerator and being greeted by a sight I had gotten used to over the years; nothing. Well, beer and eggs, but little else other than what looked like baked potatoes with enough green on it to make you gag.

  “Hmmm,” Samuel offered in reply. He scratched his head and squinted at the page in front of him. “What the hell is a ‘dash of garlic’ anyway? How do you measure that?”

  I grabbed a beer, closed the refrigerator and sat at the kitchen table with a grunt. “When was the last time you actually cooked anything in here?” I eyed the pot sitting comfortably on the kitchen counter, gleaming in a way that assured me it hadn’t been used for years. Actually, the entire kitchen seemed spotless, the sure sign of a room unutilized.

  “I usually eat at The Red Roof,” he mumbled. “Anything I try to make ends up burnt anyway.”

  “Do you actually have anything to cook?”

  “Bought a few groceries on my way here,” Samuel replied. “Thought if I’m going to have to take care of two people other than myself, might as well make sure they eat properly.”

  “Thought this through, have you?”

  “Apparently not enough,” he answered, flipping through the pages and trying to make sense of what he was reading. I smiled to myself and took a drag from the beer.

  “This is hopeless,” he said, closing the book and taking the apron off.

  “Don’t do that,” I said. “The colors suit you.”

  “Alright, wise ass, I get it,” Samuel smiled, shooting me the fatherly look he usually gave me when he was exasperated. “How’s Kelly settling in?”

  “Offered her the attic,” I said. “She’s asking about the Wifi.”

  “The attic, huh?” Samuel opened the fridge and took out a beer for himself. “Alex Logan giving up his hideout?”

  “Passing it on,” I replied as he sat down. “She needs the space more than I do. I think she’s sick of her old man.”

  “Kids her age usually are,” Samuel waved. “You weren’t any easier at her age.”

  “She’s twelve and already acting like I should be sending her off to college.”

  “They grow up faster these days,” Samuel nodded. “Surprises me every time.”

  I shrugged and took another swig of the beer. Samuel sighed, took off his hat and wiped his brow with a handkerchief. He looked great for his age, but it was only now that I noticed how deep his lines had become and the bags under his eyes.

  “I’m waiting for the day she asks me for her own place,” I said.

  Samuel chuckled. “Believe me, when she’s gone, you’re going to wish she had stayed.”

  “I know,” I smiled. “It’s not easy, though.”

  “Preaching to the choir, son.”

  “I was a treat.”

  “You were a little brat,” Samuel said with a laugh, drinking his beer. “Reckless, stupid, and didn’t listen to anything I said. I’m surprised you found a woman who would put up with you.”

  “A lot easier than raising a girl.”

  Samuel gave me a bemused look. “Really?”

  “Yeah, at least you didn’t have to explain why blood came out of me every month.”

  “Did you teach her how to put on make-up as well?” Samuel asked. “Go dress shopping with her?”

  I laughed. “Fuck you.”

  Samuel chuckled and raised his beer to me, taking a long swig. “You’re doing a good job,” he said, looking at me seriously. “She’s a strong girl. Gonna make you proud one day, that one.”

  “She already does.”

  Samuel eyed me for a moment, smiled and nodded. “Good boy.”

  I watched my father for a few seconds, really taking him in. I owed the man a lot, and sometimes I wished I could be half the father for my daughter that he had been to me. I never really appreciated everything he’d done for me until I was stuck with a three-year-old, on my own, with nothing but YouTube videos for support.

  “By the way,” I said, leaning in and resting my elbows on the table. “Heath Collins passed by here today, just before you got back.”

  Samuel frowned. “What does that little prick want?”

  The change in tone took me a bit by surprise, and my DEA instincts kicked in. “Told me he wanted to talk to you about the acreage by the lake. Something about having friends who wanted to buy them.”

  “That shit’s been harassing me about that land for weeks now,” Samuel replied. “Got himself mixed up with the wrong kind of people, that one. Him and that other p
inhead, Garth Liston. His daddy owns the tire store out by the highway.”

  “Garth Liston?” Just saying the name left a bad taste in my mouth. I remembered Garth Liston. His parents had owned the biggest house on our street and Garth always acted like his shit didn’t stink. He was an entitled, smartass in high school; a fucking bully, a total jock until he blew his knee out. I expected that he had not changed much, given the look on my father’s face.

  “Yeah, that one,” Samuel said. “Piece of shit. Just like his old man before he died. I drive all the way to Kingston to buy tires. God forbid I put money into any Liston’s pocket.”

  I smiled. I loved it when the old man got riled. “What do they want the land for?”

  Samuel shrugged and shook his head. “Some hot shot from Atlantic City wants to build a kind of resort or something,” he said. “Got a license for a casino and all. It’s supposed to bring tourism into Kent, open up a bunch of jobs, all that.”

  “A casino? In Kent? Really?”

  “Hey, you got money you want to throw away, be my guest,” Samuel said. “Just don’t come knocking on my door.”

  “Did you know the name of the investor?”

  Samuel shook his head. “Nope. And couldn’t care less,” he said. “I’m not selling.”

  I sat back and tried to make sense of what my father was saying. Sure, a resort in Kent wasn’t a completely bad idea, especially with the junior college nearby and the sudden burst of gated communities all around. Still, there were dozens of places where something like this could have been more profitable, and a lot easier to set up. Heath’s interest in the land made a lot more sense now. I could see him grabbing onto an investment opportunity like this with teeth and claws. What Garth’s connection to all this was, though, I had no idea.

  “Does Garth still live in the old house up the street?” I asked. “Maybe I could drop by and get a better idea of what’s going on.”

  Samuel shook his head. “Moved out a long time ago. His mother married some rich guy by the name of Harlow, I believe, the guy who built Harlow Estates just outside town, near the college.”

  I remembered passing by the large sign that promised “A community for the elite” and thinking just how conceited the developers had to be to use that as their slogan.

  “He’s got his own house and all, opened a club right next to the student dorms. Called it something ridiculous, I can’t remember.”

  I made a mental note to check that out later.

  “Kent’s changed a lot since I’ve last been here,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Samuel replied, his face scrunching up in what I could only assume was disgust. “Anyway, Kelly isn’t going to be able to get through the day without a proper meal, so what do you wanna do?”

  “Red Roof sounds like a plan,” I offered.

  Samuel drained the rest of his beer and nodded. “Then Red Roof it is,” he said, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. “I’ll call her.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said, taking out my phone. “You wanna reach Kelly Logan, you gotta message her.”

  Chapter 6: Jenni

  “Dammit!”

  I turned the key in the ignition, waited for the engine to roar to life, and cursed again when all it did was sputter and die. I slammed my fists against the steering wheel, opened the door and stepped out into the night. The summer breeze that welcomed me was supposed to calm me down, but instead I felt like grabbing a baseball bat and hit on the car.

  I had been planning to change the battery a week ago, but never really got around to doing it. Now I was paying the price for my burst of procrastination. I looked up the street, toying with the idea of just walking the rest of the way, then quickly abandoned the notion. The café was at least three miles down the road, and by the time I’d get there, I wouldn’t be able to get any work done anyway. I had a better chance of walking home than trying to get any work done tonight.

  I cursed again, kicked at the wheel, and pulled out my phone, trying to decide on whether I should call my dad or Garth.

  Definitely, Garth. Dad’s just going to use this as an example of why you can’t be on your own, and he might even bring up the little ‘adventure’ you had in the back room this morning.

  Yeah, but Garth was going to be just as useless. He rarely answered the phone anyway, something I had learned early on. And even when he did, he always found some excuse to call you back.

  Which never happened.

  I scrolled through the contacts on my phone, wondering if I may have saved Pete’s Garage’s number somewhere, when the battery began to blink and the screen went dead.

  “Just my fucking luck!”

  I kicked at the wheel again, winced with the pain that shot up my leg, and hobbled back to the driver’s door. I took in a deep breath, trying my best to calm my nerves, and let it out in a long sigh. I looked up and down the road, hoping I could maybe hail someone down, but the streets were deserted. You’ll just have to wait.

  I looked across the street at the few houses that sat in a huddle around the ballpark, and considered my options. The typical ‘can I use your phone’ excuse might be a little too cliché, and even in Kent, people had begun to lock their doors.

  With the spike in recent crime rates, it’s not really a surprise.

  I opened the driver’s door, slumped into my seat and closed it with a slam loud enough to portray my frustration. Not that it mattered, really; no one was around to watch me break into a three-year-old’s tantrum. I fished in the glove compartment for a car charger, and when I didn’t find one, slammed that shut, too. The night couldn’t have gotten worse.

  Maybe you can get some work done here?

  I thought about that for a second, shrugged, and reached for my laptop in the backseat. I took it out, flipped the cover open and waited for it to start up. In the rearview mirror, I spotted twin lights in the distance. For a second, relief washed over me, and then the lights disappeared as the car turned onto another street. I sighed and settled back down, turning my attention back to the laptop.

  The battery only had thirteen percent left.

  I slammed the lid shut and lay my head back. Why I constantly forgot to charge my electronics, I had no idea. The only thing I was sure of was that if one thing went wrong, everything else probably would to.

  “Three dead batteries,” I said to the empty car. “That’s nursery rhyme material right there.”

  Another pair of lights illuminated the rearview mirror, and these didn’t swerve onto any other streets. I watched them approach for a few seconds, trying not to get my hopes up, and when I realized that the car might pass me by, I quickly stepped out and waved it down.

  The Ford truck slowed to a stop beside me, and I found myself gazing into eyes that seemed to glimmer in the little bit of light that the night had to offer. The man gazing back at me took me by complete surprise, and I found myself lost for words as my eyes traced the strong jaw and cheekbones down to the muscular arm leaning on the open window. Why, hello!

  I thanked whatever God was in heaven for the fact that he couldn’t see me blush.

  “Jenni?”

  I frowned, recognizing the voice immediately, and looked past the hunk in the passenger seat at Samuel Logan. He was leaning on the steering wheel to look at me, and between the two men sat a beautiful girl with thick brunette hair, probably no older than twelve or thirteen, with her eyes glued to her phone.

  “Sam!” I cried out, a wave of relief washing over me. “Am I glad to see you!”

  “What are you parked all the way out here for?” Samuel asked.

  I bit my lip, embarrassed as I looked from Samuel to his passenger and back. Those eyes! I felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

  “Battery died on me,” I replied, trying my best not to focus on the man still staring at me.

  “Did you try calling Pete’s?” Samuel asked.

  “Phone died, too,” I admitted, albeit a little more quietly.

  “Hold up,” Samuel
said, stepping out of the truck with a groan. “Let me see what we can do about that.”

  I watched him walk around the front of the truck, then looked back at the man in the passenger seat. He gave me a small smile and a nod, and I quickly returned both before following Samuel to my car. I unlocked the hood, and he pushed it up, locking it in place.

  “So, what happened?” Samuel asked.

  “Just stopped in the middle of the road,” I replied, briefly looking over my shoulder as the other man stepped out of the truck.

  “And it won’t start?”

  “Nope.”

  “Problem with the alternator,” the other man said, walking past me and reaching into the hood of the car. I saw him fiddle with the spark plugs before clicking his tongue. “At least that’s what it sounds like.”

  “Jenni, you know my son, Alex,” Samuel said.

  No fucking way!

  My eyes shot wide as Alex Logan smiled and reached out a hand. I took it, shaking it loosely and just stared at him. Like an idiot, I might add.

  “I think he babysat you a couple of time,” Samuel chuckled. “This is Hank’s little girl, Alex.”

  Alex nodded in recognition, his eyes never leaving mine, and I felt like I was beginning to drown in them. There was something more than just masculine about him. His entire demeanor reflected control and confidence, and for a second there I actually believed he could start my car with just the snap of his fingers.

  “Jenni Wright,” he said, smiling again. “I remember.”

  I remembered Alex from my old days, when he was a senior in high school and on his way to college. He had babysat me a few times, especially when my dad had to pull double shifts when we were short on staff, and I remembered him telling me that I could do whatever I wanted as long as I made sure to keep it down. He had even let me stay up late. I also remembered the childish little crush I had on him.

  “Surprised you’re still in Kent,” Alex was saying.

  “I’m managing the diner with my dad,” I replied. “And doing a little writing.”