Second Chances

by H. M. Ward

  Tipping his forehead against mine, he reaches for my hands and when he lifts them, he stops. Pain flashes across his face at my bare fingers, but he swallows it back. Breathing deeply, he says, “It’s normal, you know that right? You’re not mine anymore, Genevieve. I won’t see you again, not for a long time. I love you, baby.”

  His words ring clearly, even though in past dreams I have no idea what he’s said. Then he steps away from me, but I just stand there. He takes another step back, and then another. I scream for him to stop, and hold out my hands, but he doesn’t return. I can’t move my feet, I can’t run to him and make him stay. Cade moves away until he’s just a speck and then the blackness swallows him whole.

  I wake up in a cold sweat, full of guilt with fresh tears dripping into my hair, and dart upright in the bed, shaking. The blankets can’t remove this chill because it feels like my soul is frozen. I won’t see Cade again. He’s not coming to my dreams anymore and, wherever he’s gone, he’s finally at peace. He was telling me to do the same, but I can’t. Pulling my knees up, I rest my head on them, and wrap my arms around my ankles. Sobs shake my body because I can’t accept this. I just can’t.

  Biting my lip, I look over at my cell. I don’t think, I’m too broken to have any thoughts. As if possessed, I pick up the phone and text Daniel.

  Sometimes it seems like tomorrow will never come.

  Immediately, I regret it. It’s the middle of the night—no matter how thoughtful he is, he doesn’t want to hear from me at two in the morning. I toss the phone across the bed, not expecting to receive a reply. Seconds later, though, the screen lights up. Hesitantly, I crawl across the bed and pick up the phone.

  Just breathe, Genevieve. Sometimes you have to live life breath by breath and that’s ok. A single tear rolls down my cheek.

  I type back I want to sleep, but I can’t. I can’t shut out the grief for long enough to shut off my brain. I’m sorry to bother you so late. I don’t know why I did it.

  I feel bad for doing this to him. This is my grief and my loss. No one can get to the other side for me. I have to do it myself. The screen glows again.

  You’re not a bother. I’m here 4 u. Seriously. Now, close your eyes and think of cookies, really big ones. His response makes me smile.

  Cookie cars? I reply.

  Cookie trains.

  Cookie chairs.  I’d never have any place to sit. I’d totally eat them all.

  And that’s why my house isn’t made of cookies.

  I smile at the phone. Thank you. Goodnight, Daniel.

  Chapter 9

  "Hey, Baby Boy," I coo at CJ, smiling when he grins widely, showing off a few pearly baby teeth. About a week has passed since his fever last broke, and I'm so thankful he's better now. I don't ever want to feel so helpless again. Reaching down, I tickle his tummy lightly, loving his belly laugh. That sound warms my heart. We’re sitting on the back porch. CJ is sitting outside on a blanket and playing with trucks, while Daniel pushes the lawnmower across the grass.

  Over the past few weeks, I’ve become keenly aware of the man Daniel has become—and it’s not just because he’s pushing a lawnmower around in my backyard, shirtless and glistening sweat, though that does help. The luster defines his muscles, like he was perfectly cast by the gods and shellacked to endure the ages. I'm sure it's not the first time I've seen him shirtless over the years, but, for the first time, I’m paying attention.

  His shoulders are broad, with smooth tanned skin. There’s a scar on his upper right arm, a thin white gash that’s barely noticeable due to the tattoo that bands around his bicep in an old Celtic pattern. I wonder if he did it to hide the scar or for another reason. It’s high enough on his arm that his t-shirt usually covers it. His muscles bulge as he pushes the mower up an incline. My bottom lip is in my mouth and although I’m watching CJ out of the corner of my eye, I can’t rip my gaze from Daniel. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing a black Calvin Klein waistband. The heat and work make the denim damp and heavy. I’d asked him once why he wears jeans all the time when it’s a hundred degrees outside, but he just smiled and said something about getting shrapnel tossed at him from the mowers. I think there must be another scar on one of those legs, one that he doesn’t want people to see—one that he doesn’t want to discuss – and I can’t blame him. At least my scars are hidden when I’m not hysterically crying.

  I glance down at my hand. I decided to move my wedding band, and only the band, to my right hand. The engagement ring is upstairs in my room. Cade may be gone, but it still means something to me, and that little piece of metal is filled with memories that I don’t want to forget. At the same time, things have changed. This little change is a tiny step forward, but it feels like a giant leap. We’d talked about getting an anniversary band, but that wasn’t supposed to be for another ten years. This ring wasn’t supposed to be on this hand now. I smile at a memory that pops up. It’s one of the first times that the sharp blast of colors and shadows isn’t accompanied by tears and remorse. Cade was a good man.

  I glance up and can’t help but notice another good man standing right in front of me. When he’s around, I don’t feel the age difference between us, even though any onlooker could spot it in an instant. I don’t want to think about it. Right now, it looks like I’m outside with my baby while the guy takes care of the lawn. No one knows that he’s been taking care of me, that we’ve been texting, and then calling. Daniel has become a bright spot in my day and right now I can't pull my gaze away from the sight of him and that washboard stomach I felt against me when we were dancing. And he's out here broadcasting that beautiful body to anyone who comes by. He knows he looks good, and he definitely knows how to use what he's got.

  It’s as if Daniel can feel the weight of my eyes on him, because he turns to look at me as he grabs the rag that's been pushed through a belt loop on his pants and proceeds to wipe the sweat off his brow. An image flashes through my mind, uncalled, but it bursts like a firework behind my eyes in a display of glory—I can see myself drawing the pad of my finger over those toned muscles, tracing the rises and falls of his chest down to his waist. I gasp and look away. Where did that come from? My face heats at the thought, I feel like the world's biggest creeper. When I have enough guts to glance up again, I expect him to scowl at me, but he must like whatever he sees on my face, because he smiles and flashes his bright teeth at me.

  Why did I check him out? That’s what I just did, right? He’s too young! I want to smack myself in the head, but it’d be more obvious that I’m crazy, so I just sit there and smirk back. I’m such a creeper. And now that I’ve noticed him, I can’t undo it. I finally see him—all of him—and the splendid way his strong body gleams in the sun. Damn, it’s hot out here.

  I seriously need to use Lanie’s present that’s been sitting unopened in the box until now. She bought me a vibrator as a happy six weeks postpartum present. Really, who does things like that? The girl is absolutely mental. But thoughts of Lanie vanish when Daniel looks up.

  Our eyes lock, causing my stomach to dip as I watch his blue eyes darken from across the yard. It makes my heartbeat quicken and I want to squirm in my seat and press my thighs together, but I don’t dare move. He can’t know what I’m thinking. What the hell is wrong with me? I look away, but it doesn't help. No man has made me feel this way since Cade. It's been more than two years since I even thought about sex, let alone entertained thoughts of having it. Having your husband die suddenly, leaving you to raise a child by yourself, doesn't do great things for your libido. Not to mention, even thinking about doing that with someone other than Cade not only terrifies me, it makes me feel guilty.

  Cade should be here. Cade should be the one I'm having these thoughts about. My husband, who is the complete opposite of Daniel, with his blonde hair and brown eyes. He was tall and slim whereas, Daniel isn't quite as tall, but is far more muscular. Cade was strong, there's no denying that, but he was strong in a lanky sort of way, where Daniel's muscles
ripple appealingly as he moves.

  Oh. My. So my libido isn’t dead after all. Things tingle and I feel way too hot as a stupid smile spreads across my mouth. I try to stop it, but I can’t, not when Dan’s around. Then, it dawns on me that all the calls, the texts—the way we’ve been flirting. Oh god, this whole time, I’ve liked Daniel and didn’t even notice. My brain didn’t think ahead, but that half naked body parading in front of me has pushed my thoughts to the next step. I’m attracted to the man. My lip quivers and drops slightly. How? When?

  The realization shocks me to the core. I glance up at him again, and duck my head before he can notice. This feels like middle school. My pulse is pounding and my heart is slapping around in my chest like a wonky tire about to fly off the axle and go flying down the highway. How did I miss it? The way he makes me feel doesn’t put us in the friend zone, it’s more than that. I feel like a woman when he looks at me, and it makes me feel good. I like it when those blue eyes land on me and Daniel flashes that sexy grin my way. I try so hard to draw it out, and it takes so little for him to offer one.

  Cade always said my eyes were the most expressive part of my body, and the last thing I need is for Daniel to know that I'm attracted to him. I’m sitting frozen, with worry pinching my face. This is wrong. My friends and family could not accept a relationship like this. I grab hold of my mental reins and yank them back, hard.

  My inner voice, the one in the closet, sticks her lips under the crack in the door and says, It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t think of you that way, so it doesn’t matter. Stop freaking out.

  Now I remember why I don’t listen to that part of me. She’s annoyingly right, and brutally honest. In this case, she’s totally right, and I calm down. I glance up at the sun, feeling the warm light on my face and smile as I let out a long breath of air.

  Then everything goes to hell.

  The lawnmower stops and the silence nearly knocks me out of my chair. Remember that crazy chick in middle school—the one that had a mad crush on a guy and hid in her locker when ever he walked by?—yeah, that was me. If I hadn’t just figured out that I was returning Dan’s friendship with a mad crush, I would have invited him in for a drink, but now I'm freakishly frantic to get the baby inside before he can make his way over.

  Just as I reach for the door handle, I feel his heat at my back. I stiffen and freeze, feeling an icy chill drip down my spine. A flurry of thoughts flutter through my mind:

  Touch me.

  Don’t touch me.

  I’m Cade’s.

  I want to be yours.

  You’re too young.

  I’m too old.

  He’s right there, you ass, stop acting like a child and say something!

  "Genevieve?" his voice is full of questions I don't want to answer, so I force myself to stand still, facing the door. I can just barely see his reflection in the pane, the concerned frown on his face is obvious. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pray that he will take the silent hint and go away. I'm not that lucky though and there’s no way I’m telling him a thing. I’ll deny my feelings forever. I can’t lose his friendship, it’s too important to me. Why did I have to sit out here? If I didn’t realize the way I feel about him, this wouldn’t be all awkward and weird. I hoist CJ up higher on my hip and try to decide what to do.

  Before I can make a decision, Daniel's hand brushes my arm. Then he takes my hand in his, forcing me around to face him. I'm eye level with his chest and the sight of all that tanned, glistening skin gets to me. Add in the hint of his cologne, mixed with the scent of freshly cut grass and something that's all him. It's intoxicating. I want to lean in and sniff him from his navel to his nose. The thought nearly makes me giggle, but I swallow it back. The result is a stern, gassy look. Wonderful, I look like I’m going to burp.

  Dan’s hand lingers on mine for just a few seconds, and he offers a boyish smile. It makes me feel like I can fly. Energy that was gone comes surging back and in that instant I think I could run a marathon if it meant I could run into his arms at the finish line. God, I hope he can’t tell how much I like him. I take a steady breath and Daniel releases me, but even after he lets go, I can still feel the sensation of his fingers against mine.

  Fake it. Fake it. Fake it. Pretend nothing changed. You can do it. Just turn around and say it. I spin on my heel. "Oh, hi Daniel," I say in an attempt to sound nonchalant. I fail miserably, my voice too breathy, like a phone sex operator. But, when I try to lift my chin it’s like it’s tied to the ground. I’m unable to look him in the eyes. It’ll give me away and I’m afraid he’ll run if he knows what I’m thinking, how I’m feeling. What twenty-year-old guy wants an old widow with a baby drooling over him?

  Daniel bends slightly, tipping his head, and bringing us eye to eye. The look on his face is understanding, like he knows what I'm thinking and it makes me tense a little more. "How's CJ today?" he asks, his concern completely genuine.

  We talked last night, so he already knows, but I’m glad he cares enough to ask. I look down at my little man and answer, "He's much better." I try to smile reassuringly at Dan, but it falls flat. All I can think about is how he saw me, and everything in my life, at its worst. Come to think of it, that’s all he’s seen for a really long time. Some psycho-babbler said the status of your household reflects the inner status of your being. In explanation, my life has gone to hell and so has my living room. Dan’s seen it all. I’ve called him in tears and covered his shirt in snot. He probably thinks of me like a second mother or something. Meanwhile I can’t stop inhaling his scent. I look like a druggie who found the glue aisle.

  Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I swing CJ around to my other hip. "Thank you for helping me the other night.” I smile, but it feels like someone tied my tongue in knots. “I appreciate the texts and the late night calls. Really, I don't know what I would have done without you. Thank you." The words are hard to say. I hate having to rely on anyone but myself, it makes me feel weak, like I've failed somehow. But, Daniel has never made me feel like that. I called him. We talked, and hearing his voice helped.

  Daniel shrugs, as his cheeks turn pink. "No worries. It really wasn't a big deal. I'm glad I could help." He looks nervous now, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "Uh...Genevieve?"

  "Please, call me Gen," I tell him, feeling much more confident now that he's so obviously unsure.

  Clearing his throat, he nods. "Right. So, Gen, I was wondering..." The blush on his cheeks gets darker, and I'm really wondering what on earth he's trying to say. A streak of panic races through me. Is there toilet paper hanging from my pants? Do I have something gross on my face? Oh God, did CJ spit up on me and I missed it? But I stand there and smile dumbly, resisting the urge to look at whatever he’s trying to tell me is wrong.

  Finally, his words rush out and it takes me a moment to decipher what it is he's asking. "Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? You and CJ...not a date or anything, just, uh, hanging out." He continues in a hurry, "We don't have to go anywhere. I could just pick up a pizza and maybe a movie or something?" The way his eyes dart between mine and the ground is adorable, and it sounds like he’s asking me on a date at first, until he very clearly clarifies.

  At first, I'm too shocked to say anything. I just stand there with CJ on my hip and my jaw dropped.

  My inner voice, Little Miss Logic, is beating the door with a broom, but I’m not letting her out. She yells inside my head, SAY SOMETHING!

  Blinking, I snap myself out of it and smile. I look down at CJ to hide whatever expression is on my face. "Oh...I...I don't know what to say. Dinner? As friends?"

  "Yeah," he says with a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I just, I really don't want to go home yet." Something in his voice tells me that his invitation is the equivalent to a late night text from me. Empathy shoots through me and I get it. He just wants some company for a while, and to avoid whatever’s bothering him.

  That's definitely something I understand. "Okay, sounds great." Turnin
g, I walk inside, before holding the door open and gesturing for him to come with me.

  "Do you mind if I borrow your shower before we leave?" he asks sheepishly.

  I shake my head. “Of course not. I’m sure you’ll feel better after you get all the grass and awesomeness off you.”

  His dark brow lifts. “Awesomeness?” He tries not to laugh.

  “Yeah,” I mutter, not knowing exactly where I was going with it. It kind of just popped out. Daniel with no clothes—more awesome than Daniel with clothes. Yeah, I should say that out loud and see how fast he takes off. I laugh it off. “I have mommy brains. I don’t know what I’m saying half the time.”

  He smiles at me for a moment. I can feel his gaze on my back as we walk through the house. I set CJ down in his playpen and pluck a set of towels from the closet and when I get ready to hand them over, Daniel holds up a finger.

  "Thanks. One second, I have some extra clothes—let me just go grab them."

  Nodding, I watch him jog down the stairs before letting the door shut. Looking down at my son, I see him watching me, his eyes bright. "I guess Daniel's having dinner with us tonight. What do you think about that little guy?" CJ grins, clapping his chubby little hands together so hard that he falls over. I can't help but smile. I rush over and help him sit up again, kissing the top of his head as I do.

  When Daniel comes back inside, he’s running his hand through his hair. “I really appreciate this, Gen. I know you have things to do. Are you sure it’s okay?” He’s standing there, holding a gym bag in one hand, half naked in my foyer.

  “Of course it’s all right. God knows I’ve bothered you enough times.” No! That came out wrong.

  He steps toward me, his eyes locked on mine, his expression serious. “You’re never a bother. I’ve told you that a million times. But this—am I overstepping? I really don’t mind if you need space.”