One More Chance: A Second Chance Romance (One More Series Book 3)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  I didn’t know why she was even there. I wanted to know. I opened my mouth to ask, but all that came out was a cough, which made my chest pound with pain. Opal let go of my hand and passed me a glass of water with a straw.

  “You need to rest. I’ll come back later,” she told me shortly, but I wrapped my hand around her wrist.

  “Fuck! What do you want?” I asked her slowly.

  She stepped away, getting out of my grip, and leaned against the wall with her arms folded across her chest. “I work here, Ethan. You’re in a hospital,” she told me.

  I looked around. I’d figured out the hospital bit, and now I realized that she was, in fact, wearing her uniform.

  “What would be a better question is, what are you doing here?” she asked after a moment.

  I looked away. Everything was hitting me all at once and looking at her was breaking my heart. She was as beautiful as I remembered, even with that stern look on her face. I didn’t feel like telling her anything. At the same time, I wanted to tell her everything; I wasn’t even sure how it all worked.

  “Car crash…” I responded shortly, trying to avoid the details.

  She let out a long breath. “I know that. I know a lot could have changed over the years, but you’ve been driving since we were in our teens and I never saw you have as much as a sip of a beer and drive, you were a more than apt driver by the time we went to college, and you were never a moron. So how does a guy like you end up scraped out of a wreck of a car wrapped around a lamp post with a ridiculous amount of alcohol in his system?” she asked as she straightened up.

  I looked away again. How could I even begin to explain anything to her? Could I still trust her? She was right, it’s been years, and a lot could have changed. She sighed softly and looked back at me, relaxing a degree. She straightened up and adjusted her badge.

  “Never mind. Sorry I asked. It’s none of my business. I’ll swing by later. Try and get some rest, you need your strength to recover,” she told me and headed for the door.

  I sniggered. “No point,” I muttered before slowly and painfully rolling onto my side. I was expecting to hear her walk out. Instead, I heard her take a long, deep breath.

  “You’re not going to get better if you don’t put any effort into it. Doctor’s orders and all,” she replied slowly.

  I couldn’t help but snigger again. I didn’t particularly care about getting better. In fact, I wished I’d hit that damn lamp post even harder. I wanted to ask her to stay with me, but I knew that I didn’t have the right to make any requests. I wanted to say something, ask something, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “Why do you care?”

  I heard her let out a frustrated breath as I slowly faced toward her again. She was walking back to the chair next to my bed and sat down heavily. She fixed her gaze on me before she spoke.

  “I still do care about you, Ethan. I know we aren’t exactly as thick as thieves, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care,” she told me.

  I could almost see her tense every muscle in her body. I stayed silent. I hadn’t been alone with her for so long; I wanted to tell her everything, but I didn’t feel like I had the right to dump all my problems on her after barely exchanging a dozen words in the last few years. I decided to remain silent, but I could feel her gaze on me.

  “What happened to you, Ethan?” she asked softly as she looked at me.

  I looked away, but, without any conscious decision from me, my mouth opened and everything came out.

  “I found Claire in bed with Martin. After all these years, after everything we shared, and she was the only thing that felt real. You can't fucking trust anyone on Wall Street. I thought that the only two people I could trust in the whole city were on my side. I never knew that they were fucking. How had I been so blind?

  “I can’t trust anyone or believe anyone anymore. What’s the point of going on if you’ve got nothing and no one you can trust?” I asked, almost tasting the bitterness of my words.

  She sighed and shook her head. “I just can’t understand her. You seemed happy together. My mom told me about you guys every now and then, and it always seemed like she cared about you,” she muttered as if unsure what to say.

  I laughed shortly, then coughed as my chest disagreed with the laughter. “Yeah, I thought the same, but I was wrong,” I told her.

  She uttered some phrases of disbelief before moving closer to my bed. She stared at me in silence for a moment. “You’ve always come across as so confident and…well, easy-going, comfortable with pretty much anyone,” she told me.

  I could not help but smile. Opal knew me better than anyone, she knew the truth, but she had always pretended to fall for my front. Sometimes I wondered whether it was to protect my dignity or to avoid my blatant denial. This time I opted for honesty.

  “It didn’t feel like that. It was easier to pretend than it was to open up…” I told her.

  She gently placed her hand on my shoulder.

  “Wish you were more honest with me before, Ethan,” she muttered.

  I winced. I knew that often I’d made her wonder whether I trusted her when we were younger. She always knew when something was wrong, but I never really told her much. It was easier not to. I didn’t want to bother her with my issues, and I didn’t want the world to know that I struggled.

  She usually found a way to get me to open up, eventually. I looked at her for a while. There seemed to be more we both had to say, but neither of us did. Instead, I changed the subject to something or other trivial. I asked her about a good pizza place nearby, and we talked a bit about current news articles. She left after a while, leaving me alone with my thoughts once more. It was nice to see her, but it didn’t feel right. Nothing did. What I had with Opal was lost years ago. I had no one left, and the thought of facing life on my own was terrifying. I no longer had a purpose or a direction.

  Nothing seemed to matter, and all I ever believed seemed to have either shattered or proven to be just an illusion. I didn’t feel strong enough to deal with it; I didn’t feel strong enough to deal with anything at all. The doctor who was in charge of my case visited a couple of hours after Opal left. He told me that there was some damage to my nervous system. He used a lot of medical terms I didn’t fully understand. He told me that the overall prognosis was good, but it would take a while for me to return to full capacity. As he left, I decided to try and sleep. I didn’t feel like I could cope with anything else. I’d had enough.

  Chapter 11

  Opal

  I spent a lot of time thinking as I checked on Ethan every day. I wasn’t sure whether we were ever going to be close again, but I did know I wanted to make sure he was fully recovered and could move on with his life. I decided to have a quick glance at his chart. He wasn’t one of my patients, but I still preferred to personally check his care. One of the other doctors smiled at me as I was leaving Ethan’s room.

  “Well, well. One would have thought that you’re the one with a head injury, O.” He laughed as he passed me in the hallway.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Dare I ask why?” I responded smiling back; it wasn’t uncommon for us to joke with each other and banter to relieve the stress of our work.

  “Well, I’ve never seen you so involved with a patient before. Almost as if you were sweet on him or something. You’ve been a lot less reserved lately. We’ve noticed,” he told me with a shrug.

  I froze for a moment as I felt myself blush. It was true that I’d spent a lot of time checking on Ethan, and I realized I’d been a bit more open with people around me. I wasn’t exactly going to go into all that in the hospital hallway.

  Instead, I laughed and made a joke about someone spiking my morning coffee before we parted to go about our own business. As I clocked out of my shift, I went straight into Ethan’s room. It had become something of a routine for me to visit him before and after my shift, and sometimes I’d pass by during my breaks.

  I sat on the chair next to his bed and dumped
my backpack under it before glancing at the chart. While physically he was recovering as well as you’d expect, I knew something else was wrong. He was quiet and kept our conversations as shallow as possible. I wasn’t sure whether things had changed that much since we were kids, but I knew he’d always kept his problems to himself. Often it was better to act as if you had gone blind, deaf, and stupid than ask him what was wrong. I looked at the tray in front of him.

  “You haven’t eaten much,” I pointed out. His food was barely touched.

  “Not hungry,” he replied shortly.

  I looked closely at his face, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that he’d been crying. I considered muttering something about the quality of our hospital food and offering to grab something for him from the café but decided against it. Instead, I leaned forward and slipped my hand into his.

  “Spit it out,” I said shortly.

  He glared at me. “There isn’t much to say,” he grumbled.

  I sighed. “You need to try and get your strength back. Barely touching your food isn’t going to make that easier,” I told him as I brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

  He chewed his lip in silence for a moment. “What for?” he asked after a long pause.

  I leaned forward, as I’d noticed one of his dressings needed adjusting. He hissed as I brushed past. I apologized swiftly. The more time I was spending with him, the more I realized that I was still head over heels in love with him. I decided not to dwell on that particular issue at this point. Instead, I focused my gaze on him again.

  “I’ve already explained. You need your strength to get better,” I said carefully, as I could sense that his emotions were boiling up.

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Opal, what do I have left? My mom is dead. My fiancée's gone. I don’t think Martin and I are much in the way of friends anymore, considering that, as I mentioned before, he is banging my now ex-fiancée. Oh yeah, I had a true, loyal, caring best friend, but that’s been gone for the last…eight years? So, tell me exactly what do I have to look forward to? Let’s think nice and hard: my job may, or may not, take me back if I’m able to do it, but I honestly doubt that after a sick leave this long they’d be thrilled with the idea. My condo…well, I’m not sure whether it’s Claire’s or mine now, if I have to be honest. Either way, I can’t stand the idea of living there, so she might as well keep it. No job, no house, no car, no family, no fiancée, and no best friend. You’re right; it’s all sunshine and rainbows,” he snapped after another long pause.

  I took his hand into mine.

  “Ethan… I’m not saying it’s all perfect. You have a lot on your plate, and it’s not going to be easy. I’m saying that you need your energy and strength to deal with that pile of crap. I can’t speak for anything else, but… I’m still here for you and always will be. Yes, we’ve had our differences, but you never lost me, not really. I was always just a message or a phone call away,” I told him slowly.

  He glared at me and quietly stared at his blanket. Neither of us said much more. After a long silence, we exchanged some casual comments before I left. As I walked to my car, I thought about everything that had been said and things that were going on in my head. The real reasons why I hadn’t dated for the last few years. The main reason why I’d avoided getting close with anyone. I still loved Ethan.

  That wasn’t to say I hadn’t been with anyone else since that fateful night… I had, but I’d never wanted anything serious. I kept my relations casual and non-committal. I didn’t feel comfortable with opening up to anyone, and I didn’t want to risk getting hurt again. I didn’t see a future with anyone other than Ethan. I took a scenic route home, feeling like I needed to clear my head before I could get on with my evening routine.

  Chapter 12

  Ethan

  I only half listened to the long explanation the physical therapist was giving me. I knew I agreed to do the physical exercises, but right then my mind was elsewhere. The woman confirmed that we were starting the next day and gave me some booklets to read. Opal’s mom, Olivia, visited for a bit.

  “How are you today, Ethan?” she asked as she sat down next to my bed.

  “I’m fine,” I told her briefly, not wanting to share my train of thought.

  She looked at me for a moment, but decided not to question my answer. “The doctor said you’re starting your physical therapy tomorrow. Looking forward to it?” she asked as she began to clear off my bedside table.

  I frowned as I realized that I hadn’t thought about my therapy, not at all. I shrugged. “I suppose,” I muttered, trying to sound interested.

  Olivia smiled. “You’ll get back to your normal self in no time,” she told me reassuringly.

  I couldn’t help but wonder whether that was even physically possible. Even if my legs decided to work again, I wasn’t sure whether I was looking forward to, or dreading, getting out of the hospital. I’d been told that Claire had, in fact, moved out of our condo, but I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to go back there myself.

  That place was filled with memories of me and her together, and she was the one who had decorated most of it. I shook those thoughts off. Olivia seemed mildly put off by my lack of answer, so I smiled at her reassuringly. She passed me a bottle of juice and looked at the time.

  “Opal is clocking off at six. She said she’ll come around then. I’m not going to stay as long as I normally do, I have a few errands to run, just wanted to check whether you need anything picked up.”

  I nodded. “I’ll write you a list,” I told her slowly, as my mind drifted off again.

  There were so many unanswered questions, and I couldn’t help but wonder why she was around as if nothing had happened in the past.

  “There’s some money in the drawer,” I told her, but she waved me away with an irritated look on her face.

  “Don’t be silly, Ethan. I’ll pick things up for you and don’t worry about the money.” She leaned over and kissed my forehead in a maternal way before gathering her things and leaving.

  I glanced at the clock, wishing the time would hurry up. I wanted to see Opal. I felt like I needed to talk to her. I picked up a crossword but couldn’t focus on it. I must have drifted off to sleep, because the next thing I was aware of was Opal’s voice outside my door. She was talking to someone, but I couldn’t quite distinguish the words. The door opened as she was mid-sentence.

  “No… Tia, I only need the blood work done for tomorrow, that and probably blood pressure, but that’s not going to take long. Just tell his wife that we have no immediate concerns and that she can relax. Reassure her, I will see them tomorrow,” she explained and finished her conversation before facing me. She sat heavily in the chair and let out a long breath.

  “You look tired,” I commented.

  She looked up at me and laughed a bit. A smile brightened up her face and made me wonder whether her lips were still as soft and sweet as I remembered.

  “Long day,” she replied as she placed her coffee on my bedside table. She reached for my chart and flicked through it. “You’re doing better.” She smiled, then looked up at me again. She bit her lip before adding, “The physical therapist mentioned that you’re not engaging, though.” She looked at me with concern.

  I rolled my eyes at her. “I’m doing what I’m told, if that’s what you mean,” I informed her. I could feel the irritability inside me. Why did it always have to be about my health? There were so many other things that we should be talking about, but she always insisted on staying off any heavier subject and reverted to talking about my recovery and therapy or concerns with my blood pressure.

  She shook her head at me. “Your heart is slowing down your recovery. I know you have a lot on your plate, but all of that can be dealt with in its own time. For now, you need to focus on getting better and make more of an effort to make sure you do,” she told me.

  I could feel the anger swelling up. “You know what, Opal? I don’t think you have the right to say that. You
dropped me like a stone for over eight years and now it's as if nothing's happened. Where were you when my mom died? Where were you when things were going up and down like a damn yo-yo? Last time I checked, nowhere to be found. Every time I tried to get back in touch, you didn’t have the time of day for me. So, how about instead of telling me what I should or shouldn’t be doing, you explain why I should listen to you and why exactly you didn’t give a flying fuck for all this time, and suddenly you do now?” I fucking lost control as I thought that I couldn't pretend any longer. I did that with Claire. I ignored things for so long. I wasn't going to do that with Opal. I was fucking fed up of playing Mr. Nice Guy, look where it fucking got me. On the road to nowhere.

  “Ethan… I didn’t just drop you like a stone. You told me it was best if we cut contact. I believed that was what you wanted. I wasn’t good enough for you, why would I drag you down? When we were in college, I always felt like you were only talking to me at home to avoid awkwardness and just trying not to be plain rude. When you started seeing Claire, she seemed so much better for you than I was, I didn’t feel like you wanted me around or needed me. When your mom died, I felt like I was invading every time I asked how you were. So yeah, you’re right, I didn’t have faith in myself to get in touch with you, but it’s not like it would have been the easiest thing to do.” Her voice began to break.

  I could see tears welling in her eyes. I looked at her in surprise. Opal not fucking good enough? I wasn’t sure how to even begin to process that thought. I sat up higher on my bed.

  “O...” I began, but she cut me off.

  “Yeah, you’re right, I’ve let my lack of confidence get the better of me. I let myself down and I’ve let you down. And that is what happens with me. It does, and you deserve better,” she told me as the tears began to roll down her cheeks.