Last Time We Kissed_A Second Chance Romance

by Nicole Snow

  Jace glares, his green eyes soft, pale, drained. I whisper in his ear. “We have to fight. All of us. I'm not letting Trent waltz in and smash everything dad worked for. What you should've had a chance at making yours.”

  “The firm survives one way or another...just without me, sis. I'm boned. The shit legal coughed up this morning makes that very clear.” A rough chuckle leaves his dry lips and turns into a hiccup.

  I frown, walking the half-drained pint to the opposite side of the kitchen. When I look back, Jace is hunched over, chin on his palms, staring into his glass.

  Freaking out is his standard M.O. He's self-destructive.

  I'm used to it by now, the angry, flustered crap he gave me the second I walked in. But this dejected thing...it's new. Defeat doesn't really suit him.

  What did Trent do to him this week? What the hell happened to my brother?

  “Talk to me,” I say, retrieving a couple mineral water bottles from the fridge and sliding one across the counter. “He hasn't been in town more than a couple days. He can't be twisting your balls that bad.”

  “Sis, he's fucking ruined me.” Jace looks up, cheeks red, defiantly ignoring the water in front of him. “You got any idea where he's gone?”

  I open my mouth to answer, recalling the hate letter I sent to his room number scrawled on the slip that's still in my purse, and then our encounter, but I think better of mentioning it. However we fix this, it has to be legal. Clean. No guns or knives or fists.

  “No. I'm not sure what good finding him will do. You need a lawyer, Jace. A good one.”

  “You mean like the dozen or so I was all set to manage before Mr. Vigilante pissed away my chance? Yeah, sis, they helped a ton. Trent came here to take justice into his own hands, or whatever the fuck. Only one thing he'll understand.”

  “Jace,” I say quietly, not liking how his arms tremble a couple times on the counter. Just like frustrated rattlesnakes. “Don't do anything illegal. Whatever's happening, we've got mom and dad to –”

  “Oh, fuck you, Amy Kay! I wouldn't dream of dragging them into this, upsetting their peace and quiet. I'm a grown man, sis. You think I want daddy fighting my battles for me? Taking my hits? If I hadn't let him take over years ago, fuck, then Usher would've spent time in a cell like he deserved, instead of running back here to start fires years later.”

  There's a violent edge in his voice. A chill runs up my spine. “Protecting yourself isn't what worries me.” I wait to catch his furious eyes. “We were lucky Trent leaving town and ruining dad's campaign was the worst thing that happened last time. You get yourself into trouble again, next time, nobody might be able to bail you out.”

  His left eye twitches. I'm expecting him to fly up and get in my face again, but he just stays glued to his chair. Like he's too tired for more than stewing quietly in his drunken fury.

  I really hope he'll drink that water. I leave the kitchen with a sigh. His nasty eyes burn a hole in my back until I'm out of sight.

  “Peanut! Why didn't you say you were heading over?” Dad pulls me into his arms a second after I knock on his library door.

  “Getting a little too old for the nickname, dad. And formal dinners. Don't worry about it, I'm not even hungry.” I hug him hard, frowning a bit as my hands brush his shoulders.

  He looks a little rougher every year since retirement. New lines on his face, his hair grayer and more mottled, and is that a wispy goatee? Never thought I'd see the day my clean-shaven, buckled down father decided to beard it up.

  “I trust that has nothing to do with the sorry display upstairs?” Dad keeps his hands on me as I pull away, a sadness in his familiar green eyes.

  Oh, no. Wrangling with Jace still would've left me an appetite, but taking crap from him and Trent... “I had a big lunch, that's all.” I smile through the white lie. “How long has he been here?”

  “Since last night. Stormed in without a warning. I didn't have the heart to tell your mother. God, I knew things were strained, but divorce?”

  I rock backward, pressing my toes into the floor. “Wait...divorce?”

  Dad nods. “Almost all but certain, I'm afraid. She's a proud woman, his Lindsey. I've warned him too many times to get serious and fix it if he wants to keep his marriage. Seems he tossed my advice and did the opposite.”

  Dad won't list his sins. They aren't hard to guess.

  My jaw tightens when I picture Jace laughing, drinking, partying like a kid with girls easily impressed by his make-believe money. I'm no friend of Lindsey's anymore, but she doesn't deserve a cheater.

  “Of course, I told him he could stay as long as he wanted,” dad says. “Sometimes, I think if I hadn't turned him out that summer, before everything went wrong, maybe none of this would be happening.”

  “Dad, no. You had to protect your image.” I close my eyes, suddenly back in my eighteen year old self, remembering how phony and forced his political career seemed. But he'd had good intentions. “We can't keep second guessing the past. That's what's got Jace so riled up. That and –”

  “I know. Mr. Usher.” Dad holds up a hand. He rounds to the leather chair behind his huge ash colored wooden desk, gesturing me to take the empty chair across from it. “I always knew he'd turn up again, much as I'd hoped he wouldn't.”

  His voice isn't just sad. It's downright hurt, like he's talking about an estranged son.

  My stomach flips sourly. “You couldn't have known. We couldn't. We hoped he'd just go, stay away, let bygones be bygones. But he's back to make us suffer. I just don't get it. He's doing so well dad, he's got that energy company...why here? Why now?”

  “I've read all about it, Amy Kay.” His sharp look tells me there's no need to go on. Of course he knows. Probably before this latest blowup, when none of us could resist wondering what became of the boy we loved who betrayed us. “Truly amazing he'd sacrifice so much to hurt us all over again. If I'd taken losing that election like a man, got my head together, gone after him –“

  “Dad, no.” I watch his hands on the desk tighten into fists. “It's too late. Don't beat yourself up. We'll figure this out. Is there anything else to worry over besides the divorce?”

  “Oh, yeah. Jace and the firm, the embezzlement...goddamn. If I'd only known, I never would've trusted him. I never, ever would've turned over my company, the one your great grandfather started, to a child who wants a money tree with none of the responsibilities.” Dad shakes his head, his eyes pinched shut. “I'll have to talk to Meade come Monday. See if there's any way we can get Jace's trust fund loan disentangled from the corporate accounts.”

  “Wait, wait, embezzlement? Don't tell me...” I trail off. It's hard, resisting the urge to race upstairs and thrash my drunken, reckless brother. “Jesus. Was he even managing things for a solid month?”

  “Long enough,” dad growls. “That fool thought the accounts were his to raid the second he'd put his skin in the game. I never should've let him buy my stake, even ceremonially. The rest of the board thinks Usher did us a favor, shining the light on his untoward withdrawals so quickly.”

  He pauses, sighs, digesting the terrible news. “God. If we hadn't caught him for months, he might have cashed out millions before accounting caught up to it.”

  I hang my head, unsure whether rage or disappointment will get the best of me. “Make him give it back. Every damn penny,” I snap.

  Dad lifts another hand. “Of course, he says he will. Whatever he's able to prove was wrapped up with the company. I'm just hoping our lovely daughter-in-law will wait before her lawyers pounce. This could get very messy. Already is, honestly. As it stands, we'll never have a Chenocott in charge of the company again.”

  Guilt spasms through my heart. If life tread a different path, it could've been me in Jace's place.

  But I would've gone to law school. Would've taken it seriously. Would've let myself be groomed for the career I know dad secretly hoped I'd always want.

  Regrets do nothing. I might as well wish Trent hadn't
made us ground zero for his dirty, destructive secrets.

  “How much does mom know?” There's no point ignoring the other elephant in the room.

  Dad blinks, leans in his chair, stroking his short beard. “Very little. That's how I'd like to keep it, just between you and me, peanut. She doesn't need the grief. I'm more worried about the divorce than the business with the firm, honestly. It'll be a terrible shock. When she finds out her only chance at grandkids is gone –”

  He stops. We lock eyes.

  Shame heats my blood.

  So does a steady anger.

  It's no secret he gave up on me having a normal family life since leaving Washington. Still, it stings to have it brought out openly.

  “Forgive me,” he says, averting his eyes to the huge bookcases on the wall. “Your mother's as lovely as ever these days, but her state of mind can be...difficult. Always focused on the future. Oh, how can I blame her? Our best years are behind us. We desperately hoped for something more. Jace's woes are just one more blow.”

  “Jeez, it's not a funeral, dad. I get it. There's a lot to worry about, but Trent isn't controlling our lives. Whatever he does to Jace, it only ruins us if we let it.”

  “I hope you're right,” he says in a hushed way. “Now, enough ugliness. That's not the homecoming my daughter deserves.”

  Dad pulls his flannel shirt tight, as if putting himself back together. “Make yourself at home. Haven't touched your old room upstairs except for the routine cleanings. Dinner is...anything you'd like.”

  “Dad, forget it. I'll feed myself. It's getting late, anyway. We'll talk through this more tomorrow, okay?”

  Smiling, he nods once. “I'm glad you're home, Amy Kay, however briefly. Lord knows we need you.”

  I hate feeling like the golden child again as I step out of his huge makeshift office and close the door. It's a burden I never wanted. Jace never gave us another choice. His screw ups are the reason running off to Spokane and doing my own thing hurt my parents even more.

  They'd tried to get over it, too. Tried to make a life here with their son, who led them to believe he was finally getting his crap together. He was the one who got married, after all.

  Pretended he'd twisted himself in knots trying to be better. Cleaned up his act. Convinced dad he was worthy of a seat at the firm and it's big financial rewards.

  Now, we know everything was a lie.

  We know no thanks to Trent freaking Usher.

  My lips purse together in a tight, painful line every time I think about what only happened hours ago in the hotel downtown. I still don't understand how my backstabbing ex put our entire family on the run.

  But I do know one thing: next time he shows up – and he will – I'm not turning tail.

  If Trent Usher comes after me again, if he's so hellbent on smashing Jace he hurts us, there'll be no backing down. I'll fight.

  Whatever it takes to put him in prison. Exactly what he deserved the first time.

  I flop over in my PJs, staring at the clock. It's after midnight and I'm wide awake, using my inner cheek as a surrogate to chew on my own anxiety.

  I don't know how I ever slept in this room. There are too many memories in this old double bed, these spartan walls, even in an old teddy bear I left years ago. It peeks out at me through the crack in the closet door, as if to say, I saw everything. You and him. Happy.

  The best of times were here. So were the worst.

  Everything, under this vaulted ceiling, and the old Victorian lamp that makes everything glow like an oil painting.

  Memories are incredible things. They make ghosts real. They make us cry. Sometimes they drive us completely insane.

  Then I hear the noise, and I know there's something very wrong in my head. I'm losing it, aren't I?

  It sounds like a short, staccato tapping on my big bay window. Almost identical to the night six years ago when I gave him my virginity.

  I wonder if I'm dreaming when I throw my legs to the floor, grab my robe, and step up to the window holding my breath. You've got to be kidding.

  Oh, but if this is a joke, my own sadistic eyes playing tricks on me, then it looks exactly like the man who chased me out of the hotel today.

  Trent. Here. In the flesh.

  He stands just a few feet away, a long branch in one hand, methodically scratching at the glass. At least he isn't smirking – he looks about as excited as a man waiting for the bus.

  Like this is routine, and totally not a monstrous invasion of my privacy.

  Swallowing my shock, I unlock the window and throw it open. “What the holy hell are you doing here?”

  “Waiting. Not leaving till you listen, darling. Same thing I told you this evening.” There's the smirk I want to wipe off his face forever. “Let me up for old time's sake? Bet I can climb this tree faster than I did then.”

  “I'm not your darling and you're not coming up here. You're going home, or I'm calling the cops.”

  “Then we'll have a lot of explaining for the boys in blue. Like why you've got your asshole brother here. He's lucky there isn't a warrant out yet for his arrest with all the white collar crimes he's had a hand in. Sure is a shame some things never change.” He shrugs his broad, damningly sexy shoulders. “Oh, wait. Except, this time, I'm not the dumb kid being framed. And I've got plenty more ways to make him suffer.”

  A scowl replaces his sharp smirk. Those blue eyes are almost scary. So full of moonlight. So much like the wolf I remember stamped on his chest, feral and dangerous.

  For a second, I think what it'll do to mom, having the cops show up here. I stare into his baby blues, beaming hatred, wishing I could magically open a pit to hell in the ground under him.

  Trent's taunting eyes go huge a split second after I slam the window shut.

  I can't do this. No negotiations.

  There's no use in talking to him, I decide. Or in making demands I know he'd love to throw back in my face.

  There's nothing to do but throw myself on the bed, bury my head in a pillow, and try very hard not to scream bloody murder.

  10

  Out With It (Trent)

  I'm impressed.

  The old Amy Kay would've caved. Would've jumped at a chance to reason our way out of this.

  This new woman I'm dealing with is feisty. A fighter. Sick and tired of being flattened by life to the point where she's immune to its utter bullshit.

  And right now, that bullshit is me.

  She's in a familiar place. Familiar because none of us know where this is going. This uncharted territory is full of sharks.

  I see it instantly. She's in there, re-living the same hole I've squatted in for years, building Cryptic into an empire, planning for this day.

  It's finally come. I'm using the time and money and will to make my darkest dreams a hellish reality for one deserving fuck: Jace Chenocott.

  I planned so carefully. Spent so many long nights probing underworld classifieds for guys willing to dig, get their hands dirty, and not ask questions. I made my hires, I put plans into motion, and I bided my time.

  But fuck, I never planned for this.

  Never factored in an elevator mishap from hell.

  Never imagined running into her, face-to-face, igniting a fury in my blood I hoped I'd never feel again.

  It's in her, too. The same rush. Same frightening, magnetic, self-destructive pull roping our hearts together. And I'm afraid those ropes are a whole lot stronger than any hate, any fear, or any common sense.

  Shit.

  The fact that I'm standing here, risking everything just to see her, says how much I've changed since the last time I was here to fuck the love of my life.

  That love hates me now. The cold warrior I thought I'd become, replacing the stupid kid, is telling me to walk the hell away while the going is good.

  Finish it. Finish Jace. Finish everything and fucking leave before there's collateral damage strewn all over our lives.

  I'd be a fool not to listen. But a dee
per, darker part of me says I'd be an even bigger fool to let this go.

  I step up, closer to the house. Lifting my branch again, I tap-tap-tap at regular intervals. Just like a damn woodpecker, drumming in the night.

  I need to talk to her.

  Just destroying Jace isn't enough.

  Not while I know Amy Kay, Maxwell, and Ophelia are standing by, thinking I've lost my mind. Thinking the worst of me – pretty much the norm for years.

  Why the fuck do I suddenly care? Why the need to clear my name when I told myself it'd be enough just to watch Jace fall face-down in flames?

  Why isn't hit and run good enough anymore?

  One answer: Precious.

  The only way I'll ever figure this out, and un-fuck myself, is hidden behind the same thick glass she once threw open for me, surrendering her sweetness. I keep tapping that branch on the glass for what seems like forever.

  Don't even stop for rest. If I annoy her enough, she'll have to let me in.

  Or she'll finally bring down the hell I probably deserve.

  It's already loose in my blood: the rage I feel every time I pinch my jaw, the hard-on I keep wishing wasn't there, the maelstrom in my head that's blown my cold, calculating master plan to Jupiter and back.

  I focus my thoughts, the same thing over and over.

  Come the hell on, Amy Kay. Open up.

  Open up!

  Let's talk this stupid shit out.

  Open the fuck up. Let's get this out of our systems.

  Out of mine.

  Open –

  I can't feel my arms through the numbing burn. Maybe another reason I'm shocked for the second time tonight when her window pops open. I throw the branch down and wait for the screaming threats.

  She never sticks her head out. The window hangs open, the world inside silent and waiting.

  I scamper up the tree like a monkey, carefully stepping into her room. Can't stop my jaw from hanging open.

  Fuck.

  Her room hasn't changed a bit. Same décor. Same little desk in the corner. Same bed where we quietly tangled bodies, working young flesh to ecstasy.