Season of Second Chances

by Brighton Walsh

  His words rumbled in her ear, some nonsensical and some so sensible they made her yearn. For him, for what they had, for what they’d thrown away.

  Despite the cold wash of regret that had settled over her, she was still climbing, her body not able to deny what his did for her. And then, when his hand found her swollen with need and his gritty, rough voice spoke almost desperately, telling her, “Come on, baby, come,” she did. She fell into the abyss with him, clutching his arms as she pulsed around him, knowing by the set of his shoulders, the look on his face, that he was finding his release too.

  “Claire... God, Claire...” He whispered her name reverently and smoothed the hair away from her face, kissing her lips and her eyes and her cheeks. And she wanted to drown in him, wanted to get lost in the feeling of his hands on her, and his cock still inside her, and his beautiful whispered words, because they felt so good. So perfect, so right.

  But it was all an illusion. He couldn’t give himself to her, had never been able to give himself to her completely, and he sure as hell wasn’t doing it now.

  Chapter Six

  Claire didn’t even recall how she’d gotten here. The last thing she remembered was being on the floor in Logan’s living room, his body a comfortable weight on top of her, both of them coming down from their climaxes. And now she was enveloped in a warm bed and pressed tightly to an even warmer body. And, God, he felt good. She’d forgotten how much she used to love nestling into his side and stealing his warmth on the cold Chicago nights.

  But even while being next to him like this felt good...she ached. Her head from the abundance of wine, of course, but it was far more than that.

  Even though two years had passed, she knew sleeping with someone she had that kind of history with was going to have repercussions. She could only hope her heart breaking for the second time wouldn’t be one of them. The first time had nearly demolished her.

  The smart thing would be to separate the two—her body and her heart. But she didn’t know how to give anything less than everything when it came to him. That had always been her downfall.

  Carefully, she extracted herself from his clutching arms and grabbed the first shirt she found, pulling it over her head as she slipped out of the room. She made herself at home enough to find some aspirin in his medicine cabinet and brew a pot of coffee.

  With anxious dread, she suddenly realized she’d never called her sister the night before when she’d gotten settled. Sadie was probably worried sick and had, no doubt, left a dozen messages by now. She went to her purse and pulled out her phone. Sure enough, there were four missed calls and two voicemails, all from her sister. All in all, though, not as abundant as she’d been anticipating.

  After pouring a mug of coffee, she went over to the large chair by the window, grabbing a throw blanket on the way, and settled in for what she knew would be a very awkward conversation. It was still early, just after eight, and even though Denver was an hour earlier, Sadie would’ve been up for hours already with the boys. Childhood excitement didn’t wait for sleep.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes as she dialed her sister’s number and waited.

  “Claire?” The chaos of Christmas played in the background, her nephews’ excited shouts and squeals meeting her ears followed by the lower, more subdued voice of her brother-in-law, no doubt trying to keep some semblance of order in their morning of pandemonium. Hearing that only made her long for them all the more.

  “Hey. Merry Christmas.”

  “Hi.” The relief in Sadie’s voice was palpable over the phone, and Claire felt like a shitty sister for worrying her unnecessarily. “Merry Christmas back at you.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call. Things got...strange, and it sort of slipped my mind.”

  “Strange? Strange how? You didn’t get mugged, did you?”

  She laughed. “No, Sadie. Christ.”

  “Did you get together with some old friends, then?”

  “You could say that.”

  Sadie waited before saying anything, probably hoping Claire would expand on that. Finally, she said, “Seriously, what’s up? Why are you being so, I don’t know, cryptic?”

  Claire took a deep breath, holding it for a beat before she blew it out, at the same time saying, “I stayed at Logan’s last night.”

  The silence that greeted her admission wasn’t pleasant. She would’ve rather had screaming or yelling or berating, anything other than the utter stillness that was coming from her sister’s end.

  As she opened her mouth to say something to fill the uncomfortable silence, Sadie’s voice came through the phone line. “Wow. Wow. I was not expecting that.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “So, what, you called him?”

  “No, he was at the airport, actually. His flight got canceled too.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Yeah. And all the hotels around the airport were booked and he just... I don’t know. I said yes. I don’t know why I said yes, but I did. And then we came back to his condo and he took me to Romano’s and it was awkward and uncomfortable, so of course I drank too much wine and, oh God, Sadie, I slept with him.” By the time she’d finished her word vomit, her eyes were clenched tightly, her head resting on the knees she had tucked to her chest. The noise in the background on the other end of the line faded until she heard the snick of a door shutting.

  “Well, fuck.”

  That pulled a breathless laugh from her, and she was thankful her sister could at least make her smile when it felt like everything was a swirling mess of chaos around her. “Pretty much.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She thought about how it had been last night. After the wine had loosened them up and Logan steered them to a different topic, their conversation had flowed as smoothly as it always had. She’d been comfortable around him for the first time since she’d seen him at the airport, but she didn’t know how much of that was due to the wine and how much was due to their natural comfort level. And then the sex. Holy hell, that part of her imagination certainly hadn’t exaggerated over time. She would’ve thought she’d built up the memories of them being together so much that, inevitably, she’d be disappointed in the face of the flesh and blood man, instead hoping for the memory of how she’d thought it had been.

  He’d certainly shot that theory straight to hell.

  But the question still remained—what was she going to do today? What was their newfound intimacy going to do for their interactions? And how would that translate to their physical intimacy while she stayed with him? A look out the window showed snow still falling steadily outside. She didn’t know for certain, but if she had to guess, she figured the flights were either still canceled or few and far between.

  Everything was a mess of uncertainty. With all the questions swirling around in her head, making her stomach churn, she answered her sister honestly, “I don’t know.”

  * * *

  Logan woke with a dull throb in his head and cold sheets beside him, and anxiety tugged at his gut. While he hadn’t planned on taking things that far with Claire the night before, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. She’d been there with him, completely in the moment, and he’d taken everything she’d given him. They’d been raw and hungry, unstoppable. And, now, he realized they hadn’t even paused long enough to consider protection.

  “Fuck.” He threw an arm over his eyes, blocking out the little light that crept in through his curtains. While Sophie was the best thing that had ever happened to him, her being an unplanned pregnancy had made him diligent with the few partners he’d chosen to have after she’d been born—including Claire, at the beginning at least. She’d been on the pill then—had liked it for reasons beyond just pregnancy protection—and he hoped to God she still was. And, if he was being honest, he hoped she hadn’t had a
reason to be on it other than personal preference.

  Christ, what kind of shithead did that make him? She wasn’t his anymore, and it would do him some good to remember that.

  Regardless, they’d have to talk about that today. They’d have to talk about a lot of things today.

  He slid out of bed, pulling on a pair of lounge pants before walking into the bathroom. After taking care of his business and swishing with some mouthwash, he headed down the short hallway, preparing himself for what he’d find.

  But he couldn’t have been prepared for what greeted him. He halted in his tracks, pausing outside the living room. Claire sat curled up in his oversized chair, her knees tucked into one of his shirts, hands cupping a mug of coffee. She was staring out the large picture window, completely oblivious to everything around her. Her hair was messy and hung loosely around her shoulders, down to the middle of her back. She looked perfect sitting there...fucking gorgeous.

  More than that, though, it was like an instance of déjà vu, her nestled in the chair like she’d done more times than he could count. It had been her favorite spot in his—their—place, and she’d spent hours curled up just like she was now.

  He wanted to go to her, to put his lips on hers, to grip her curves under the cover of his clothing, to feel her smile against his mouth, like he’d done a million times before. But even though he’d been inside her last night, he knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything with how they were going to proceed while she was here. His instincts all screamed at him to go to her, pull her into his lap, and proceed with a repeat performance of the night before. But he’d always done so much commanding in their relationship, he knew he needed to just...back off a little. At least until he knew where her head was.

  So, instead, he cleared his throat, and she turned sharply to look where he was standing, her expression unreadable. This was awkward and uneasy—just like last night had been before the alcohol had loosened them both up. He hated it.

  “Morning. Merry Christmas.” He shifted on his feet, running a hand through his hair.

  Her eyes tracked the movement, her lips parting, and he remembered how much she’d loved to run her fingers through his hair. Once her attention had dropped from his hand, finally settling her eyes on his and offering him a small smile, it was all the invitation he needed. He motioned for her to scoot over when he got to her, sitting next to her in the chair that, though it was over-sized, was still really only made for one. With an arm across the cushion behind her, he turned and studied her face. She had this...glow about her that he’d always loved seeing. A sparkle in her eyes, a flush in her cheeks. It said she’d gotten fucked and fucked well, and he loved that look. He especially loved that he’d been the one to put it there.

  “Merry Christmas to you.” Her voice was low, and she studied the mug settled in her hand. “I made coffee if you want some.”

  “I’ll get some in a bit, thanks.” With the hand draped over the back of the chair, he reached out for her hair, rubbing the silky strands between his fingers. She’d let it grow out even more in the last couple of years, though he couldn’t complain about that. He’d always loved her hair.

  Still avoiding his eyes, she stared studiously out the window at the snowfall. It would make for an incredibly awkward day if they didn’t talk about this now, and judging from the heaps of white outside, planes were going to be grounded yet again today.

  “So...” he said, tugging on her hair lightly to get her attention.

  She breathed out a laugh and turned to look at him. “So.”

  It wasn’t even a conscious action when he brought his thumb to her lower lip, feeling the smile on her mouth. He took it as a good sign that she didn’t pull away. Or kick him in the balls. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I know things got out of control last night...”

  “Yeah.”

  “Should we...do we need to talk about protection?”

  “Oh, yeah.” She cleared her throat, shifting slightly. “Well, I’m still on the pill. And, um, I’ve been safe. You?”

  He managed a nod, not wanting to think about the times she’d been safe or he’d tear out of the condo and hunt down each and every man who’d had the pleasure of being with her. Rational? No, but no one could ever accuse him of being rational when it came to her.

  “Even though things went farther than I think either of us planned, I want you to know I wouldn’t change anything. I don’t regret it, Claire.” He knew he should ask if she did, but he couldn’t bring himself to, fearing what her answer might be.

  “I know,” she said, looking down before back up into his eyes again. “I just...I don’t know what to think about all this. I’m not a casual sex kind of girl—you know that. And add in our history? It just...it seems like a recipe for a mega fucking disaster.”

  It wasn’t exactly what he’d been hoping to hear. Though, honestly, he didn’t think Fuck me again, Logan was realistic of him to expect.

  “No, I get it. We can back off.” He chuckled lowly. “God knows I definitely don’t want to, but I will. For you.”

  She stared at him, her eyes darting between his, seemingly trying to read his intentions. “Thank you.” Nodding, she looked down at her lap. “I think that’d be for the best.”

  He relaxed into the chair, fingers still playing absently with the strands of her hair. He disagreed, wholeheartedly, but he’d go along with it.

  For now.

  Chapter Seven

  Even though Logan had promised to step back, Claire knew it wasn’t going to be that easy, that him simply declaring it would make it so and their sexual attraction would magically dissipate. And that fact was perfectly obvious as she watched him in the kitchen, his hair still wet from his shower. His sweater stretched perfectly across his back and shoulders, and she cursed herself for not insisting they turn on a light last night.

  But, no. No. That’d be even worse, because then she’d have visual aids to assist her fantasies, instead of simply relying on the foggy memories of what his body had once looked like.

  His phone rang, startling her out of her train of thought. He grabbed his cell, looking at the caller ID before a grin slowly curved his lips. “Hey, baby girl. Merry Christmas.”

  Claire smiled. Sophie was talking so loudly and excitedly on the other line, Claire could hear her from her perch on the stool at the breakfast bar. She listened to half the conversation, hearing only jumbled, high-pitched chatter from the other end as Logan asked Sophie about her night and this morning, told her about his flight being canceled and being stuck in the city, that he was home and he couldn’t wait to see her. That, yes, Santa had visited her here too. That he missed her.

  He had such a genuine smile on his face as he talked to his daughter, Claire couldn’t help but return it. He was a wonderful father. Intent and utterly focused on Sophie. He’d always been good at that—at giving one-hundred percent of his attention when he was there, in the moment. And not just with his daughter, but with Claire too. It had been the time he wasn’t with them that his attention waned, focusing instead on the latest troubled job site or some contractor he had to deal with. The time he spent with the people he loved, he was in, completely. It was the obligations he couldn’t seem to say no to, the issues he felt rested solely on his shoulders as owner of his business which started to encroach on home life that had been the problem.

  “What am I going to do today? Well, I’m not sure. Claire—you remember Claire?—well, she got stuck at the airport, too, so she’s here with me.”

  She couldn’t help but listen a little closer, trying to detect any change in the cadence of Sophie’s voice on the other line, but she still sounded excited even after hearing Claire was with her father. She didn’t know how children handled the comings and goings of people in their lives, had little to no experience with kids before Sophie. In fact, when she’d fi
rst met Logan, she almost hadn’t accepted his invitation for a date because she hadn’t wanted the complication of children. She’d seen firsthand what could happen to innocent kids when life didn’t go as planned, and she hadn’t wanted that for herself or a would-be family—hadn’t wanted the responsibility of being the sole person a child depended on.

  But then Logan had brought Sophie to the job site one day on their way to a daddy-daughter lunch, and Claire had been smitten immediately. With Sophie’s bright eyes and infectious laugh, Claire didn’t stand a chance—was a goner from the start.

  The lowered timber of Logan’s voice made her look up, focusing as his eyes locked with hers. “I’m not sure. We’ll have to see.” He paused, listening to the other side of the conversation. “I know, I hope so too. Okay, let me talk to your mom. Love you.”

  Before he could start talking to his ex-girlfriend, Claire moved to stand in front of the sliding glass door in the living room to give him some privacy. She’d always liked Brooke and had been incredibly thankful for that. Her brother-in-law had been married before, and her sister had to deal with his bitch of an ex-wife, so Claire had been prepared for the worst when she and Logan had started dating. She was pleasantly surprised by Brooke and Logan’s relationship. If ever there was a poster couple for an amicable split and raising a child together, they would be it.

  Looking out the window, she was still shocked at how much snow had accumulated and how much was still coming down. Weather reports said it was just less than two feet, and the city was crawling along at a snail’s pace because of it. There was no way she was getting out today, maybe not even tomorrow. Yesterday, this would’ve been problematic for a different reason entirely—having only wanted to spend the holiday with her family. Now, though...now she had to worry about a whole new set of problems that had nothing at all to do with family and everything to do with the sinfully handsome man that had come to stand next to her. His voice rumbled through her as he said his goodbyes, then slid his phone in his pocket.