Season of Second Chances

by Brighton Walsh

  “Claire?” he called out, tossing his keys on the table and pulling off his jacket. It was eerily quiet in the apartment, and a heavy tinge of uncertainty settled over him. Getting no response, he slipped down the hall, peeking in the bathroom before heading into his bedroom. It seemed to be just as he’d left it.

  Except it wasn’t.

  The carry-on that had been propped on the chair in the corner, clothes tumbling out of it and hanging over the arms and back of the chair, was missing, and in its place was a folded piece of paper.

  He walked over to it, his heart sinking before he even picked it up. Claire’s normally neat handwriting was scribbled in a harsh slant, like she’d been in a hurry when she’d written it. With each word he rad, the twisting in his chest increased until his heart squeezed painfully.

  If for no one’s sake but your daughter’s, I hope you’re able to realize that work isn’t the most important thing. She’s not going to be young forever, and you’re going to regret missing this time with her.

  Claire was gone. He slumped into the chair, his head in his hands as her words sank in. They hit home. He knew he worked too much, but it had been engrained in him from the time he was young. He’d watched his mother struggle to put food on the table and a roof over their heads and promised himself he’d never go through that, and he’d certainly never allow his child to go through it. And while he had kept his promise to himself, how many others had he broken to the ones he loved to do so?

  He pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing Claire’s number as he paced in his bedroom, his hand tugging at his hair. When it went straight to voicemail, he tried one more time, though it was in vain. “Fuck!”

  With his mind spinning, he tried to think about who else he could contact and knew he’d had her sister’s number in his phone at one time. He just hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to have deleted it. He searched through his contacts, his shoulders sagging in relief when he found it. He took a deep breath, fully prepared for an onslaught of aggression, and waited as the line rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Sadie. Hi, this is Logan. Logan Dawes.”

  His response was met with a deep sigh, one filled with anger and frustration. One he was quite familiar with, because it sounded very much like her sister’s.

  “I know your last name, Logan. Jesus. What do you want?”

  “I...” And he suddenly didn’t know what to say. Had Claire called her? Maybe Sadie didn’t even know Claire had been staying there with him. He didn’t want to cause even more difficulty for her than he already was.

  “Look, I know you’ve been an asshole, that you’ve done something to fuck it all up. Again. So, spit it out already.”

  He sighed heavily, dropping to sit on the side of his bed. “You’re right. I fucked up. And she left.” When Sadie didn’t say anything, he asked, “Did she...do you know if she...is she still in Chicago?”

  “No.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  “Yes.”

  He huffed out an irritated breath at her short answers. “And?”

  “And what? You want me to tell you all the dirty, gritty details? How she’s sick with herself that she fell for it—for you—all over again? How you just brushed her to the wayside once again and how she feels stupid because she thought you’d changed?”

  “I have changed, Sadie. I have. Please. I can’t lose her again. What can I do?”

  “You can cancel whatever little work thing you have and go to that damn party with her.”

  He growled in frustration, tugging at his hair. “I can’t do that. It’s not a ‘little work thing.’ This is a multi-million dollar deal that’s been three years in the making.”

  “You know what, asshole? I listened to her cry for days—weeks—after you broke up. She was constantly second guessing herself, wondering if she did the right thing. Not only did she have to watch our grandmother die, but she did so completely alone because the one person who promised her forever had more pressing things to take care of than being there for her.

  “I don’t give a shit how much money you’ve potentially lost, Logan. This isn’t about money. It’s about a woman who’s too good for you—who’s in love with you—and you’re thinking about throwing it all away again over a fucking job?” She blew out a long breath, and he could hear the barely restrained anger in her voice as she continued. “Look, I didn’t tell you all of this because I think you’re worthy of her. Honestly, I think you’re a jackass that needs to get his priorities straight. But my little sister fell for you four years ago, and again now—in just three days—so she must see something in you. Don’t turn your back on what I’m offering. Don’t fuck this up again.”

  She was right. About everything. He’d ruined the best thing in his life over a job so inconsequential he didn’t even remember it now. He knew if he didn’t fix this with Claire, he’d never get another chance with her. She’d go her separate way, and this time, she wouldn’t magically fall in his lap for a third chance.

  Two was all he’d get.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She always hated these parties. Too many rich and stuffy people, arrogant and entitled, milling about, discussing their newest cars and latest trips and whatever else she didn’t care about. Honestly, she’d rather be curled on her couch, wearing an over-sized sweatshirt and yoga pants, watching a movie and sipping hot chocolate. Instead she was wearing a long, backless red dress with a slit up to her thigh, people-watching and sipping ridiculously expensive champagne.

  She felt a little silly, sporting this dress—especially going stag. But it was her wow dress. The one her sister had convinced her to purchase a few years ago, and one she hadn’t had a chance to wear much, but that always made her feel sexy and irresistible.

  And if ever there was a night to feel sexy and irresistible, it was tonight when she was dateless and still nursing a broken heart. She had absolutely no intention of acting on any of the propositions she’d received thus far, but still...the attention was a warm salve to her bruised ego.

  As she glanced around the space, she had to admit they’d done a beautiful job of decorating, like always. White lights wrapped around tall bundled tree branches, dozens upon dozens bordering the dance floor and leading to the wall of French doors that led out to the garden. That was one thing she would miss about San Diego. Even on New Year’s Eve, she could go outside in her slip of a dress and feel nothing more than a slight chill.

  When she’d gotten back from Chicago, she dove immediately into work, submersing herself in any and everything she could to keep her mind off what she’d left behind. And even though things hadn’t worked with her and Logan, the conclusion she’d come to while she was there still held true—San Diego was no longer her home. It was time for her to move on, start a new Chapter in her life. She’d talked with human resources about available openings within the company. She was currently debating the merits of Seattle, New York or Miami. And then, of course, there was always Chicago.

  Just the thought of what she’d left behind brought a sharp pang to her chest.

  As quickly as it came, she shoved it down, where she was currently keeping a tight lock on the rest of her overwhelming emotions. She didn’t need to think about Logan or their ruined relationship tonight. She was going to get tipsy and flirt with some handsome men, and she would smile while doing it. And then when she could escape, she’d go home to her empty, too-large house, climb the stairs and fall into her equally empty, too-large bed where she’d, inevitably, cry herself to sleep. God, she was a cliché.

  But tomorrow...tomorrow was a new day and a new year, and it was time for a new Claire. She couldn’t get on with her life if she kept the tiny flicker of hope alive that something would turn out with Logan. She realized now she’
d been doing that for the last two years, and that was, no doubt, why none of the casual dates she’d had had ever developed into something more. Whether consciously or not, she just hadn’t allowed it. She’d closed off her heart and stamped a giant LOGAN across the front, and locked it up tight for the hope of what might come to be.

  Not anymore. It was time to move on.

  She took another sip of her champagne, smiling and nodding when the other people in her small group did. She had no idea what they were droning on about, but she played the part she needed to. After she’d put in enough time, she’d be able to slip out unnoticed.

  As the few ladies in the group laughed, someone cleared their throat directly behind her, and then a deep rumbling voice was in her ear, a gentle, warming touch on her bare arm. “Excuse me.”

  “Oh, sure. Sorry.” She slid to the side to allow the person to pass, only he didn’t and his fingers didn’t leave the sensitive skin at the back of her arm. She shifted, turning her body toward the still-present warmth behind her. And then she looked over her shoulder and her breath caught in her throat.

  The very man she was drinking tonight to forget stood before her, staring directly into her eyes.

  She had to be dreaming. That was the only possible explanation for seeing Logan standing in front of her, looking for all the world like he’d walked straight off the pages of frickin’ GQ Magazine. This was a black tie event, and every single pompous ass here was in some variation of the newest designer tuxedo—their own, of course, never rented. But it didn’t even matter that he’d bucked that rule. The crisp black suit he wore fit him perfectly, conforming to his broad shoulders and thick arms before tapering to his trim waist and hips. Paired with the dark grey vest fitted tightly to a chest and stomach she knew were ribbed with muscles, and the striped shirt underneath topped with a black tie... God, she needed some air, because she couldn’t breathe.

  Casting a glance around the huge ballroom, she saw everyone else talking and laughing, completely oblivious to the fact that her world had just been tipped on its axis. When she looked back at him, she found her mouth didn’t work. But her mind...her mind was spinning a million miles a minute. What the hell was he doing here?

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she hissed. Okay, so apparently her mouth did work.

  Though her words were hushed, her tone caught the attention of a few of the people she’d been mingling with. Logan offered one of his killer smiles as he excused them and, with a hand at the small of her back, guided her away from prying ears. For that, at least, she was grateful.

  He didn’t stop until he’d led her out to the terrace. It was nearly deserted, with only a few stragglers mingling about. The night was pitch black, the moon only a tiny sliver in the sky, but the abundance of white lights strung on every available surface more than made up for it.

  When they were safely away from prying ears and eyes, she turned to him, her anger and hurt forefront in her mind.

  Before she could say a word, before she could shout every obscenity in the book at his stupid, gorgeous face, his voice, as smooth and rich as dark chocolate, washed over her. “You look...” He shook his head slowly, dropping his gaze to sweep up the curves barely covered by her dress, not missing an inch in his perusal. His voice had dropped to something low and gritty when he finally uttered the last word. “Stunning.”

  While she was never one to turn her nose up at a compliment, she didn’t quite care what he thought of her wow dress. Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrowed her eyes. Stiffly, she said, “I don’t really give a fuck how you think I look, Logan. What are you doing here?”

  His smile dropped and he ran his hands through his hair, blowing out a deep breath. When he reached for her, prying her arms away from the protection of her body, she only protested weakly before finally giving in. She let him cradle her hands in his much larger ones, his thumbs running over her knuckles too quickly to be soothing. He was nervous. Good, he deserved to be nervous.

  When he looked at her, the anguish in his eyes nearly knocked her on her ass. His voice, when he spoke, was so earnest, so utterly devastated, she didn’t once question his sincerity. “I fucked up, Claire. I know I did. And I’m sorry I put you through that, but at the time, I couldn’t see a solution.”

  She didn’t know if he was talking about the initial demise of their relationship, or what had just happened between them—it could’ve been for either. Regardless, in terms of apologies, it was a shitty one, and she wasn’t able to keep the heat from her voice when she replied. “Yeah? And what made this magical solution suddenly appear?”

  His lips quirked at the side, and her stomach did an appropriate and expected flip in response. Stupid, traitorous stomach. “Your sister.”

  “My sis—son of a bitch.”

  He chuckled, squeezing her hands. “Yeah, well, I think I love her a little for helping me do this.”

  “Do what, exactly?”

  Letting go of her hands, he ran his fingers up her arms, across her shoulders and up her neck until he cupped her face delicately between his large hands. “I owe you a hundred apologies, Claire. For every time I missed dinner or a movie or had to reschedule a date. For missing your grandmother’s birthday party. For nearly missing this. And I can’t give reasons for those dozens of times before, but for this I can. I know it doesn’t matter—and I don’t want to give you excuses—but I want you to know why.”

  Swallowing his pride and offering apologies was not something Logan did easily—or ever. Yet, somehow, in the course of a week, he’d offered her not one, but two. As such, she’d been shocked mute, so she could merely nod.

  He moved to run his hands up and down her bare arms, whether to warm her or as a way to sooth his nerves, she didn’t know. “I’ve been working on landing this company for a few years. You might remember me talking about them—RS Enterprises. The CEO is an arrogant bastard, but it would’ve been huge for my company. It would’ve meant hundreds of thousands of dollars of revenue, maybe—probably—millions.

  “After beating down his door for so many years, and after hours of fancy talking and a whole fuckton of schmoozing, the CEO finally agreed to an appointment. But, like I said, he’s a jackass who worked his family out of his life a long time ago and offered me two days—Christmas Eve or New Year’s Eve. I swear, it was like he was testing me. And after talking to him, I’m even surer of it now. He wanted to be certain whoever he hired for these jobs wouldn’t be distracted with meddlesome things...like families.”

  She cringed—she couldn’t help it. She knew working for a living was inevitable. Unless you came from piles of money, it was just something you had to do. But that didn’t mean she understood the people who lived, ate and breathed their careers. And what Logan was saying hit a little too close to home.

  “The things he said, Claire...” He shook his head, closing his eyes briefly. “They were extreme, yes, and he was driven with a single-minded focus, but...it was me. I could see me in him, the guy I was so close to becoming. And the guy who was just like him had already lost so much. I couldn’t let him lose you too. Not again.”

  Swallowing, she asked, “So what did you do?”

  “I canceled the appointment.” He said it with such finality and nonchalance, he might as well have been talking about a dentist appointment.

  Her mouth dropped open, her eyes growing wide. “But that’s millions, Logan! It’s everything you’ve worked for—everything you’ve wanted.”

  “It’s not everything I want. You are. I don’t want the fucking job if it means I can’t have you. I’d turn down thousands if I had to.”

  She couldn’t deny the spark of hope he’d ignited inside her heart. But Logan had always talked a good talk. It was walking the walk he had trouble with.

  “This isn’t all it’s going to take, Logan. You can’t just...you can’t j
ust waltz into my company holiday party spewing your regrets and hope everything will be forgiven. It doesn’t work like that.”

  He moved his hands back to her face, pulling her closer to him. He rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks as his eyes darted between hers. “I know. I know. I have so much more work to do. And I’m willing to do it, every day if you’ll let me.

  “Two years ago, I told you I wanted to see that happiness on your face every day for the rest of my life. But I don’t just want to see the happiness. I want to be the one to put it there. And I promise I’ll try, baby. I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen. I’ll do whatever it takes. Semi-monthly trips down here, nightly Skype dates and texts and whatever the fuck. I don’t care. I just want you. However I can have you. I love you, Claire. I need you.”

  Without waiting for her to answer, he dipped his head and took her mouth in a heated kiss, his tongue slipping easily into her mouth. His lips were so familiar—the way they felt, the way they moved, the way they tasted. She could spend a thousand years kissing him and never grow tired of it. But that was never their issue. When they were together, they worked perfectly. But after dozens of broken promises, could she trust that he’d changed? That, this time, he meant what he said?

  She thought about the days she spent in Chicago with him. How his apartment had shown more signs of being lived in, how he and Sophie were closer than ever, how he indulged his daughter with nearly anything just to make her happy.

  And then she thought about his heartfelt apologies and what he’d given up just to be here tonight to tell her this when he could’ve easily waited another day or two so he didn’t have to sacrifice something so monumental for his business.

  He pulled away, staring at her, his eyes clear and open and more earnest than she’d ever seen them. “Please, Claire. I already lost you once. I can’t lose you again,” he whispered, his voice rough and low and pleading.