Second Chance Summer (Chance #1)(17)
Author: Emma Hart

Stay by Black Stone Cherry.

Mom played it endlessly after Dad left, and I taught myself the acoustics to ease the pain. Like singing it would bring him back, like begging would make him come back and stay.

The worst thing is that this song totally encompasses everything Reese and I are, and he sings it so beautifully. I never knew he could sing, but his voice has a husky, deep quality to it that combined with his southern twang makes me want to stay.

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the swing come to a natural still as he sings. Tears sting at my eyes and one escapes, trailing silently down my cheek. I’m not even sure who I’m crying for.

I could be crying for the girl who wanted her daddy to come home. I could be crying for the girl who ran away last year. Or I could be crying right now for the girl so jaded by her parents that she’s afraid to let go and fall into something that could be so, so beautiful.

And I realize I’m crying for all of those things, but mostly because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of never having that beauty. I’m afraid of one day, never looking into someone’s eyes and seeing the love my father had for my mother.

But, ultimately, I’m scared of looking into Reese’s eyes and not seeing that beautiful love.

Reese leans the guitar against the tree and his hands frame my face, his thumbs wiping at my cheeks. He touches his mouth to the spots just below my eyes, his lips hot against my skin. His body rests between my legs, my knees half-gripping his waist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against me.

I shake my head, my hands twitching in my lap before making their way to his sides where I run my fingers along his skin. “Don’t be sorry.”

I breathe heavily, and his nose trails down the side of my face, his breath against my lips. He pauses, his lips suspended above mine, and when I don’t protest he takes them in a gentle kiss. It quickly turns to more when I grip at him tighter, and he cups the back of my head. Our tongues swipe against each other’s, and my legs squeeze his sides slightly.

“I just wondered if it was true,” he whispers, releasing me.

“If what was true?” I look in his eyes.

“Would it? Make you stay?”

I swing back and get up, turning away from him. “I…”

“Because it’s true. The lyrics, that is.”

“If you love me, Reese, then it’s the me you knew a year ago.” I walk toward the house. “I’ve changed in that year; I’ve grown up.”

“You think that makes you so different?”

“I know it does!” I stop and run my fingers through my hair, turning to him. “I know I’m different. I know I’m not the girl I was last year, the girl you say you love.”

“Huh.” He stands and tilts his head to the side. “That’s funny, because the girl I know and you have a lot in common.”

“Like what?”

“The way you smile when you’re genuinely happy. The shadow of sadness in the back of your eyes you think no one can see. The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating, the way you run your fingers through your hair when you’re frustrated. But you know what else is the same? The way you walk away every single time.”

I have no words. How do you reply to that? How do you deny things that are so true to the person that knows every part of you?

“Why are you still here, Reese?” I ask in a quieter voice. “Why haven’t you left yet?”

“I’m here because I can’t f**kin’ leave. You think I haven’t tried, Kia? You think I haven’t damn well tried to leave the way you did?”

“You haven’t tried hard enough!” I yell, my emotions getting the better of me as they always have done with him. “If I walked away, you can too!”

“No, I can’t!” He clenches his fists at his sides and starts walking toward me. “Even now, with you so blatantly pushing me away, I still can’t f**king do it, Kia!”

“Why?” Tears leave my eyes. “Why can’t you do it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I care more than you did.”

I suck in a breath, his words cutting me right to the core, and shake my head. “Don’t! Don’t ever say that to me!”

“Why? You did it so easily, but it’s so hard for me! You did it after three months of us, yet I can’t do it after a year of nothing so it must be true!” He throws his hands in the air, and I storm across the yard to him, my palms slamming into his solid chest.

“The day I left I broke my f**king heart!” I cry. “You don’t know how hard that was for me! You don’t know how many times I cried my goddamn heart out in New York because I just wanted to run back here to you, so don’t you stand there and tell me I don’t care! I’ve always cared, and I still do!” I hit him in the chest again. “You don’t know how much it broke my heart to leave you,” I say quieter. “You don’t know how much it would break my heart again.”

He grabs my shaking body into him, crushing me against his chest, and my knees buckle. His hand splays on my back, holding me up, and the other cups my head. He buries his head in my shoulder.

“Don’t ever tell me I don’t care as much as you do.” Tears stream down my cheeks. “I care too much.”

“I should have come after you.”

“And done what?” I laugh through my tears.

“Hell, I don’t know. I should have said everything then instead of waiting for you to come back. I took the easy way out, and now look. It’s just makin’ everything harder. Maybe…” He takes a deep breath and places his lips by my ear. “Maybe if I’d just said it all then, maybe it would have been enough to make you stay.”

“I’ll never stay in the Grove,” I whisper. “I can’t.”

“I don’t give a f**k about this place.” He tilts my head back and runs his thumb across my cheek. “Maybe it would have made you stay with me.”

“Harlan Grove is your home, Reese. I can’t be in New York and stay with you. Not that’s how it works.”

“Isn’t it?” His gold-flecked eyes are intense on mine. “How do you know I wouldn’t have gone with you? How do you know I wouldn’t have left?”

“We were eighteen. Kids. Hell, we’re only nineteen now.”

“Why does our age have to make a difference? You think I give a damn how old we are? You think the fact we’re still teenagers makes me love you any less than if we were thirty? ‘Cause it don’t, baby. It don’t make a bit of difference to me.” He presses his forehead against mine. “Now or in ten years’ time, I’ll still feel the same need to follow you wherever you go. I just wish I’d had the balls to do it a year ago.”