Second Chance Summer (Chance #1)(47)
Author: Emma Hart

“I…” How do I answer that? “I don’t know. I decided on New York way before anything happened.”

“If you knew then what you know now?”

“Hindsight is a wonderful thing, Reese. But that doesn’t mean I’d change my decision. Is it worth leavin’ my home for a better future? Yeah, it is. New York isn’t forever. It’s just a stepping stone. I would have always come back here at some point.”

“At some point…”

I tilt my head back again and rest my hand on his cheek. “At some point, yeah. I didn’t mean to come back this summer. I didn’t really want to, but I knew I had to. I didn’t know why I had to, but I do now. I had to come back to make everything right. I had to come back for the truth.”

And that’s it. I didn’t have to come back this summer, not really. Jay would have let me stay with him in a heartbeat if I’d asked – just like he’s letting me move in without batting an eyelid. Staying in New York was always an option, but I still came back. If I didn’t, I’d still be thinking what ifs about every aspect of my life – about my parents, about Reese, about my whole damn life.

I’d still be wondering. I’d still be running.

“Truth is, Kia, I think I still would have been here waiting for you no matter how long it took you to come back.” Reese kisses the tip of my nose.

“Really?” I scrunch my face up. “Even if I didn’t come back until after college finished? In three years?”

He nods. “You drive me crazy in every way possible, girl. You’re it. And you know it. You’re all there is for me. You are my forever.”

“Even though…” I swallow. “…Even though I broke your heart by running away, you would have given me a second chance?”

“Of course I would have. I have already, haven’t I? Call me stupid or whatever, but everyone deserves their second chance. We can’t always get things right the first time round, so we gotta try again, and this is us trying again. This summer is our second chance, baby, and there’s no way we’re getting it wrong this time.”

CHAPTER 15

Sometimes I really wish I was more organized.

My newly empty suitcase glares at me almost accusingly from the corner of my room. Newly empty because, after weeks of being home, I’ve only just completely sorted it out. Ready to start repacking in a week or so.

I won’t lie to myself – the urge to pack it now and go back to New York is almost overwhelming. Knowing that I can drive away from this place yet again almost teases me… Except this time, I wouldn’t be running away from anything. Not really.

This time I’d be running from one problem into another, because in New York is my father, and I’m reminded of that fact every time I look at the piece of paper pinned to my corkboard above my desk.

I want to call him. Everything inside of me is begging me to pick up the phone and dial, but I’m not sure if I’m ready to. It’s strange how we can want something for so long, yet when we’re faced with the chance to have it, we’re suddenly unsure if we really do want it. Of course, it would be much easier if it were straightforward. If there were no divorce, no wedding, and no… baby… I would call in a heartbeat. I’d be on the phone faster than he could answer it.

But there is a divorce. And a wedding. And a damn baby.

I’m reminded of that every time I go to dial his number. I’m reminded of the life he’s lead without me for the last six years. I’m reminded of the fact he was “too cheap” to fight for me but not too cheap to get a new woman knocked up.

I have no idea how it makes me feel, not really. I don’t know if I’ve let myself process it yet; I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with my new reality.

The shrill ring of my cell breaks through the silence, and I jump. I pause for a second, thinking it could be Dad calling, then shake it off. I know it’s my move here.

“I’ve done something really stupid,” my best friend’s voice whimpers through the speaker.

“And you expect me to be surprised by this?” I reply dryly.

“No. Stupid. Really stupid. Really, really, really stupid,” she babbles back.

I sigh and rub my forehead – which is pounding from last night at MIXX. “I’ll be right there.”

~

“You’ve done what?”

“Mmph,” she squeaks, hugging her knees to her chest.

“How the hell can you not remember?”

“I… I don’t know, Kia. I just can’t. It’s a bit blurry.”

“Uh-huh.” I stare at her in disbelief, her red-ringed, worried eyes causing a pang in my chest. “What about the morning after pill? Just in case?”

“It’s Sunday,” Luce whispers. “Everywhere is closed.”

“Not in Dayton. We’ll drive out and get you it. Just in case.” I rub my hand down my face. “Shit, Luce. I really don’t know how you can’t remember whether or not you used protection!”

“You can’t tell him!”

“Hey, I never said I was gonna. It’s not my place to tell him anythin’.”

She drops her forehead to her knees. “Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid!”

I scoot across her bed and wrap my arms around her, even if I do agree with her. “A little.”

“A lot. This is exactly why I didn’t want it to happen. I lose my head whenever he’s around. It was one drink, and then another, and another, and another, and then he’s driving me home, and then bam we’re kissing and then we’re in bed and then…” She takes a deep breath, pausing for a moment. “And then I don’t remember much else except the best f**king orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Typical. She can remember the orgasm, but not a condom. “And because you were at his you can’t even check… Unless you call him.”

Her head shoots up. “I am not calling Adam to see if he wrapped it up!”

My jaw clenches as I stand. Stubborn… “Then you need to get your sorry, hungover ass the hell outta bed, and let me drive you to Dayton so we can get you the morning after pill, just in case.”

“What if someone sees us?”

I look back at her with my eyebrows raised. “It’s that, or you call Adam. Let’s face it, calling him could mean we have to go there anyway.” I grab her sweatshirt and throw it at her. “You f**ked up, Luce, so now you have to sort it before it’s too late.”