No Second Chances (4 page)

Doctor Merryweather smiled as he examined my stump. “This is looking great,” he told me. “Some people wouldn’t be ready for this type of prosthetic for another six months, but you’ve healed brilliantly. Being young and physically fit has definitely helped you with that.”

A warm glow expanded inside me at his praise.

The doctor showed me how to attach my new limb, and I smiled at him as this time he put out his hand and helped me to my feet.

“Have a walk up and down the corridor for five minutes,” he told me. “Make sure it feels completely comfortable. If there are any niggles or anything rubbing, just say, because what feels like something tiny after five minutes, will feel like a rock caught inside the sleeve after you’ve worn it all day.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll be back in five minutes, then?”

His smiled widened. “See you in five.”

I did as he suggested, walking up and down the hospital corridors, focusing on how the new leg fitted and if there was anything causing me any discomfort. As far as I could tell it was far superior to the other one, and I loved the freedom of not feeling like half of my lower body was encased in rubber. Some people might get their kicks from that kind of thing, but I wasn’t one of them.

I went back to the doctor’s office and told him I was completely happy with the new prosthetic.

“That’s great,” he replied, scribbling something on the notes in front of him. “We’ll schedule you an appointment for the same time next week, and then you can take your new leg home.”

“Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He left me alone to put my old leg back on, and then I gathered my purse and made my way out of the hospital and into the parking lot. The idea of my new leg had put me in a great mood, and I planned on treating myself to a drive-thru Starbucks on the way home. Since losing my leg, I had begun to truly appreciate the genius of a drive-thru
anything
.

My car was in the other handy thing I’d learned to love—the handicapped spots, right next to the entrance.

As I fumbled in my purse for my keys, I lifted my head and a figure across the parking lot made my heart stop.

I’d only ever seen him one other time as an adult, but despite this, I recognized him instantly—the newly tattooed sleeves, the broad shoulders, the buzzed short blond hair. My heart leaped into my throat, my body tensing. Absurdly, my first instinct was to throw myself onto the ground between the two cars I was standing beside, and hide until he had gone, but I knew if I did that, I’d never get up again.

Keep walking,
I willed him.
Don’t turn around.

And yet, as though my thoughts had caused him to do so, Cole threw a casual glance over his shoulder and his line of sight landed directly on me.

He smiled at me, and then turned directly around and strolled toward me. I stood, rooted to the spot, my cheeks already burning.

“Gabi,” he said as he approached. “Are you stalking me?”

My eyes widened. “No! Of course not.” I gestured wildly behind me. “I had an appointment.”

“It’s okay. I was kidding.”

The burning in my cheeks grew hotter. “Sure. I knew that.”

His eyes were so blue, and exactly as I remembered them. He’d always had a way of seeing right inside me, his eyes able to search my face and know exactly what was written on my heart. I didn’t feel like that had changed at all.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I was just seeing my specialist. I’m going to be getting a new leg soon.” I felt ridiculously awkward and embarrassed talking to him about my amputation. This guy had once upon a time used his tongue to trace every inch of my skin, and now a massive part of the skin he’d loved—or at least had said he’d loved—no longer existed. Was it weird for him, too? Or did it completely gross him out and he was trying not to think about it?

“So you get a new leg?” he asked, appearing genuinely curious. “Do you have more than one?”

“Well, I have two legs, but only one prosthetic leg.”

I was pleased to see his cheeks color in return. I had gotten to him, and for some reason, I liked that. This was certainly an area where I had one over on him. Annoyingly, the blush made him look even more handsome, the pink in his cheeks a contrast to the ice blue of his eyes and hardness of his jawline.

It suddenly occurred to me that he’d made a joke about me stalking him, but what was he doing at the hospital? I asked him the question.

“Oh, I’m mentoring a kid. He’s not doing so well.”

“What?” There was so much in those two sentences that threw me for a loop. “A kid? Not doing well?”

“Yeah, he’s got issues with drink and drugs. Actually, he’s got issues with pretty much everyone and everything. I’m trying to help him, but it’s not going so well.”

“Why would you be helping him?” Considering Cole’s background, I was amazed he’d be allowed anywhere near another kid who was trouble.

“It’s part of my program to get me back into society. I’m volunteering to try to help youngsters not to make the same mistakes I did.”

He studied me again, and my whole insides lifted and tightened. I hated how he had such an effect on me.

Cole ran a hand over his head. He used to do the same thing when he was eighteen and had long hair to push back. “Look, Gabi. We don’t have to talk about all of this stuff in the parking lot. Let me take you for a coffee.”

I physically backed away. “Oh, no,” I said, even though I’d been promising myself coffee—ideally iced, with vanilla syrup—only moments earlier. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We have a lot to talk about, though. Surely that deserves at least one coffee.”

All I could think about was the pain he’d caused me, how long it had taken me to put myself together again. I’d managed to do it back then, but now I was literally not the same person—not all of her, anyway. I didn’t have the strength to let him back in only for him to break my heart again.

Don’t be stupid, Gabi. He’s not going to want you again. Look at him. He’s ridiculously hot, and you don’t even have both legs anymore. The idea of being with you in any way other than fully clothed would totally gross him out.

I hadn’t even been able to bring myself to think about what sex would be like with a missing limb. I couldn’t imagine it—especially not with Cole.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

“Gabi, I know you still hate me for what happened, but we both live back in the same town again, and we’re going to keep running into one another. Can’t we make this whole thing a lot easier on both of us and at least try to be friends?”

Sudden anger surged up inside me. “So you just want me to sit and drink coffee with you, smile nicely, and chitchat about the good old days.”

His forehead pulled down in confusion. “No, I just want to talk to you, that’s all.”

“Yeah, to make you feel better about all the shit you put me through when we were kids. So you can go home and sleep better in your bed, without having to worry about the poor girl who you’re now living in the same town with, and who is missing a fucking leg.”

It was his turn to step away. “I promise, there was no ulterior motive in asking you for coffee. I honestly just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Sure, I know how that works. Then you’ll go and share all the juicy gossip with your buddies over beer, and you can all have a good laugh about how Gabi Weston is now hopping all over town.”

He shook his head, looking to the ground. “I’m sorry you think that.”

“Yeah, sure you are. You proved to me just what kind of person you are ten years ago.”

With tears burning the backs of my eyes, I fumbled for my keys again. I secured my fingers around them, and without looking back at Cole, I walked at a quick pace to my car.

I got in, and sat, trying to breathe without crying. I was too old, and had been through too much, to sit in my car crying over a guy I hadn’t seen in over ten years. Besides, my outburst at Cole hadn’t been all about what he’d done to me. I had my own guilt to live with, and deep down I was worried that if I had to hear too much about those years he’d spent behind bars, I’d find myself confessing.

Sniffing, blinking back the tears, I put my car into reverse and started to pull out of the space—

Hands slammed down on my rear windshield, and I jumped, jamming on the brakes. “Jesus Christ!”

A figure appeared at my car window and tapped with knuckles. I rolled it down and Cole’s face appeared in the space.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded.

“I didn’t want you to leave without giving you this.” He held out a slip of paper. “I know you’ll probably burn it, but I just wanted to say that if you ever need me for anything, you can call me, okay?”

I stared at him, not taking the slip, so he leaned in and placed the paper on my dashboard. “Take care of yourself, Gabs.”

And he stepped away, allowing me to pull out of the parking lot.

Chapter Eight

Cole – Present Day

I shouldn’t be
surprised Gabriella Weston hated me.

What had I been hoping for—that the years would have faded everything I did, and she would come rushing back into my arms? She’d been my one and only real girlfriend, but that didn’t mean I’d been hers. She could have been married and divorced again for all I knew. Hell, she could still be married, though I hadn’t heard any rumors about a husband, and I was pretty sure if there was someone special in her life, they would be with her during a time like this. The same couldn’t be said for me. Gabi was the only girl I’d ever loved. I’d been in prison for the past ten years. I hadn’t exactly had much opportunity to create new relationships. Not that my location made much of a difference. Even if I’d been a free man, I didn’t think I’d ever find a love that would burn as strong and bright as the love I’d had for her when I was seventeen, going on eighteen.

How different would things have been if I hadn’t screwed everything up? We might be married by now, have a couple of kids of our own. She might not have gone through whatever trauma had cost her her leg.

I had a shift later that day, the evening shift, which meant I wouldn’t be getting off until the early hours of the morning. I wouldn’t mind the later finish if I could just figure out a way to sleep in the next day. After spending most of my adult life under prison rules, my body was trained to wake at six a.m., and even when I didn’t collapse on my bed until after one, I still found my eyes pinging open right before six. I was conditioned, that was for sure, but I wanted to leave my prison life behind me. The future I’d dreamed of when I was eighteen had never materialized. In fact, I’d been forced to put it off for another ten years, but now I had a second chance and I didn’t intend on fucking things up again.

I took a shower, got dressed, and headed out to my shift. As usual, the kitchen was busy and hot, and I nodded my hellos to the guys working their asses off to make sure customers got their meals on time. I was on prep for the start of the shift, and would move to pans later in the night after most of the meals had gone out. It wasn’t exactly classy work, but I was allowed to keep my head down and get on with things without being forced to interact with too many people.

As I worked, my thoughts kept drifting to Gabi. Both times I’d seen her had felt like a punch to the chest. It was like stepping back in time, and I had to physically stop myself from reaching out and touching her as we spoke, just as I always had when we were teenagers. She looked exactly the same to me, though I knew I must appear brutish to her. Ten years behind bars would harden a guy up. I wondered if she hated my tattoos, and that my hair was so much shorter now. Did she feel nostalgic in any way for the boy I had been back then?

The kitchen was always a noisy place, pans crashing and banging, meat sizzling, and people shouting orders to one another, but, beneath it all, a commotion sounded from the front of house. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering what was going on. It was normally a pretty chilled out place to work, but something was definitely up. I heard shouts, and a plate crashed.

One of the waitresses burst into the kitchen, her gaze flicking across the space until it landed on me.

“Hey, Cole,” she yelled. “We need you out front. Some asshole is having a fit about his meal.”

“Can’t you handle it?”

“No, we need you.”

I was never asked to be front of house. The owner didn’t think I would be good for business. But most of the people working out front were women—the hostess and waitresses. Perhaps they just needed someone who appeared a little intimidating. I figured I fit that bill.

I dropped the potatoes I was peeling, the vegetables splashing into the muddy water, and barely stopped to wipe my hands on the apron I wore.

Shouts filtered through to the kitchen, and, as I pushed open the door, they grew louder. A small group had gathered in a circle around someone who was standing at the end of a table, a clutter of broken crockery at his feet.
Asshole.
Who the hell came into a restaurant to start a fight?

I squared my shoulders, fully planning on grabbing this guy and throwing him out of the door. I couldn’t afford to get myself in any more trouble, but I figured there were enough witnesses around to explain how I was the one trying to put this to an end, not start it. I sensed Deano at my shoulder. He’d also been working in the kitchen, and I knew I had backup. As I pushed through the small crowd, one of the waitresses—a tiny woman in her fifties—tried to placate the man.

“Stupid bitch,” said the guy. “If my meal is tasteless, I ain’t gonna pay for it!”

“But you ate the whole thing …” She was still trying to reason with him.

The man must have noticed the movement in the crowd as I approached, and his head whipped toward me. The moment he locked eyes with me, I froze in surprise. What was it with people crawling out of the woodwork at the moment? Or perhaps it was just that I’d been away for so long. Everyone else had been around this whole time.

Ryan.

He straightened, his eyes widening. “Fuck me, Cole Devonport.”

To my astonishment, he apparently forgot the scene he’d created and strolled toward me. With me stunned into inaction, he grabbed my hand and shook it, smacking me on the shoulder with his other hand. I could feel everyone staring, trying to connect the two of us. Plenty of people knew about my prison stay, and I didn’t want to be associated with the likes of Ryan Becks. My reputation was bad enough as it was.

I dragged my fingers out of his hold and took a step back. “I think you need to leave, Ryan.”

“Now is that the way to greet an old friend?”

I scowled. “We’re not friends. We never were.”

He barked a laugh. “No? You could have fooled me.”

“Leave, Ryan, or we’ll call the cops.”

He gave a smug smile. “You know the police pretty well by now, don’t you?”

I balled my fists, resisting the urge to lunge for him and break his face. I kept my tone even, though anger bubbled beneath the surface. “This is your last chance. Turn around and walk away, or the police are going to be called.”

He gave a nonchalant shrug. “No problem. I didn’t want to stay in this shit hole any longer, anyway.” He turned, and for a moment I thought he was going to leave without any more trouble, but then he spun back to me. “Hey, how’s that piece of skirt you used to hang out with? Gabriella, wasn’t it? Is she still as fit as she was back then?” He chuckled. “I remember how she was always gagging for it.”

A red haze descended over my vision, and I was no longer aware of any of the people around us, or how I was supposed to be protecting my already ruined reputation. With a growl, I lunged toward Ryan, my shoes crunching on the smashed crockery. Hands grabbed my arms from behind, holding me back. I shook them off, but the delay had given Ryan just enough time to turn and saunter from the building, the little bell above the door ringing as the door swung shut behind him. I could make out his figure walking into the night. A part of me—a massive part—wanted to race after him and smash his head into the sidewalk, but I knew I couldn’t. Going after him now would be viewed as assault, and it would put me right back behind bars.

What the hell was he doing back here? As far as I was aware, Ryan had left town not long after I’d been incarcerated. I wondered if he’d seemed as surprised about seeing me as I’d been about him. Had the shock in his eyes matched my own, or had he been a little too confident about approaching me again for the first time in ten years?

I didn’t know, but the last thing I needed right now was the likes of Ryan back in my life.