Second Chances (3 page)

I wake up late the next morning since I don't have to be at the dance studio until 11. I hop in the shower to try and relax my sore muscles. They won't be getting a break today, so I need to do what I can. When the hot water finally runs out, I climb out and throw my robe on and head back to my room. I can wear casual clothes to the studio today, which is a huge relief. I slide on a hot pink sports bra and a comfortable pair of short, black shorts. I tug a comb through my wet hair and head down to the kitchen. 

I find Mom sitting at the small kitchen table with her hands wrapped tightly around a mug of what is probably lukewarm coffee. I never really know when she will be home or not. She works a lot of hours at a department store in the next town and her hours are always changing. It keeps her busy though, and that's the important thing. She's wearing a ratty, white robe and her light brown hair is wadded into a messy, frizzy knot on top of her head. She doesn't even seem to notice that I've come into the room. She has a far off look on her face and is staring at the corner of the kitchen. Maybe this should seem strange to me, but it happens quite often since Dad's death. She is existing, and that's about it. I don't know what I can do about it, if anything.

“Oh, good morning, Haylee,” she says softly, as I grab a banana. It's sad, but I don't even want to sit down at the table with her. I'm still struggling with feelings of grief myself and seeing her like this guts me. Avoidance is my coping mechanism with this particular problem. 

“Morning, Mom,” I respond, as I force a smile and try to sound upbeat in hopes of bringing her along with me. 

“Do you have dance today?” she asks. She actually makes eye contact with me, so I stop and stand against the counter for a moment. 

“Yup.”

“That's good.” Her mouth attempts a small smile. “Say 'hello' to Brynn and Madame Eileen for me. I'm really looking forward to your next performance.” She is oblivious to the fact that Brynn and I hardly speak anymore.

“I will. I'm gonna go finish getting ready,” I tell her and bound back up the stairs. That is why I still dance. The woman lives in a perpetual state of misery but she loves that I dance. How can I take that away from her? It's the least I can do for her, especially since I don't have any other ideas. We'd both seen counselors after his death, and while I went for about a year, I found out later that she quit after only a couple of months. 

One foot in front of the other
, I tell myself as I return to my bedroom and put on a little bit of mascara and lip gloss. I don't like being home with her any more than I have to. I feel terrible about that, but each day it's struggle enough to keep myself going. I will keep dancing for her, even though it makes me miserable.

I gather up my backpack, flip flops, and sunglasses and I'm ready to head over to the garage where Griff works until I have to go to the studio. I call out a good-bye to Mom as the door bangs closed behind me and bound down the three porch steps only to find that Punkin is sitting here waiting for me.

I smile and bend over to scoop her up. “Hey, Punkin,” I coo and place a kiss on the top of her furry orange head. Instantly, she is purring. “I'll be back later,” I tell her as I set her back down and turn to the side of the house where my car is. I've been so focused on Punkin that I haven't noticed a strange car parked a little ways down the driveway. I stop dead in my tracks when I finally notice that there is a guy standing there between me and my driveway.

I feel a scream rising up in my throat but catch it somehow by slapping a hand over my mouth. Adrenaline shoots through my body like I've been struck by lightning. He's older for sure, taller, even more well-built than I remember, but there is no mistaking that that is Chase Atwood standing in my yard.

“Hayles,” he practically whispers, and smiles that crooked smile that haunted my dreams each night. Am I dreaming? His voice is deeper and richer than I remember. He's wearing a pair of dark but distressed blue jeans that hang low from his hips and a simple, black t-shirt. He has a fitted, grey Hurley hat on backwards just like he used to wear all the time around the lake. His electric blue eyes are drinking me in.

I release my hand from my mouth, confident that nothing beyond a whisper can come past my trembling lips at this point. “Chase?” I'm not even sure the sound actually leaves my mouth, but it's most definitely a question. This can't be real. What is he doing here? Tears are pricking my eyes.

“God, you look amazing. How've you been, Hayles?” he asks and he starts taking steps, closing the distance between us. So many thoughts and emotions flood me at that moment. My heart is practically pounding out of my chest, my hands are shaking like I OD'd on caffeine and I begin to feel dizzy. I've imagined seeing him again more times than I can possibly count. There are so many things I want to say to him but I feel like a top spinning out of control.

  He's close enough now that he can reach out and touch me if he just lifts his arm. My whole body is shaking. I want to throw my arms around him. I want to slap him. I want to ask why he lied to me. I want to know what he's doing back here, but there is a total misfire between my brain and my mouth.

“I can't do this,” I whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks as I sidestep around him and run to my car. Before I even think about what I'm doing, I turn the key in the ignition and back out of my driveway. I'm on autopilot as I drive to the garage in town where Griff works, and I'm sobbing like a baby and shaking like an epileptic by the time I get there. I leave the driver's door of my car open in my hurry to get to Griff. It's as if I am having an out of body experience. I can hear the sobs escaping my mouth and I know that I'm going to freak Griff right the fuck out, but I can't get control of myself. I walk right into one of the bays and drop down on my knees beside the car he's working on.

“Haylee, what happened?!” he demands, his typically calm demeanor lost completely. I need to get ahold of myself enough to speak. He kneels down in front of me as I hear Parker, a friend that he is working with that morning, step up behind me.

“I just saw Chase,” I manage to sob against his chest. 

“What? Where?” he asks pulling back from me a little and wiping the tears from my cheeks with a clean rag that's stashed in the front pocket of his jeans. “On TV? In a magazine again?” I know exactly why he's asking that. A year ago I'd grabbed a copy of Wake magazine and on the cover in all his bare-chested glory was my childhood friend triumphant over winning the amateur triple-crown in the King of Wake competition for the second year in a row. I'd been a wreck after seeing it and being reminded of all those memories and feelings.

“My front yard.”

He leans down to look me in the eyes like he's thinking that I'm crazy. Hell,
I
think I'm crazy!

“Chase Atwood was in your front yard? Just now?”

I nod and wipe the snot from my nose.

“What did you say?” he asks more quietly now, beginning to understand what has me so rattled.

I gulp some air. “I told him 'I can't do this' and hopped in my car and came here.” I barely get it out before I am sobbing again. That's certainly not how I'd envisioned seeing Chase again. I'm not normally a hysterical kind of girl either. The way I'm acting now is much more Brynn's style, so I really don't know what to do with myself.

“It's okay, Haylee,” Griff tries to sooth me as he pushes my hair back out of my face. “Listen, I'll go find him and talk to him, okay?”

I nod and bite my bottom lip hard enough that a metallic taste springs up at the tip of my tongue. He helps me up and asks Parker, who appeared when he heard my hysterics, to take me into the office and wait with me. And then Griff is gone.

“Let me grab you some water, Haylee,” I half-hear Parker say as he leads me into the office and has me sit down in a chair against the wall. 

“I'm fine,” I mumble. I'm not, of course, but I have gotten pretty used to telling people that over the years. Parker is a friend who hangs out with us at the lake all the time, and sometimes works with Griff at the garage, but I don't need him on the list of people who worry about me.

I am so relieved that Griff believes what I've told him. So many people would have insisted that I am nuts and just imagined seeing Chase, that it's just wishful thinking. And maybe I did. Maybe I really
am
starting to lose my grip on reality. It won't surprise me really. No, Chase
has
to have been real. The only time I've seen him since he left was the picture on the cover of the magazine plus a small picture in the article about him. I still have the magazine under my bed and I've looked at it at least a couple million times, but the Chase from a few minutes ago had been different even from that. If I had imagined him, then my subconscious would have presented him the way I remembered him -- leaner and more lanky. The guy I saw a few minutes ago is taller and covered in chiseled muscle. There was a sadness in his eyes that I had never seen before. It could only mean he is really, really here.

“Haylee, you don't look so good.” Parker interrupts my thoughts as he hands me a bottle of water and sits down on the edge of the desk in front of me. “Let me take you home.”

I shake my head. “What time is it?”

He glances back at the desk. “It's 11:10.”

“Shit!” I curse and stand up on shaky legs. “I'm late for dance.” I move toward the door, but Parker grabs my arm.

“At least let me drive you. It's just down the road and I can walk back.”

I nod. I don't feel like arguing and I don't have time to waste. Madame Eileen is going to eat me alive as it is. I knot my hair into a mess on top of my head and wipe my face with Griff's rag again.

“Thanks, Parker,” I call out to him without even looking back as I hurry inside the studio. The cold, stale air burns my still-watery eyes, and I have no idea how I am going to get through this. I drop my bag along the side wall and hurry into position, earning raised eyebrows and smirks from the other girls as I do.

“Ms. Weston,” Madame Eileen's shrill voice rings out from right behind me. I shiver. “To what do we owe the honor of your late presence this morning?”

I cringe as I attempt to continue with the warm up stretches. “I'm sorry.”

Madame Eileen glides her willowy frame right in front of me and I avert my eyes. She is damn scary for such a small woman. Her salt and pepper hair is slicked back in a bun so tight that she will never need plastic surgery to lift her eyes. They are angled back from the sheer force of her bun just like always.

I can feel her taking in my disheveled appearance and I can also hear a few snickers from the bitches beside me. “What drama has descended upon you
this
time?”

“Nothing. I'm fine,” I murmur, fighting back more tears. I will not cry here.

“Then let's work!” the woman shouts, causing me to jump, and other than the music, everything else is silent.

Madame Eileen had been somewhat understanding when my father died. She'd been lenient on me then, but before that when Chase left and I couldn't possibly explain to her how devastated I was, she worked me to the bone until my tears ran dry. I've learned to control my emotions in here at least. Or so I thought.

I am so distracted by thoughts of Chase that I can't focus on what I am supposed to be doing. I keep messing up and bumping into the other girls. They don't waste the opportunity to shoot me dirty looks and elbow me back.

The image of Chase standing there in my yard is seared onto my retinas. He'd always been really good-looking, but this morning, after four years, holy hell, he looks like perfection. For the couple of years before he left, I had begun to realize that I felt more for him than just simple friendship. I couldn't tell him that at the time though. He's a guy and he'd been my friend for years. It would have freaked him out and changed things for sure. When he left and I felt the depth with which that affected me, I realized that I'd been in love with him. Seeing him this morning, it pained me to admit it but I knew that I was
still
in love with him. I don't want to be though. He hurt me terribly. What is he doing back here anyway?

I don't even notice when the music cuts off suddenly and I finally look up to find everyone staring at me.

“That's enough, Ms. Weston,” Madame Eileen calls out as she stalks over to me. “You are a danger to my dancers right now. I don't know what is going on, but I want you to leave here immediately and go fix whatever it is.”

I have never been dismissed from practice before. My cheeks flame in embarrassment as I sigh shakily. 'Go fix it'…if only it were that easy.

“And I will expect you back here at six am tomorrow morning to make up your time with me, minus the distraction.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I reply quietly and walk past the other dancers to grab my backpack. I can feel Brynn's eyes on me as I cross the room. I wonder how she will react to the news that Chase is back.

The tears start up again as I drive back home. I am apprehensive pulling into my driveway, but there is no strange car here now. I let out a shuddering breath as I walk up the steps and open the front door.

I'm halfway up the stairs to my bedroom when Mom suddenly appears at the top and scares the everloving crap out of me. I don't want her to see me like this. “You're out early,” she says and then I see worry pass over her face as she takes in the fact that I've been crying.