Page 5 of Second Chance

My first pit stop is in Arizona. I’m taking the long route home, knowing if I went through Vegas I might not continue east. At the service station, I load up on junk food I typically wouldn’t eat to feed my buzz. As I walk back out to my car, a bag of snacks in my arm, I tap my phone. I’m relieved to see no calls or texts from Dolores. I told her my plan, and she knows it might take me three days to get home. Home. The last place I want to go, and yet I know deep down, it’s time. Dolores has handled everything for long enough. She inherited our grandmother’s diner after our mother disowned it. She’s also been in charge of our mother’s well-being since our father died.

I toss my bag of goodies on the front seat, ready to drop the phone in as well when something stops me—a Facebook notification.

Now what? I think. I told the girls I’d be out of town for a few weeks. I cleared my current shoots and my social calendar. Only the most important people know I’m heading home which consists solely of: my neighbor, Garrett; Abigail, my personal assistant; and Madelyn, my agent at MetroModeling. The rest of my “peeps” I can disconnect from for a bit. Still, something draws me to tap the app and wait as the connection drags. Messenger opens and the first name I see I can’t believe. I read it twice.

Mati Rath.

My thumb quivers as it hovers over her name, the full message incomplete until I open it. I tap the message, and the words stare up at me.

Hey Denton. I’m pretty certain I have the right man. It’s Mati Rathstone. If you have a second, can you message me back?

Rathstone? I chuckle at the full last name. No one called him Rathstone. He’d always gone by Rath, his nickname.

Mati Rathstone, I type. I don’t know a Rathstone, but once upon a time, I knew a Mati Rath. I glare at the statement. This isn’t true. I don’t know Mati Rath any more than I know Mati Rathstone. I left before they married.

I erase the message up to a point.

Mati Rathstone?I only know a Mati Harrington.

Will she know I’m teasing her? She used to tell me I was such a prankster. Actually, she’d say I was a prickster. My lip curls with the memory, and then I force them to flatten. Pranking is how she lost everything, but I remind myself I no longer care.

What do you want? I almost type instead, but then I decide to leave it as I said. I don’t know this woman. I gaze at the letters like they might jump off the screen and Mati will slap me, like she once did. I wonder if she looks the same. Piercing brown eyes. Wild lion-red mane. A personality to match. I shake my head, tossing the phone through the open window.

“She’s probably gotten fat,” I curse under my breath, circling the car for the gas dispenser.

“I bet she’s gone gray and became a blonde to cover it up,” I mutter to myself as I return the nozzle.

I enter the Beast and twist the key, listening to the engine roar to life.

“Fuck it,” I stammer aloud, reaching for the phone one more time and tapping the message to open the link to her personal page.

And there she is.

Mati. My Mati, looking everything like I remember, and yet a little bit different. She isn’t fat. She isn’t gray. She’s goddamn gorgeous. Shit.