Page 47 of Second Chance


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“She is mine. My girlfriend, or whatever you want to call it. She’s mine and I’m not letting her go,” I tell him and my words come out more menacing than anything else.

He doesn’t answer me for a long time, and I can see he wants to question me.

“I messed up. But it was ten years ago.” My voice is raw as I tell him the truth, the full confession so close to the tip of my tongue. “How long do I have to pay for it?” I ask him as my heart feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. “How do I make it right?” I barely get out as my breathing gets heavier, faster. I’m truly begging. I’ve never begged for anything, but for her, I’d do anything.

“Did you tell her you were sorry?” he asks me, the questioning in his eyes long gone. I nod my head in response, trying to relax my anxious body. “Did you show her?” he asks.

I can’t respond, because the truth is, I don’t know how. I turn away from him, running a hand down my face and trying to think of what I could do to show her I’m truly sorry I ever left her. I had to though. I couldn’t let her be associated with me, knowing the cops would find out.

But they never did. It’s the guilt that kept the distance between us.

“You left her, pushed her away?” Mark asks from behind me and I turn back around to face him.

“I had to,” I tell him in response, but the words feel hollow. Even I notice the lack of conviction. If only I could go back.

“Maybe you should chase her then.”

I don’t think twice about it, not a second to waste. I shove my palms against the table and get the hell out of the room. “Talk to you soon,” I tell Mark as I leave to go get Hally. When I glance at him as I open the door to leave, he gives me a nod although I’m not sure if it’s an approving one. No one likes to root for someone who keeps secrets from them.

I don’t need anyone’s approval though. I only need Hally.

I have to take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor to the set she’s on, while each second that passes pisses me off. The elevator has never moved so slowly before; the time teases me, taunts me really. As if it wants to torture me this one last time before I get to have her forever.

The hall’s empty when I step out and I already know I’m going to be disappointed. I know something’s off. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

The set’s being taken apart as I walk past it. I keep going, straight to her dressing room. Slipping the phone from my pocket I check for a message from her, but there’s nothing.

My heart stutters and my limbs go stiff; she’s intentionally ignoring me, but I don’t let it stop me. She’s the one who wants to talk, and I can do that now. I only need one more chance.

I check her dressing room. It’s empty.

I check her friend’s, but it’s vacant too.

Standing there numbly, I’m not sure what to do or where to go. I call her, but it doesn’t ring, just goes straight to voicemail. I’ve never felt this alone.

It’s not till I get to my dressing room and find the letter she left that I feel any sort of control.

* * *

Nathan,

* * *

I have to leave. It’s the best thing for me at the moment.

I’m sorry, but I have to take care of myself right now.

* * *

Hally

* * *

I stare at her signature for far too long, tracing the double Ls with the tip of my finger. She didn’t sign it “yours” or “with love.” There’s no mention of us or where we stand. The only question on my mind is where I’m going to find her. Because if it’s the last thing I do, I will find her.

Chapter 22

Harlow

* * *

There’s something soothing about driving. Especially with no radio and the windows down. Even the city traffic wasn’t bad. I kind of liked the sounds of the nightlife. As I head back to my hometown, it’s all just white noise now.

It’s not the kind of white noise that lulls babies to sleep though. My shoulders rise and my neck cracks as the weariness continues to run me down further into the depths of where I was years ago.

Alone and scared. Waiting every second for the cops to come for me. When I saw the news and saw his picture, it destroyed me. I couldn’t even leave my room. I clung to a pillow, trying to will the memory to die. It haunted me and I deserved it. Every day that passed without me being arrested was a day I counted my blessings.

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