Second Chance Read online

  “Everything you can get back,” Holly said quickly.

  “No. No! He can’t give me back my baby. My Rose Holly.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, but she’d been pushed past the point of caring. “She was dead and buried before she ever had a chance to live. And do you know why? Because I caught Jazz having sex with Charity and ran away. I tripped down a flight of stairs and killed my sweet baby girl.”

  With a gasp of horror, her sister reeled backward. “You named her after me,” she whispered. “I knew you were pregnant, knew you’d lost the baby, but I didn’t know… I didn’t know!”

  “It shouldn’t have mattered!”

  Carol reached for Dorothea, but she sidestepped, widening the distance between them. Accepting comfort was beyond her right now.

  Jazz hung his head with shame, and Charity openly cried. Only Daniel remained stoic, as if untouched by the proceedings. And yet in his eyes she saw a fury to rival her own.

  “I blame Jazz. I blame Charity. Mostly, I blame myself.” Pain ruled Dorothea, and now that she’d started, she couldn’t stop. “Rose would have been a year old now. Or eight months if I’d carried her to term.”

  “I regret that day so much.” Jazz reached for her, just as Carol had done, but once again Dorothea sidestepped.

  If he touched her right now, she would claw off his face. Would punch and kick and knock his balls into his throat. Maybe kill him. The pain had stripped her of any hope for a better future, leaving her trapped in a deep, dark pit of despair.

  Daniel’s calm vanished in a snap. He shoved Jazz against the wall. “Keep your hands off her or lose them.”

  Her focus returned to her sister. “You say you weren’t trying to punish me, but we both know you’re lying.”

  Holly covered her mouth with a shaky hand. “Dots—please. Please.”

  A brutal shake of her head. One step back. “Don’t. Just don’t. How many times did I beg you for a modicum of mercy? How many times did you ignore me?”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Not good enough. “Everyone says karma is a bitch, but you certainly gave her a run for her money.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Holly repeated. “Please. You have to believe me.”

  Dorothea continued backing away. “I didn’t just lose my baby that day, I lost my chance to have a family, and now I don’t think I’ll ever want one. All they do is tear you down.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  FOR THE FIRST TIME, Daniel spent the entire night with Thea. He held her as she cried. When she quieted, he did his best to comfort her as well as make her more comfortable. The lights were extinguished, the room filled with shadows. For once, he didn’t resent the lack of illumination. The look on his face might scare her. The look on hers might destroy him.

  As much as he’d suffered in life, this woman had endured a thousandfold worse. The loss of a child…given astronomical odds for having another…he couldn’t even fathom the depths of her pain.

  She remained stiff in his arms, unresponsive and unwelcoming. He was pretty sure she would have asked him to leave if not for the dogs, who were cuddled on her other side, sleeping peacefully. She was curled into them, clinging to them, as if they were a life raft.

  He wanted to be her raft, even though he didn’t deserve the privilege. The past few days, he’d been distant with her, frustrated that she didn’t trust him to see her naked, hungry for her, all while trying to control the emotions she elicited within him. The more time he spent with her, the hotter he burned for her. He craved her constantly, even when she was in his arms. Especially when she was in his arms. He thought about her when she wasn’t with him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her when she was.

  At some point, her mother came knocking on the door, but he sent her away. Holly came knocking, too.

  “Please,” the girl said. “I need to talk to her.”

  “You had your chance. Now you’re going to act like a grown-up and wait.” He shut the door in her face.

  After resettling beside Thea, he kissed her temple.

  “By morning the entire town is going to know about…” Her voice quavered.

  “No. They won’t. I promise you.” He’d already spoken to everyone who’d been present during her revelation. Or more accurately, he’d threatened everyone who’d been present. If anyone else found out what Thea had revealed, heads would roll…after bodies were beat black-and-blue. “Do you want to talk about—”

  “No.”

  He stretched out an arm to switch on the bedside lamp. No more hiding in the shadows. “Do it, anyway,” he said as light spilled over her. He wondered if her child would have resembled her. Those corkscrew curls and shamrock eyes. Those adorable freckles.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Share your pain with me. Let me help you fight it.”

  “Share my pain with you the way you share yours with me?” she said with a sneer.

  She was…right. Though she’d asked, he’d never really talked about his PTSD. To protect her from the harsh reality of military life, he’d told himself. No reason to burden her with the bleakness of war.

  Hogwash, his dad would say. Truth was, the thought of copping to the things he’d done scared the shit out of him.

  He’d heard many people say that a little fear was okay, that it was acting despite the fear that made you brave. He disagreed. Fear was never okay. Fear weakened. Fear destroyed. Look what it had done to his relationship with Thea. True bravery was doing what was right, despite the consequences. Fear was simply the enemy in the way.

  “I lost friends,” he told her. “A lot of friends. And I killed people in the heat of battle. A lot of people. When I sleep, I dream of their deaths. I hear their screams.”

  As he spoke, she softened against him. “I imagine taking a life is difficult.”

  In more ways than one. “Before, during and after, it’s hell on earth. You end someone’s chance to do better, to be better.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m also grateful for your service. You protected our home.”

  “You aren’t afraid of me?” he asked. “Knowing I’m capable of committing murder.”

  “Not even a little.”

  “You aren’t disgusted?”

  “Only by the farts coming from your dogs.”

  A surprised laugh woke Echo, who barked before she promptly fell back to sleep. Daniel traced his fingers up and down Thea’s arm, something easing inside him. A pressure he hadn’t known he’d endured. A weight he hadn’t known he’d carried. “I’ve never really talked about this with anyone.”

  “Not even Jude and Brock? I bet they understand better than anyone.”

  “They do, but no. We haven’t talked about the past, haven’t wanted to burden each other. Sharing with you is…nice.” Only a slight pause before he said, “Tell me about Rose.”

  She went stiff again. “There’s nothing else to tell.”

  “I think there is.”

  “Well, that just proves you’re not nearly as smart as me.” A moment later, she withered. “I’m sorry. I’m being cruel, and you don’t deserve it.” A heavy breath shuddered from her. “I loved her so much.”

  “Rose is a beautiful name.”

  “Lovely and delicate, like she was.” She sniffled, and the sound just about broke his heart.

  “Your tattoo…”

  “Yes. For her. An outward sign of my love for her.”

  He tightened his hold, wishing he could protect her from the world. Even from herself.

  “What happened…the way I lost her…it truly was an accident, and might have happened regardless—I was cramping that day. Bleeding, even. But now I’ll never know. And…and I loved that girl with every fiber of my being. I miss her. I want her with me.”


  He had no words. There were no words good enough.

  An image flashed through his mind. Thea’s belly rounded with his child…and it didn’t upset him the way he thought it would. And that threw him. Frightened the shit out of him.

  No fear. Not anymore.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss, Thea.” Having memorized every inch of her body, he traced his fingers over one of the scars on her abdomen. Despite the barrier her shirt created, he never missed a single inch of raised tissue.

  “I would have given her the best life possible. And if anyone had picked on her the way I was picked on…”

  Heads would have rolled.

  It had been one tragedy after another for this precious woman, one rejection after another, and yet she’d never waved the white flag. That was courage. She possessed a soul-deep strength and a purity of character few others did, both of which mattered far more than outward beauty ever would. Even an outward beauty as magnificent as hers.

  “What was the worst thing about high school?” he asked, steering the conversation to address other hurts she carried. He couldn’t help her with Rose, but he could maybe, hopefully, help her with the others.

  “Eating alone in the cafeteria. My only friends were being homeschooled, and I had no one to talk to.”

  Daniel hated his teen self. This woman would never eat alone again. He would make sure of it.

  “What was the best thing about high school?”

  “When you told me I was perfect just the way I am.”

  Gold star, teen self. “You are perfect. There is nothing about you I would change.”

  In a hesitant voice she asked, “Do you want children? One day, I mean. Never mind,” she muttered a second later. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not going to last. Nothing does.”

  “Nothing does,” he echoed, his voice suddenly as hollowed-out as his chest. With five words—we’re not going to last—she’d somehow hurt him on a level his mind didn’t yet understand, even if his heart did.

  I think I lov—

  Stop! This was an emotionally charged moment. Better to figure out his feelings later.

  She needed a distraction, and so did he. “You know,” he said to lighten the mood, “before we start dating, I need to know—”

  “Before we start dating?” she asked primly.

  “Yeah. Before we can be classified as an official couple, I need to know who’s on your last-supper list.”

  “One nipple twist, coming up,” she said with some of her usual spunk.

  Spunk he’d never been so glad to see. “Pass. But you shouldn’t make threats you’re not going to see through, sweetheart. You love my nipples, and we both know it.”

  “Hmph. Your nipples are passable at best.”

  He grinned up at the ceiling. Damn, he lo—

  Liked her.

  “Now tell me about this last supper,” she said. “I know about the one our lord Jesus attended, but I’m drawing a blank about my own.”

  “It’s simple. If you were going to die tomorrow, which twelve people would you invite to attend your last meal? And I’m not talking about the people you’d like to poison, so you keep that dream list to yourself.”

  She snorted. “I don’t know who I’d invite. I’ve never thought about it. What about you?”

  “I don’t know who you’d invite, either.”

  Acting fast, she twisted his nipple. “Who would you invite?”

  “Oh.” He pried her fingers off the vulnerable crest. “My number one choice would be you, of course.”

  “Please. I’m your girlfriend—well, almost your girlfriend, apparently. You have to say that.”

  “No. You’re my girlfriend, so I get to say that. There’s a huge difference. I’d also invite Jude and Brock and my dad. Both of the pups.”

  “We can invite animals instead of people?”

  “Now, don’t you go planning a barnyard dinner, Dorothea Mathis. You only get to invite two animals.”

  “Why only two?”

  “Because I only have two pets.”

  “So you’re making up the rules as you go along. Got it.” She drummed her nails against his chest, her features no longer tight with strain. “Who else? You’ve got six more seats to fill.”

  He wanted to shout with triumph. I cheered her up. Me. “Do I have to pick from the living or can I pick from the dead?”

  “Why are you asking me? You’re the puppet master, remember.”

  “Well, well. You finally admit I’m in charge.”

  “The only thing I’m admitting is that I may not invite you to my dinner,” she retorted.

  Loving—liking—this teasing side of her, he said, “Someone is just asking for a spanking, isn’t she?”

  “What is it with the Porter men and spankings? Your dad told me your mom used to spank you when you sassed her. And he recommended I do the same. But he did warn me that you would spank me right back.”

  “I guess you’ll have to spank me and find out. And, Thea? I really hope you spank me.” Daniel kissed her temple. “As for my last six guests, I’d have to go with my mom, Santa Claus—”

  “Who isn’t real.”

  “I make the rules, remember? I want to know why I never got that miniature racehorse I asked for.” He continued. “Also Betty Crocker, Winston Churchill, Moses and Jessie Kay would receive a coveted invite.”

  “That’s a great list.” Smug, she said, “Too bad my dinner party will totally blow yours to smithereens.”

  “Well, well. Look who fancies herself a bona fide party planner. Let’s hear your list, Mathis.”

  “First, I have to know who’s picking up the tab for the dinner.”

  “I will. If I’m invited.”

  “Well, heck. I guess you have to be now. So. You, of course. Lyndie and Ryanne. I think I might even invite Harlow, Jessie Kay and Brook Lynn. Princess Diana for her grace and charm. Marilyn Monroe.”

  “Why Miss Marilyn?” He noticed her mom and Holly hadn’t yet made the cut.

  “I want to learn her tricks for enchanting everyone she ever met, as well as everyone else ever born.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t need any tricks. You’ve got it nailed.”

  She gave him another hmph. “Jason Momoa. Because wow. Theo James for the same reason. Oh, and Veronica Corningstone and Ron Burgundy, because they are the best news anchors of any generation, ever.”

  “Ha! Gotta say, that’s a whole lot of beefcake at your table.”

  “But not enough. I’ll put Al Roker on the waiting list.”

  Daniel pretended to think for a moment, then nodded. “All right. Even though you didn’t invite the pups—”

  “They will be sitting on our laps, so I figured I didn’t have to count them.”

  “—your list passes my test. You are now officially my girlfriend.”

  She twisted his nipple a second time, not stopping until he yelped.

  Laughing now, he pried open her fingers. He brought her knuckles to his mouth, kissed them one at a time, savoring the softness of her skin.

  In response, she yawned, the trials of the day finally catching up to her.

  “Try to get some sleep now, okay?” he said.

  “You staying?”

  “I am.”

  “All night?”

  “All night. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

  * * *

  COCOONED IN WARMTH, Dorothea drifted in and out of a light doze, her mind racing. Love, she realized. Daniel had called her love before. And he’d done it more than once.

  She knew she shouldn’t read too much into it, but her heart soared. What if he was falling for her?

  Fantasizing about a future together, she lost track of time but ma
naged to remain cognizant of her surroundings. The mattress springs bounced and squeaked as the dogs jumped down. There was a soft patter of paws, then equally soft sighs. One thump, then another. She was pretty sure the pair had just sprawled across the floor.

  Daniel grunted.

  He had spent hours with her, distracting her, making her think and laugh and forget. Every second, his arms had been around her, offering comfort.

  Like her, he must have fallen asleep when they’d lapsed into silence. His grunting soon turned to groaning, his body jerking as if he’d been punched or shot.

  “No,” he mumbled. “No, no.”

  She’d done her research, as planned, and most PTSD experts agreed it was best to let a nightmare run its course unless it was severe. Then a gentle nudge and a few softly spoken words might be in order. Although, you had to be careful when giving that gentle nudge. The dreamer could attack.

  Dorothea decided it would be best to move out of striking distance. If he hit her, even while unconscious, he would hate himself. She stood at the side of the bed and whispered, “Daniel. Daniel, wake up. It’s Thea.”

  His thrashing slowed.

  “That’s right,” she said. “Come on back to me.”

  The thrashing stopped altogether. With a gasp, he jerked upright. His wild gaze scanned the room. When he spotted her, he stiffened, scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He’d been there for her. Now she would be there for him. She climbed back into bed and cuddled into his side.

  “I’m going to go,” he said, and made an attempt to stand. “You need your rest.”

  “So do you.” She threw herself on top of him, pushing him back onto the mattress. “If you leave, you’ll force yourself to stay awake, and that’s not good for you.”

  “I don’t care. It’s better than the alternative,” he said, but he didn’t try to dislodge her.

  She rested her head just above his heart. “Guess what? It’s your lucky day. Dr. Freckles is in the house, and she’s going to take care of you.”

  His heart kicked into a faster rhythm against her temple. “I thought you hated your freckles.”