Page 93 of Single Chance

I guess I had my final answer.

“I’ll find another place to live,” I said quietly, then turned and left him there alone. The way he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rowan

On Sunday I tried my best to act like it was just another day. Tried to pretend my heart didn’t feel like it’d been shoved through a meat grinder.

I was in the back seat of Presley’s car, Chloe was riding shotgun, and we were finally going to see the lakefront house Presley had bought. Though my eyes were gritty with fatigue, I welcomed the excuse to get out of Chance’s house for a couple of hours. A couplemorehours, as I’d also taken Sam to another knitting session at Fat Cat.

After leaving Chance’s office in the wee hours of the morning, I’d closed myself in my room the way I should’ve done from the start. I hadn’t even tried to sleep, knowing it would elude me. Instead I’d dived back into the search for a place to live.

I’d discovered nothing had really changed. There were still very few listings in Dragonfly Lake. The only one I’d found in my budget was in the town of Runner, about fifteen miles away. I’d never been there and didn’t love the idea of starting over in yet another place, even though I’d still be working at the brewery.

I was desperate to live somewhere else though and had even searched for rentals in Nashville. The problem was rent was higher in a large city, and when you added the cost of commuting an hour each way, it didn’t make sense. I’d be better off finding a job in Nashville, but that wasn’t what I wanted at all.

I apparently wasn’t going to get what I wanted, so I needed to find my plan B and get started on it.

I’d get back to searching tonight.

“Here we are,” Presley said as she turned into a driveway on the lake side of Honeysuckle Road.

“Two doors down from Max Dawson,” Chloe said.

That Presley could buy a house in the same neighborhood as a former NFL player—with cash—said a lot.

She pulled up in front of a three-car garage that was connected to a cottage-style white-with-gray-stonework home.

“Nice,” Chloe said.

“It looks beautiful from here,” I agreed.

“The exterior is in good shape, thank God,” Presley said as she opened her door. “The inside, well, you’ll see.”

The three of us went in the front door, where we could see through a large room with tall windows to the lake beyond.

“That view is amazing,” Chloe said.

“I can’t wait to see it in the summer.” Presley closed the door and gestured us forward.

The three of us wandered around the empty three-thousand-square-foot house, talking as we went.

“I forgot to tell you guys, Bronte Henry was born at nine forty-seven this morning,” Chloe said, her voice animated, as we started with the master bedroom. “Eight pounds, two ounces.”

“Bronte. Adorable name,” Presley said.

“Not a small baby, from what I’ve read,” I said. “Ava and Bronte are doing well? And of course Cash?”

“Everyone’s healthy and happy,” Chloe said. “I cannot wait to meet her. This view? A bed right here? I don’t think I’d ever get out.”

“I call bullshit. You’d never be able tonotwork,” Presley said, laughing. “I have to admit the idea of a view from my bed was part of what made me jump at this house. And the outdoor space is incredible.”

After showing us the master bath, which was large and functional but outdated by her standards, she led us to the living area, explaining her ideas for gutting it, the dining room, and the kitchen to open it all up and update it. “The sunroom was another selling point,” she said as we spun around to admire the windowed breakfast area off the kitchen.

As we toured the upstairs, which had two bedroom suites, an unfinished storage room, and a loft, Presley told us the latest on her insufferable boss in between pointing out features she either wanted redone or that she loved.

“This has so much potential,” Chloe said. “I just have one question.”

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