Page 9 of Second Chance for the Single Mom

I pulled out my phone to call another Uber.

Then the elevator doors opened in front of me.

And there he was.

5

Haley

My breath seized as I caught sight of my ex for the first time in half a decade.

Lucas’s face still had that same impossible sharpness, like a sculpture carved by someone who understood exactly how to make my knees weak. The strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and dark eyes that always seemed to see through my bravado—none of it had changed.

But there was something different now, something heavier in the way he held himself. He was always intense, but this was new, this quiet weight that clung to him. His beard was fuller than I remembered, shadowing the lines of his face, making him look like a more mature version of the man whose body I used to trace with my fingers in the dark. My hand curled instinctively, remembering.

He stepped forward, smiling as his eyes recognized me. The way he leaned in close, his breath just shy of my skin, sent a ripple through me, one I quickly pretended wasn’t there. I knew that tilt of his head, the way his lips parted just slightly when he was about to say something low and devastating. I used to live for that look, for the way it made my pulse trip over itself. Now, it felt like a relic of something I thought I had buried. But standing this close, the air thick with tension between us, I wondered if it ever really died or if I just convinced myself to stop listening to the echo.

Five years should have been long enough to shake him. Five years should have dulled the sharp edges of whatever this was between us. But looking at him now, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the way the chain around his neck glinted against his collarbone, I knew the truth. He was never just some old flame that had been put out. He was a wildfire of a man, the kind that left scars.

And maybe, just maybe, I was still willing to burn.

“Hales.” The way he said my nickname felt like a caress as he folded me into a hug. I felt stiff at first, but quickly melted in his embrace.

It’s like no time has passed at all.

I chuckled as he pulled away. “Been a while since I’ve heard anyone other than my sister call me Hales.”

“It’s your name.” His smile was warm and cutting. “You look like you haven’t aged a day.”

I snorted. “That’s kind of you to say, even if it’s not true.”

He frowned in confusion, but then said, “I came downstairs to meet you. Didn’t expect to see you standing there.”

His voice was slow and gravelly, the kind that dragged over my skin like rough silk—low, rough, and just a little too knowing.

“I, uh, just pressed the button,” I said as he stood to the side, ushering me into the elevator. “This is a nice building.”

“It’s not my condo,” he explained. “It belongs to my friend Shay. He’s letting me stay here until I can find a place of my own.”

Ah. That explained how he could afford one of the nicest condos in Vancouver.

“Shay is the friend that came over tonight,” he added carefully.

“Ah,” I replied, not sure what else to say. The subtext was there.

The friend we’re having a threesome with.

Lucas’s scent, warm and familiar, wrapped around me like a memory as we took the elevator to the third floor. Emotion and attraction swirled within me, ignited by the memories attached to that scent. The elevator doors were mirrored, allowing me to indirectly get a better look at him. He was wearing old jeans with holes in the knees, and a tight-fitting T-shirt that looked like it was painted on. His biceps bulged against the fabric. He was every bit as fit as he had been as a teenager, maybe even more so.

We exited the elevator, walked down a hallway, then entered the condo. Normally, I would have immediately sized up the place, estimating the square footage and how much it would sell for if it went on the market tomorrow, but my eyes immediately locked onto the man standing next to the couch.

He leaned against the wall, hands tucked into the front pocket of his hoodie, the fabric stretched just enough to hint at his strength underneath. His dark hair was slightly mussed, like he’d just run a hand through it without thinking. There was something effortless about the way he held himself—relaxed but watchful, like he was sizing me up without making it obvious.

The soft cotton of his hoodie did nothing to hide the sharp line of his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble making him look even more like the kind of trouble I wouldn’t mind getting into. His eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, I forgot to breathe. He had a quiet intensity that pulled me in, steady and slow.

I wasn’t sure what I had expected. But this wasn’t it.

This was so much better.

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