Page 13 of Second Chance Faceoff

“Or maybe you’re still holding onto something that happened long ago.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re not exactly objective when it comes to Colton. Maybe you’re still hurt because you had the biggest crush on him, and he didn’t live up to the fantasy.”

“It’s not about a fantasy. It’s about who the real Colton is.”

“And who’s that? The guy who helped your mom in the kitchen, or the guy who made one careless comment years ago? Because from where I’m standing, he’s here, cleaning kennels and helping volunteers. That doesn’t seem selfish to me.”

“You don’t get it, Tessa. He’s not what he seems.”

“Or maybe you’re just afraid to admit he’s not the guy you thought he was—in a good way.”

Silence.

“Riley, that was years ago. Maybe it’s time to let it go.” Tessa said, her tone softening.

“It’s not about letting it go,” I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “It’s about not letting him fool me again.”

Even as I said it, a tiny flicker of panic kicked in. What if I let myself believe this was the real Colton—the decent guy I used to think he was? What if I am wrong again? I didn’t think I could survive being that wrong twice.

I pulled into the rescue parking lot and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. The last thing I needed was to lose my temper in front of the volunteers. But as I stepped out of my car, I spotted Colton near the barn, talking to one of the dogs like they were old friends.

The sleeves of his flannel shirt were shoved up to his elbows, and dirt was smudged along one forearm like he’d been elbow-deep in a kennel. He wasn’t just playing the part. He looked like he belonged here.

And that pissed me off more than if he’d been phoning it in. How could he fake it so well? I squared my shoulders and considered marching over, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

Instead, I just stood by my car. I don’t know what stopped me. Maybe Tessa’s words were still in my ear. Maybe what I was watching was the real Colton. And perhaps everything else was, I don’t know what? A coping mechanism? One that used to work—but clearly isn’t anymore.

Or maybe I didn’t want to spoil this spectacular fall day. I love days like today.

The early autumn air was crisp, with the faint smoky tang of fallen leaves starting to decay. A soft breeze stirred the windchimes hanging from the old porch beam, their delicate tinkling overlaying the occasional bark from the kennels.

Some volunteers walked dogs near the fence line, bundled in light jackets. It should’ve felt like any typical day. Just a man and a dog having a moment.

Colton was crouched by the fence, one hand on Bear’s scruffy neck, the other gently scratching behind his ear. His voice was low, almost soothing.

“The sign says to be careful when approaching you. But I walked right up to you, and you didn’t even flinch, bud. You think you're a tough guy, but you’re a total sweetie, aren’t you?”

Bear was looking so intently at Colton.

“You and I are a lot alike, aren’t we, bud?”

Colton leaned closer, inspecting something. “Ah—hold up. That’s a tick. Hang on, I got you.”

He reached for the first-aid kit near the barn wall, moving quietly and efficiently. He was not posing or playing it up.

Just… helping.

“That would have made for a compelling story when the cameras were around yesterday,” I said, walking over to him.

I wanted to stay angry.

He looked up, startled—but not sheepish. Just tired. “Didn’t come for photo ops today.”

Much to Bear’s dismay, Colton stopped petting him and stood up to face me, well, more like tower over me.

His hair is just the right amount of messy—like he’d rolled out of bed looking infuriatingly perfect. And those eyes are still that same impossible blue.

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