Page 9 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

“There she is,” Dean said. “Seth, Nadir, this is my sister, Laney. And Laney, you already know Hank and Ethan.”

She looked down to where Hank sat at the table. He grinned up at her. “Lookin’ good, Laney.”

She rolled her eyes at his silly green visor. “Hey, Hank.”

Hank Lau had started hanging around the Hargrove house freshman year of high school. Both of his parents were doctors, so he was often there because of their long hours. Hank was a great guy but a total dimwit. Like Zach Galifianakis’s character inThe Hangover.

“Nice to meet you,” she said to Seth and Nadir then finally lifted her gaze to the man slipping off his coat.

With his back to her, she had a moment to compose herself before he turned around.

Then he did, and Laney’s breath caught.

Ethan looked exactly like Ethan but different. While he was still long and lean, he wasn’t a gangly kid anymore, with broad shoulders visible even through his zip-up hoodie. Ethan had been adopted as a baby and looked nothing like his parents with his dark hair and richly tanned skin, but he still had that cowlick. Clearly, he’d grown into himself, even his ears which held a pair of dark tortoiseshell glasses over ever-aware eyes that zeroed in right on her.

“Hi, Laney.”

And it was like she was eighteen all over again. “Hi.”

Dean looped an arm around her, and she took shelter in him, sagging into his side. “What were you doing in there?”

“Grabbing water and a snack.”

Hank opened up the box of poker chips. “You playing?”

“No, I’m going to go out.”

“Are you sure?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, silently asking if she wasreallysure.

Laney nodded, trying to ignore the gaze she sensed on her. But when it became too much, she shifted her eyes to Ethan, finding him watching her. And she immediately blinked away. “You guys have fun. I’m gonna go change, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

She sprinted upstairs two at a time, needing to get out of the house and away from Ethan until she could compose herself. Possibly even act like a proper grown woman. After changing into workout gear, she laced up her sneakers before heading back downstairs, intent on slipping out the back door in the kitchen. With barely a glance to the guys, she raced past them. “Have fun! I’ll see you later!”

But she stopped short in the kitchen. Ethan had his hands around a couple of pint glasses, and she froze, hoping maybe he wouldn’t notice the statue.

Portrait of a shamed woman returned home.

“Hey,” he said, and her shoulders sagged.

“Uh, hi there.” There was a weird air between them—so weird—and Laney winced, trying again. “Hey.”

He assessed her with a teasing raise of his brow that showed he knew how twisted up she was, but Laney didn’t want to consider how it was possible he could still read her so well after all these years. Instead of answering that question or focusing on her sudden social ineptitude, she plastered on a smile. “It’s nice to see you.”

He put the glasses down on the counter and gave her his full attention. “Yeah, how are you? How’ve you been?”

She didn’t know how to respond. Did he mean recently or in the last ten years? Because she was…not great. She contemplated what or how much to say, overanalyzing that normally easy question ofHow’ve you been?as the gerbil spun uselessly on the wheel in her mind.

Then Ethan stepped closer, close enough that she could see the tiny specks of brown, amber, gold, and coffee that made up his irises, and the gerbil fell off. “I heard what happened.”

With that punch to the ovaries, her hackles rose in defense. Her life might have been a Greek tragedy playing out for what felt like the whole world to see—the downside of being a social media maven—but she didn’t want Ethan to be a part of the chorus.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Yeah?”

“Dean told me,” he said, officially leaning into Laney’s space, and she averted her eyes to the floor. “Are you okay?” When she didn’t answer, he whispered, “Hey,” drawing her gaze back up to him, and she instantly regretted it.

He was staring at her exactly like he used to. Like he was trying to crack open her head to take a peek inside.

If he looked hard enough, he’d see ten-year-old memories buried deep inside. Memories of first love, first heartache, first everything. Waiting patiently for an answer, he tilted his head, squinting the tiniest bit, and that familiar move had her saying, “I guess I’m doing okay.”

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