Page 7 of Captivating Mr. Second Chance

“What the fuck?”

The squeaky question got Dean’s attention, and he quirked his head up at Ethan. “Yeah, you all right?”

Ethan readjusted his glasses. No, he wasn’t all right. First his brother and now Laney. “How is Laney? Is she okay?”

Dean shrugged. “Her friend was out there visiting with her, and I don’t know… I couldn’t get much out of her. Apparently they got a pot brownie, but her friend is pregnant, so Laney ate the whole thing herself.”

Ethan bit back a smile, digging his finger into loose grout.

“She packed up all her stuff. Guess she’s moving back here for a bit,” Dean said, gesturing to the pile of wood. “You want to grab that? Gotta take it all out to the trash.” Then he laughed to himself. “Laney’ll be so pissed when she finds out the bathroom is in the middle of a renovation.”

Ethan grinned too. Laney had never been vain, but she did own a lot of products. At least, that’s what he remembered. After grabbing as much as he could carry for the first load, he followed Dean downstairs, right out the front door to a waiting trash bin at the curb. They both wiped off their hands and turned back for more.

“Hey, you let me know if there’s anything I can do for your brother,” Dean said, and Ethan lightly elbowed his best friend, one of the first people he’d met when his family had first moved to West Chester a little over ten years ago.

“Yeah, you too. With Laney, I mean.”

Dean nodded and headed back inside. Ethan followed, but he paused at one of the only photos in the house, a framed picture of Dean and Delaney, in their high school caps and gowns, the same height, same wheat-colored hair, and blue eyes.

Ethan closed his eyes, remembering so much about their senior year of high school, about the summer after, and the girl he’d been in love with.

“Hey, Marrero, what’re you doing?” Dean called from the second floor. “You better not be drinking my beer. You gotta help me with this shit first!”

Ethan shook off his reverie and took the stairs two at a time, saying, “Maybeyouneed an edible.”

3

The thing about going to a small Catholic school is that everybody knows everybody. And everybody knows everybody’s business. And everybody talks about everybody’s business.

From kindergarten through twelfth grade, the same kids are together every day for 180 days a year. That’s a lot of time to spend with Fred Whately, who peed his pants in second grade, and Molly McMann, who was the first girl to get her period in fourth grade. It was horrific because it was all over her yellow uniform gym shorts. Totally mortifying.

Holy Redeemer’s graduating class was about 250 people, and almost all of them were part of a Facebook group, in theory to stay in touch about reunions, but really it was to keep up-to-date with gossip. Unfortunately, Laney was the gossip now.

Back then, she was the class vice president, star athlete, and prom queen. Now, people were DMing her across all her socials with things likeOMG heard about you and Bobby. So sad.OrHe seemed like a douche canoe anyway.Or her personal favorite from a frenemy, whom she hadn’t spoken to in years,Guess not even a hot, rich, Australian chef is good enough for you? LOL!

With a perturbed flick of her thumb, she deleted the app, and—surprise, surprise—the world didn’t end. No sense in reliving the trauma over and over for people she hadn’t spoken to or cared about in years.

Although before she could toss her phone down, it buzzed with a message from Bronte.How are you doing? You want to get together for dinner?

Sweet, sweet Bronte. It almost made Laney want to cry. But Laney didn’t cry. Ever.

She smiled and put on a good show. She’d been doing it for so long, she didn’t know how not to bethe showeven when she was alone.

I’m all right, she texted back, coasting her gaze around her brother’s living room. He’d bought the house last year for cheap, a real fixer-upper, but the living room was completely finished and furnished straight from the Wayfair home page.Bingeing Netflix documentaries.

Naturally, Bronte said.What about dinner? I could come to you.

Allentown was over an hour from West Chester.No, we can meet halfway.

A couple of side-eye emojis appeared withChris has to go to New York next weekend, so it’s no big deal. You pick the place.

Twist my arm.

Bronte sent a GIF of Winnie the Pooh eating and dancing in his seat, and Laney smiled as she put down her phone to stretch out along the couch. Dean wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours, so she could watch TV in peace.

Laney had been back in her hometown for a little over two weeks and hadn’t done much besides eat junk food, watch movies, and engage in an occasional treadmill run at the local Y. But Dean didn’t seem to mind her loafing around.

Her brother, older by six minutes, was really saving her ass. If there was such a thing as twin telekinesis, Dean and Laney didn’t have it, but there was still some special connection. She wouldn’t and couldn’t stay in San Francisco. Not after she’d moved out of the condo that was under Bobby’s name and quit her job at the Magnate Company. There was nothing left for her in the Bay Area, so until she knew what to do next, she had to go somewhere.

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