Page 33 of A Second Chance

He took the next two steps in quick succession to avoid falling and reached back for Gwen who rushed up behind him.

“I don’t know that he wants to…” Gwen said.

But Avery led him into the house. In the foyer, there were hooks along the wall behind him with coats and bags hanging from them. Past the hooks behind him, another opening that as he walked further in, noticed it led to a split-level staircase. A fireplace sat on the opposite wall of the living room, the mantle was the same river rock that matched the stone on the front porch columns. This place was new construction, maybe built five years ago.

“Jason,” Avery said, “this is my boyfriend, Nick.” An auburn-haired guy about Jason’s size stood from the couch and came around to shake his hand.

“Nick Collins,” he said.

Jason introduced himself and shook hands. Nick had a gun and a detective badge on his hip.

“You’re with the police department,” Jason said. “You work with my buddy, Weasel… I mean Harlan Anderson.”

He lit up. “Hell yeah, I’ve worked with him for like four years. How do you guys know each other?”

“We grew up together.”

“You guys hang out here for a minute, I need to get Gwen’s help…” Avery grabbed Gwen’s arm and dragged her up the steps.

Jason watched Gwen until she disappeared around the corner. He turned back to see Nick studying him.

“Don’t mean to sound paranoid, but do you think they’re talking about me?”

Nick’s smile told him that it was about him.

“That’s what I suspected.”

“Have a seat,” Nick said motioning into the living area. “This might be a while.”

On the television mounted above the fireplace sat a movie on pause. He grimaced. “Sorry for interrupting your evening.”

Nick shrugged it off, taking a seat on the end of the couch. “You did me a favor. It’s one of those stupid romantic comedies.”

Jason gave a knowing smile. Yes, he understood watching a romantic movie hoping to get laid later He chose an overstuffed chair and sat.

“You’ve been gone a while, right? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

“Three years.”

“What brings you back?”

“Family.” It was an honest answer. Unsure of what Nick knew, he was hesitant to reveal anything.

“So, McMillan? You’re Autumn’s brother, right?”

He nodded, realizing he was about to get the third degree by a detective. “What do you wanna know?”

“You were injured,” he said, not a question.

“Yeah. Traumatic brain injury.” He’d leave the PTSD out of it, for now. “I’ve been getting my head back on right ever since.”

“And it’s back on right now?”

“Mostly. Still a few things I don’t remember. And the longer it goes on, the more doubtful I’ll ever get them back.”

“Why did you disappear for six months?”

Shit. How did he know? The fire crackled in the hearth and he might as well be tied up and strung over it, rotisserie style.

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