Page 36 of Her Second Chance

I sigh, trying to swallow the emotions swirling beneath the surface. “If this is all real, I’ll regret letting Brock slip through my fingers.”

She puts her foot on my leg and pushes. “I think you know what you need to do.”

If that’s true, why do I feel like I can’t let Jason get away? He’s the key to something important. I just know he is. The problem is I don’t know what.

Chapter 16

Hannah

After last night’s drunken heart to heart with Grace, I woke up hungover and reeling. I spent all day trying to rectify that while Jason may have brought me back, there’s no way I can be with him. How can I be on the path to winding up alone again? I’m completely blundering my second chance. And what’s worse, I’m hurting a guy who doesn’t deserve it. Brock has been a good friend to me, and what have I done? I’ve tossed him aside at the slightest attention from Jason.

After hiding in my room all day, I decide to venture out to get some food. On my way down in the elevator, I think about how I don’t deserve Brock. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve pushed him away since the beginning. My subconscious knows Brock deserves to live his dream of the NFL superstar married to the famous model. I care for him enough to not want to ruin his future.

The sun is so bright, I reach up to my head and rub my pounding temples. It feels like I’ve been run over. I’m pretty sure I could vomit at any moment. Please don’t let me run into Brock while I’m wearing paint splattered baggy jeans and an oversized hoodie, feeling like death.

Speak of the devil. I stop short when I see the man I was hoping to avoid. There’s no catching a break in this reality, that’s for sure.

Brock paces in front of my dorm, hands in his pocket, head down. My heart flutters at the sight of him. I’m losing this battle of resistance and, after the way Jason spoke to me last night, I no longer care. At some point, I have to decide to choose happiness.

Fuck Hunter.

Fuck Jason.

And fuck eighteen-year-old Hannah.

This time around, I’m choosing myself. Even if it’s just for a moment, I’m getting my happy ending.

As if he can sense me, Brock looks up, meeting my eyes. A broad smile stretches across his face before he scowls. I hate that I hurt him. No matter what happens in the future, this moment is about Brock and me.

“Hey.” His voice is soft, making my heart spasm.

“Are you waiting for me?”

“It’s Tuesday, our standing dinner date.”

I bite my lip. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me,” I admit.

“I always want to see you, Hannah. Even when it hurts.”

I look down at my paint covered clothes and fuzzy slippers. “I need to change.”

He takes my hand in his. “Don’t change on my account. You look more beautiful every time I see you.”

I stare into his eyes, heart hammering in my chest as visions of a life with Brock flash through my head as if they’re memories from actual events. I see him on one knee at the pond across the street from my sorority house, proposing to me while we’re adorned with our caps and gowns. Standing at the front of the arbor in my parent’s backyard, holding hands, saying I do flashes next. I envision him on draft day, grinning when the Lions select him quarterback. I picture our life, and it’s perfect.

It’s real.

I launch myself into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” I cry. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“Oof.” He catches me with his muscular arms, holding me to his chest.

“I don’t want to lose you. Can you ever forgive me?” I may not be ready to admit how I feel about him out loud, but I can’t deny the hold he has on my heart any longer. In some ways it feels like I fell for Brock in an instant, but in others, it’s as if I’ve loved him my entire adult life.

“How can you ask me that? I’m nothing without you.”

He holds me with my head against his sternum. His touch tells me he feels what I do, and it scares the shit out of me. Am I ready to give in to my desires and be with him? What if I ruin everything by being with him? But what if that’s where I’m supposed to be?

I step back, needing to calm the butterflies in my chest, but he keeps his arms around my waist. “Does that mean you’re going to feed me?” I ask, hoping to ease some of the tension and slow my thoughts.

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