Page 22 of First Chance

“No, I mean thank you for letting me stay here.”

“Everyone needs a chance in life. This is yours, so don’t let it go to waste.” He continues lofting stacks of paintings out the door, not even glancing at me after that loaded statement.

He’s right, though, I’ll never get another opportunity like this to get out of my parents’ grip. I have to make it count.

* * *

The next day, when I arrive at my new home, there are paving stones creating a path from my door, along my new parking spot, and all the way to Lochlan’s porch. He’s either being considerate of my less-than-functional footwear, or he’s marking the exact areas within my bounds.

The door is unlocked when I try it, and I open it to a completely different space. All the paintings are gone except the one hanging on the wall. The counters and floors arewiped down, there are fresh sheets on the bed, and the curtains above the kitchen sink are pulled open.

I was here by 10 am; he had to have been working at this all night. It’s perfect.

“Is this all you have?” Lochlan asks from behind me, holding my giant overstuffed suitcase as if it’s a bag of feathers.

“Yes, I told my parents I was moving out, but convinced them to let me leave the majority of my clothes in my old room.”

“How’d you do that?”

“Well, if they want me to be the perfect accessory at all of my brother’s campaign events, then I’ll still need to be able to access my wardrobe. They’d never risk me not showing up, or worse, showing up in something less than perfect.”

“You have a weird family.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been taught from an early age that appearances are everything. Show the perfect face and people will throw money at you.”

He looks at me dumbly, it’s clearly not a lesson he was ever taught, rightly so.

“Wait! That’s it! You should come to these events!”

“No.”

“Yes, Lochlan, it’s perfect. Half of these events are charity-oriented. Everyone networks to gain more support for their cause. Second Chance Sanctuary just needs more investors and more donations. That’s how I can help!” I’m so excited I’m nearly bouncing where I stand. It’s perfect, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before.

“No.”

That’s why.“Can you just think about it?”

“No.”

“Lochlan…” He turns his back on me before I can continue.

“No!” He’s already out the door and walking back to his house.

Okay… Back to square one.

Chapter Eight

Jo

Lochlan’s house feels different now that I live next door. It’s always been an extension of him, but only during work hours. I don’t know how he fills his time on the weekends, or even during the evenings, other than sitting on the porch with a glass of whiskey.

Now that I have more of an opportunity to catch him in his natural habitat, I feel tempted to snoop. The itch to go upstairs nags at me every time I walk through the front door, even though it’s strictly off limits. What doesn’t he want me to see?

The possibilities are endless when you come from a family like mine with a million skeletons in their closets, but even though Lochlan is the one with a notorious reputation, his moral code is titanium.

I tear myself away from the enticing pull of his home and make two loops around the wrap-around porch before I see Curtis off in the distance, pruning some sort of tree.

“Hi, Curtis.” I wave across the yard, and he glances around before throwing his hand up in response. I take that as my invitation.

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