Page 67 of Once Upon A Second Chance
“I said,” I snap, “he didn’t do it.”
She flinches. Just slightly.
And that’s it.
Something in me boils over.
“You think I’d be here smiling like everything’s fine if it wasn’t? You think I’d be treating post-op patients, charting rehab plans, walking my dog, drinking coffee in this exact damn market if I was living in fear? If Ididwant to live in fear don’t you think I would have stayed with Travis?” My voice rises, sharp and trembling.
I hold up the envelope between us like it’s radioactive. “You want to help someone, Audrey? Start with the women in this town who actuallyneedthese resources. Not the ones being dragged through the dirt by jealous ex-wives with a flair for drama.”
Her mouth opens—probably to say something about tone or prayer circles—but I’m alreadywalking away.
My hands are shaking.
I don’t look back.
I drive straight to the clinic, even though it’s closed.
The building is empty, the lights dim. I sit in the parking lot with the engine running and my fists clenched in my lap.
I didn’t realize how hard I’d been holding everything in until it exploded out of me.
The envelope’s still on the passenger seat, unopened.
Mocking.
I should’ve yelled more. Or less. Or just walked away. But something about the way she saidyou’re not alonelike I was a victim and didn’t know it—like I was weak and blind and stupid—lit a fire in me I didn’t know I still had.
Because I’m not ashamed of beingwith Richard.
I’m proud.
And I’m done letting other people rewrite the story just because the truth isn’t dramatic enough for them.
He’s not perfect.
Neither am I.
But I’ve seen the way he’s changed. The way he stays. The way he fights—quietly, patiently, with everything he has—for the people he loves.
And if this town can’t see that?
Then maybe it’s the town that needs fixing.
Not him.
The envelope still sits in the passenger seat, taunting me with its pity and pastel-highlighted tabs, as I pull into my driveway.
I leave it there.
My mind’s still on the Farmer’s Market, on Audrey Wallace and her carefully folded lies. On the way people in this town look at me like I don’t know my own life. Like I’m too stupid or scared to tell right from wrong.
I’m halfway to the front door when I hear it.
“Penny.”
The voice freezes me in place.
