Page 117 of Once Upon A Second Chance
“That’s still a choice,” I say, softer now. “One that lasted years.”
He nods.
“I thought if I just stayed in the house, kept things quiet, took things one day at a time, that the pain would dull on its own. But it didn’t.” He looks down at his hands. “Hearing about the baby… I realized I want to be part of something again—part of our family again. Not just float around in the past.”
Jesse shifts beside him, still clearly reeling from the turn this took.
“I thought you’d back me up,” Jesse mutters to Dad.
“I was going to,” Dad admits. “But you told me what Penny said to you. And I see how she handles herself. She’s a strong woman now who doesn’t need someone to fight her battles. What she needs is people who will standwithher.”
He turns back to me. “I want to try. If you’ll let me.”
I stare at him.
He’s still the man who missed holidays, who left me to be the strong one, who thought his guilt exempted him from showing up. But now he’s sitting across from me, finally using his voice for something more than excuses. And thatmatters—even if it doesn’t erase anything.
“You want to move to Mount Juliet?” I ask carefully.
“Well, I’m looking at some properties,” he says. “Nothing final yet. I just want to be nearby, if you’re open to it. And, even if I stay in the Nashville house, it’s only twenty miles down the road.”
I nod slowly. “Okay. But you’ve got work to do.”
His shoulders ease, and he nods with something that might be relief—or maybe just resolve.
Jesse doesn’t speak, but his walls are thinner now. I can see it in his posture. Something got through. Finally.
We sit there for a while longer, nursing drinks and not saying much, and it’s not everything.
But it’s more than we’ve had in a long time.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Richard
The tab on my laptop reads:“Unique engagement rings – handmade, ethical stones.”
It’s the fourth one I’ve opened tonight, and I’m still no closer to deciding than I was an hour ago. Gold feels too flashy. Platinum too cold. The halo settings are too busy. The minimalist ones feel a little sterile.
I’m not looking for perfect. I’m looking forher.
Something quiet but striking. Warm. Real. Something that catches light in unexpected ways but doesn’t need to scream to be noticed.
My fingers hover over the track pad as I scroll slowly, trying to picture Penny’s hands—not the hands in ring ads, but her hands.
The ones that rebuild shoulder joints and knead sore muscles and once pulled me down by the collar of my shirt to kiss me breathless after a ten-hour shift. I don’t want something that dazzles. I want something that fits into her life, not just her finger.
The front door opens with a soft click.
I close the laptop gently—not slamming it shut like I’m doing something wrong, but careful enough to keep it a secret a little longer.
“Hey,” I call out. “You home?”
Her footsteps are quiet. Then she appears in the doorway to the living room, still in the same clothes from this morning but now with a weariness in her shoulders that says today demanded more than it gave.
“Hey,” she says, dropping her keys into the bowl by the door. “Coffee with Jesse turned into a surprise visit from my father.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
