Page 46 of Once Upon A Second Chance
It's easy. It's fun.
And then Penny's phone chimes.
The mood shatters like dropped glass.
She digs it out of her bag, her smile fading as she reads the screen. "It's Lena."
I don't ask. Don't need to.
Lena:URGENT. Rebecca was at the clinic asking about you. Also, Bijou ate your azaleas??
Penny groans, dropping her head back against the seat. "And… we're back."
The "Welcome to Mount Juliet" sign appears around the next bend, its cheerful lettering at odds with the sudden tension in the cab.
I reach across the console, lacing our fingers together again. Her grip is tight, like she's bracing for impact.
"Rules still apply," I remind her softly.
She exhales, squeezing back. "Until month three."
The first houses appear on the horizon, then the gas station, then the clinic.
With every mile, the weekend feels further away, slipping through our fingers like smoke.
But when I pull up to her bungalow and cut the engine, Penny doesn't immediately move to leave. She sits there, staring at her front door like it's a battlefield.
Then she turns to me, her expression equal parts determination and fear.
"Whatever happens," she says, "we handle it together. Okay?"
I bring our joined hands to my lips, pressing a kiss to herknuckles. "Together."
It's a promise. A vow.
I'll burn the whole damn town down before I break it.
The truck idles at the curb outside Penny's place, the engine's low rumble the only sound between us.
Through the windshield, I watch Mrs. Delaney pretend to water her hydrangeas while blatantly staring in our direction. Bijou dances excited circles on the porch, her tiny paws skittering across the wooden planks.
Penny hasn't moved.
Her fingers remain laced with mine on the center console, her grip tightening every time she glances down at her phone screen. Lena's text glares back at us:
Lena:Rebecca showed the clinic staff some legal docs about a malpractice case? WTF is she talking about?
The air leaves my lungs in a slow, controlled exhale. I'd known this would come eventually—just not like this.
Not here. Not now, when we're still warm from the weekend, when Penny's hair still smells like the cedar-scented shampoo from the cabin.
Penny turns to me, her green eyes searching mine. "Richard?"
I kill the engine. The silence that follows is deafening.
Without speaking, we gather Penny’s things and walk into the house.
Her kitchen smells like lemon cleaner and the faint herbal scent of the basil plant on the windowsill.
