Second Chances by Abbie Williams Page A

you every second and I felt guilty as hell.”
    â€œEvery second?” he teased. I peeked over at him to see his lips curve into a self-satisfied grin. “I thought so, even if you totally ignored me all the time. But I sensed how you felt. You watched me when you thought I couldn’t tell.”
    I squeaked in indignation, even knowing what he said was true. I admitted, “I did. I couldn’t stop myself, and it was like being tortured.”
    â€œThat night I saw you and Jillian at Eddie’s, I pretended I just noticed the golf cart. But I was practically stalking you. That was the first night I thought there might actually be hope. The way you looked at me when I left…”
    I felt my cheeks heating at his words. “I would have jumped in your arms if you’d even hinted,” I told him.
    â€œAnd then at Trout Days, that was the first time I touched you.”
    â€œYou caught my elbow,” I remembered.
    â€œI wanted to kiss you so bad when you turned around,” he said. “And then to watch you dancing all night. Talk about torture.”
    â€œYou found me walking the next night,” I said, my heart speeding up just remembering.
    â€œI couldn’t believe it,” he said, again sending a grin my way. “I was dying to find any excuse to get you alone, and there you were, just walking along the side of the road. I was like, This is it, this is what you’ve been waiting for .”
    â€œReally?” I thrilled at the thought. “It took all of my willpower not to climb all over you when I got in the truck. And then you kissed me, under the fireworks.”
    â€œIt was so right,” he said, low and sweet. “I knew I wanted you, but I had no idea how much until I kissed you.” His hand tightened around my thigh and I cupped mine around it, curling my fingers through his. “Joelle, I’m so in love with you. I wasn’t expecting to fall in love.”
    â€œBlythe,” I whispered. “Oh, Blythe. God, I love you.” I closed my eyes, blocking out the sunny, late afternoon that stretched before the windshield of the truck.
    â€œBaby,” he said, and his voice was pained. “I want to come back with you to Landon so bad. I love it there.”
    â€œBut?” I asked, almost afraid to speak the word, my voice soft.
    â€œI don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Or Wednesday…whenever I go before a judge. I might get sent back to jail. I don’t know. Fuck, I just don’t know.”
    I tightened my grip on his hand and said, sincerely, “Blythe, I will wait for you no matter how long it takes. I want you to know that. I don’t care that you’ve been to jail. Sweetheart, your mom…” I trailed off, my heart thudding hard against my breastbone. I felt a trickle of sweat skim between my breasts that had nothing to do with the hot, dusty afternoon. “She told me…she told me about…”
    I saw his jaw tighten and he closed his eyes for a moment. A fraction of a second later he opened them, accelerated a little, and drove us out of town. I sat in tense silence, though he didn’t seem angry; rather, on a mission. He took a side road after a few miles, heading west. Less than a mile later the road had wound up the side of a small bluff, which was lined with cottonwood trees. At the top of this he pulled into a clearing and parked; we had a bird’s eye view of Brandt in the distance, its old-fashioned silver water tower glinting in the slanting sun. We were utterly alone and I was still clinging to Blythe’s hand. He rubbed his thumb gently over my palm for a moment.
    At last he asked, “Mom told you about Julianne?”
    It hurt me to hear the suppressed pain in his voice. I turned to face him, though his gaze was still directed out the window. I nodded.
    â€œI suppose I should hate her, but I don’t,” he said, running his free hand through his