Romance: The Second Chance - Contemporary Romance (Romance, Contemporary Romance, Suspense Romance Book 1) (9 page)

Six months ago.

              He glared at her. Menacing, hunched over, malice in his eyes.

              “Tucker,” she said, “please, you're scaring me.”

              No answer.

              “Tucker, please. I don't know what's wrong, but we can work it out, just—”

              “Shut up!” He shouted. Terror pierced Abby's soul. She had never seen him like this, never seen anyone like this; it was though he had been taken over by some invisible force. Slowly, she crept backward. He matched her step for step.

              “Tucker.” Only a whimper. “Please.”

              And then she ran.

              Bolting back through kitchen towards the front door, her only other means of escape. Her feet pounded furiously against the wooden floor.
Faster
,
faster
. She could see the door. Tucker was right behind her but she didn’t look back.

              Her fingers were on the handle when he grabbed her. Powerful hands crushed against her neck and arm, spinning her around until they were face-to-face.

              “What are you doing, Tucker?” she cried out. Half begging, half sobbing.

              “
Shut up
. Don't make this any harder than it needs to be!”

              He grabbed her throat and threw her against the opposite wall. The collision sent a shock of searing pain down her spine. Abby tried to yell, but he’d bruised her windpipe, at the very least; all that came out was a pained wheeze.

              Tucker grabbed at her shirt and pulled down forcefully. The collar cut into the back of Abby's neck as the stitching strained.

Abby reached for his eyes, fingers landing just below his right. He yelled, but her struggle only seemed to intensify his anger, and his strength. He grabbed her hand and pinned forcefully against the wall.

              “It's been almost a year of dating, and you
still
haven't put out,” He whispered in her ear, irate.

              “Tucker, please,” she gasped, but even as she forced it out, she knew it would do no good. Tucker was too strong, and there was no use fighting him….

              Behind his head, she saw a picture of her family that her parents had framed and given to her as a present. She always thought it looked stupid, but hung it up anyway. Now it sat inches from her hand, and if she could only just reach it....

             
Abby grabbed hold of picture, throwing it against Tucker’s face with all the strength she could possibly muster. It made an awful noise, shattering into a million pieces. Tucker’s hold loosened.

              She broke free, and sprinted for the back door.

              Tucker, stunned, regained his composure and followed. Blood was pouring from his face, streaming into his eyes; he stumbled as he came after her. But he was still coming. Abby threw a lamp at him, and he stumbled again, grabbing at the curtains to catch himself. He only pulled them down instead, crashing into the floor with a bang. The curtains fell onto a candle on the little table in the living room, and a long tongue of flame flared almost immediately into life.

              Tucker jumped back to his feet and followed Abby to the back door. She was halfway outside when his hands locked in her hair, dragging her back inside, so forcefully that the back of her head slammed into the wall behind the door.

              A bright flash exploded in front of her eyes.

              And then darkness.

             
E
li woke feeling oddly at peace. Lighter, even. As though a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

              He’d never meant to tell anyone what had really happened, but with her the truth had just come pouring out. As though something in him recognized, instinctively, that she was safe. And able to share a burden that had finally become too great to bear alone. He needed to see her again. He couldn't get her face out of his head. Last night had been like a dream, and he still didn’t want to wake up.

              Hopefully, he hadn't scared her
too
much. His past was enough to cause
him
to stammer; it was a lot to take it, especially taken with the sudden turn toward romance. He wanted to see her again and explain. Wanted to know what she
thought, and prayed she’d felt the same pull he had.

              But it would have to wait. At least for a day. Today he had another, urgent business—business that was about three years overdue.

~*~

              Eli eased his Ford to a stop in front of the house, the worn brakes screeching loudly with the effort. The home was small, only a single story, with two front windows and drawn curtains. The door sat directly in the middle of the box shaped house, brown paint peeling from the wood.

              The visit was something he wasn't sure he could do, but it something that needed to be done. Not a day had gone by since that night that he hadn't thought about doing this. But he’d never had the courage to follow through. He hadn’t known what to say, or how they would respond, or even what the ramifications would be in the town. He might be arrested. Everyone thought he was a hero—just wait until they found out he was a suicidal drunk who’d nearly killed three innocent people.

“This is it,” he murmured. And then a sudden rush of doubt washed over him, and he nearly started the car and left again. Nearly went home and pretended he’d never come, that this had never happened, the way he’d done so many times before.

             
No,
he thought.
I need to face this. I have to tell the truth. They deserve it. And so do I.

             
It was windy outside the safety of the truck, and cold. Clouds blocked both the light and the heat of the sun.

              He slipped his hands into his pockets, and walked up to the house. Completely unsure what to expect next.

              He rang the doorbell, but there was no answer. He then tried knocking on the door, the hollow thud of it filling his ears.
I guess they're not home.
Relief flooded him, and he turned to leave.
Well, I tried
.

              Just as he’d stepped off the front step, turning back towards the road, he heard a deadbolt thud back in the door. The door creaked and eased slowly open. Eli turned. There was a familiar face in the dimly lit doorway, and they stood there for a moment, Eli and the man, staring at each other. Silent.

              “You just gonna stand there?” the man asked. He had a deep, cracking voice. “Come inside.” He turned away, retreating into the house, and Eli hastily followed him in.

              Though the home's exterior was run-down and abandoned-looking, the interior was nothing of the sort. Fresh bright paint covered the walls, and beautiful pictures hung masterfully along it's barren space.

              The floors were wooden, but soon transitioned into carpeting as Eli made his way into the living room. There was a large sofa, a recliner, and a coffee table with a range of board games stacked beneath it. But no TV. Not even a radio.

              The man motioned for Eli to take a seat on the sofa, and Eli obliged. His host plunked on the easy chair, and reclined back as he reached for a coffee mug placed on a nightstand to it's left.

              The man looked rugged. He sported a greying, untamed beard, and a lumberjack’s plaid shirt and jeans. He looked strong. Brazen. Completely unfazed by Eli's presence, and certainly in no rush to make him feel comfortable.

              Eli laced his trembling fingers together in his lap. His left foot bounced up and down, shaking the loose glass in the coffee table he’d wedged his knees under.

              The man looked at Eli. “So why are you here?”

              Eli opened his mouth, closed it. He knew why he’d come, but how to say it? How to explain what really happened? How could he even attempt to ask for forgiveness—both for his actions, and his continuous lies. Outside, a car door slammed, and a commotion of voices approached the door.

              “Who’s car is that?” Eli heard. A young boy’s voice. Billy.

              “My wife and son,” the man said, still looking at Eli. “Would you like to meet them?”

              Eli nodded.

              As the two made their way into the living room, their faces quickly shifted from happiness to confusion once they saw Eli sitting on their couch.

              “Maggie, Billy, this is the Eli. He has come to our home unannounced, but I’d like you to treat him with the same respect we would show anyone else.”

              Billy nodded. Maggie's expression didn’t change.

             
When Billy walked up to Eli, Eli smiled. The boy was probably eight or nine now. Eli offered up a hand for a hi-five, and after a moment a huge grin crept over the boys face and he unloaded the mightiest strike he could manage. Though it barely stung, Eli snatched his palm away, screwing his face up in pretended pain. The boy laughed, looking back at his parents for recognition, then struck Eli's hand again. This time Eli reacted even more extremely, and the boy fell to the floor in hysterics.

              The joyful noise cut the tension in the room, and the adults chuckled along with him. Once Billy caught his breathe, he wound up for another strike.

              “That's enough Billy,” his father said. The boy frowned. “Go into your room and play, your mother and I need to discuss some grown up things with Mr. Eli here.”

              Billy’s head dropped and his shoulders slumped. Obviously feeling saddened and left out.

              “Hey Billy!” Eli called. The boy looked back. “We'll play after, okay? Or if that doesn't work, I'll come back another time and we can hang out. Sound good?”

              A grin spread over the boy’s face, and he nodded, then ran off towards his room.

              “That was kind of you, but you didn’t have to say that,” the women said gently.

              She made her way towards the empty chair across from Eli, heavily favoring her right leg. Watching her, guilt sank heavily in Eli's stomach.

              “No, I love kids. And he seems great.” He wasn't lying, but it was hard to say it and still smile.

              She smiled, then turned toward her husband.

“Don't do that Maggie,” the man said, “I don't know anything. He just got here; he hasn’t said anything yet.” His unreadable expression and tone only added to Eli’s uneasiness.

              “I'm truly sorry for barging in on you both like this,” Eli broke in, “it's just that... well there really never would have been a
good
time for what I want to say.” Both of them looked up, and Eli knew he had their full attention, now. He took a deep breath. “This will be difficult for you both to hear, but please wait till I’m finished before you say anything. I am not the man you think I am... I am not a hero.”

              The women opened her mouth, but quickly closed it again. Eli went on. “I’m sorry I never visited you, or even formally introduced myself to you. It’s not… I’m not stuck up, and I don’t hate people—I’m just a coward. I was terrified that if I faced you, I’d—I'd feel compelled to tell you the truth. It was selfish and stupid of me, and I’m really sorry. See, I’m—they probably told you I was the one that saved you, but I’m also the drunk driver that ran you off the road. I'm the one who nearly killed you and your son.”

              Maggie’s hand came up over her mouth, but the man made no movement. Eli couldn’t read him at all.

              “I was angry, and grieving, and—and I made an really stupid decision. And then afterward, I let everyone believe a lie, and I’ve regretted it every day since. But last night I finally… told someone the truth, and the
relief
I felt afterward…. I’d been looking to find that for the past three years. But now I know I have to come clean with everyone. Starting with you. I’m going to the police afterward, and turning myself in, but I wanted you to hear it first, so I could apologize everything. I don't expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. And honestly, I don't even know if I will be able to forgive myself. I’ve—every day since I’ve—I’ve hated what I did every day of my life, hated myself for doing it, do you understand that? I just pray the three of you will be able to move on one day, and heal.” Finished, exhausted, Eli dropped his head into his hands.

              After a moment he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to find the man standing before him. He helped Eli to his feet, and Eli braced himself for a punch, or—whatever happened next.

              The man wrapped his arms around Eli, and squeezed him tightly.

              Eli couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. No matter how many times he’d run though his head, it had never turned out like this. He had no idea what was going through the man's head, but the emotion behind the gesture couldn’t be faked. The love Eli was receiving now was genuine. Slowly, he lifted his arms and squeezed back, and the tears started to flow once again, just as they had the night before, with Abby.

The man embraced him for a long time, and when he pulled away he left his hands on Eli’s shoulders. He pushed his face in close, forcing Eli to give him his complete and utter attention. In a deep, cracking voice, he said, “I forgive you,” and pulled him back into a loving embrace.

              Maggie stood up, and joined them. Placing her hands on both men’s shoulders, she attempted to stem her flow of tears.

              “I've known it was you since the day it happened,” the man said quietly. “Even in that rain, I saw see your face before we went over. At first, I was furious, seeing you take getting all that glory in the papers and TV. Everyone calling you a hero. If you’d come here a month after it happened I probably would have decked you, to be honest. But then I started witnessing the beauty
around
me, every day, in my family. We are alive today because of
you
, and nothing else matters. You hear me? Nothing.”

              The man pulled back to face Eli once again. Eli's eyes swollen with tears, too overwhelmed by the man's words to respond.

              “You don't tell the police anything, alright?” He said firmly. “Don't go and throw your life away. As far as I can tell, you've already paid an awfully steep price these past years, and if I had a badge I think I'd let you off with a warning. You don’t need to pay for something that's already been paid in full. You made a mistake, but you fixed it. You lied, but you apologized too, and from what I’ve seen you’ve done a lot of good in the community since. And if you can do that, then how couldn’t we do the same and forgiving you? That's not the way I was raised.”

              “But—”

              “But nothing. You promise me right here. Swear to me that this will stay between us. Swear.”

              Eli couldn't believe this man’s generosity. He didn't feel worthy of his grace, nor his sympathy.

              “Swear it,” the man urged.

              “I swear, Sir” Eli said, and then fell back into the man’s arms.

              “Alright then,” His voice softened, and he and his wife comforted him as he sobbed in their arms “and call me John”.