Once More Chance (Chance #2; Rosemary Beach #8) (2 page)

And Maryann knew what it felt like to be a mother. She understood the need in me to protect this baby. She had held my hand when they confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. Her tears hadn’t
been of sorrow but of joy. She had been happy for me because I was happy. That evening was the first time I had ever heard Mase fight with his mother. Maryann had stood by me while I explained that
I wasn’t having an abortion. Mase had been furious. He’d ended up begging me to reconsider.

I knew that Grant would be worse. Telling myself that he had forgotten me or that he didn’t care was pointless. I knew better. He still called me every day and left a message. He wanted
forgiveness and was possibly ready to take that chance of loving someone with my condition. But now the risk was so much greater. In the end, I didn’t think he would have enough strength to
stick it out. I couldn’t forget the words he’d said to me the last time I’d seen him. Our chance was over.

“You feeling OK?” Mase’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I covered my eyes from the sun and squinted up at him. He was dressed in his faded jeans and a blue plaid shirt. A
fine layer of dust covered him from his morning activities, and the cowboy hat on his head was tilted back as he wiped the sweat on his forehead with a towel from his back pocket.

“I’m fine. Just lost in my thoughts,” I explained.

He held out his hand to me. “Come on, let’s go eat something. Momma will have lunch on the table by now.” Maryann cooked a full meal for lunch every day. She said her guys
needed it to keep going hard outside. Mase’s stepfather was still using a walking stick after taking a tumble off his tractor, even though he’d already gotten his cast removed. Mase had
been picking up his stepfather’s slack for a while now, and he seemed relieved that he was back out working. His stepfather raised beef cattle, and his work was grueling. Mase was only used
to training a few horses.

I slipped my hand into my brother’s and let him pull me up. I wouldn’t admit to him that I was weak from my loss of appetite. I wasn’t nauseated from the pregnancy, but I
missed Grant. Right now, I wanted him. I wanted to share this with him. To see him smile and hear him laugh. I wanted more than he could give me.

“You haven’t smiled in days,” Mase said, letting go of my hand.

I dusted off my bottom and managed a shrug. “I’m not going to lie to you. I miss him. I love him, Mase. I admitted that to you already.”

Mase fell into step beside me as we walked toward his parents’ large white farm house with its wraparound porch and flowers in the window boxes. Mase had grown up with the perfect life.
The kind that kids like me don’t believe in unless they’ve seen it. I wanted to give that kind of life to my child.

“Answer his call tonight instead of sending it to voice mail. He wants to hear your voice. At least give him that. It might make you feel better,” Mase said. This wasn’t the
first time he’d urged me to answer Grant’s calls. I hadn’t told Mase why I’d left. I couldn’t stand the idea of Mase hating Grant. He wouldn’t understand why
Grant had reacted the way he had. And he’d never forgive him. They would be family one day. This baby would make them family.

And if I wasn’t around . . .

“You’re stubborn, Harlow Manning. You know that?” He nudged my shoulder with his arm.

“I’ll answer him when it’s time. It just isn’t time yet.”

Mase let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re carrying his baby. He needs to know that. This ain’t right, what you’re doing.”

I brushed the wisps of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail holder out of my face. He wouldn’t understand why I couldn’t tell Grant. I was tired of having this conversation with
him.

“No one will persuade me to give up my baby. I will not choose myself over this child. I can’t. I won’t. I just . . . don’t ask me to again, just understand that I have
to do this my way.”

Mase tensed beside me. Any reminder that I was taking a gamble with my life upset him. But it was my life to choose. I didn’t push him to agree. We walked in silence to the house.

Maryann stood over the stove in a blue and white polka-dotted apron, which I knew was monogrammed on the front. It had been a gift from me when I was seventeen. When the screen door slammed
behind us, Maryann glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “Just about ready. Set the table for me, will you?” she said, then turned back to the stove.

Mase went to the silverware drawer, and I went for the plates. This had become a regular routine. After putting down four place settings, I went to get the mason jars and fill them with ice and
sweet tea.

“Five places today. Major will be here for lunch. He called this morning to let me know he was on his way into town. Dad agreed to hire him for the next six months. He needs a break from
the drama at home, and we need another strong pair of arms around here.”

From what I remembered of Major, he was a bully. A scrawny, mean bully. But then, I hadn’t seen Mase’s cousin since he was ten, so things could have changed. He should be taller than
four and a half feet and have his braces off by now.

“Uncle Chap still planning on divorcing this one?” Mase asked as concern wrinkled his brow. We never talked about his cousin, mostly because Major had lived in a different country
every time Mase had mentioned him. Uncle Chap was a Marine, and he was hard-core. He also made it his goal in life to marry as many young, beautiful women as he could. Major always had a new mom.
That much I remembered.

Maryann sighed and set the biscuits on the table. “The thing is, this time it isn’t about some pretty young thing wanting a sugar daddy. Hillary also wanted Major, and apparently,
she got him. Major made a mistake, and, well, Chap isn’t very happy with his wife or his son. Major can’t go home and face his dad now, and he doesn’t want to go back to college.
He’s confused and unhappy.”

Mase set the pitcher of tea on the table and swung a surprised expression toward me. He hadn’t known this bit of information. Interesting. “You mean . . . Major tapped his
stepmom?”

“Don’t say
tapped
,” Maryann said as she frowned at her son. “And yes, he did. But Hillary was only four years older than Major. What did Chap expect? He’s an
old man, and he married a young girl, then put her in a house with his beautiful son while he went off to work all the time.”

Mase let out a low whistle and then chuckled. “Major tapped his stepmom,” he said again.

“That’s enough. He will be here any minute, and I know he’s embarrassed about all this. Be nice. Ask him about college or what he wants to do. Just don’t talk about
Hillary or his dad.”

I was trying hard not to look completely disturbed by this. I couldn’t picture Major as beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. But then, all I knew was the ten-year-old Major, not
the twenty-one-year-old who could attract a woman who shouldn’t want him.

A swift knock on the door got our attention, and all eyes in the kitchen turned to the door as the grown-up version of Major Colt walked into the room.

His green eyes were almost emerald. I was surprised I hadn’t remembered that. An unsure smile touched his face as he looked at his aunt and then at Mase. I took a quick glance at the rest
of him. He had to be at least six-four now, and every inch of him was well built. Thick, corded arms that reminded me a lot of Mase’s were showcased in the short sleeves of his gray
T-shirt.

“So you slept with your stepmom.” Those were the first words to break the silence. Of course, they came from Mase.

“Mase Colt-Manning, I am going to tan your hide,” Maryann said in a stern voice, quickly wiping her hands on her apron and making her way to Major. The small smile that tugged at
Major’s lips as he looked at Mase made me think maybe he wasn’t going to get as upset as Maryann thought he was. It wasn’t like he was a kid who was taken advantage of. He was
every bit a man.

He turned to look at Maryann but stopped when his eyes found me. He paused, then began grinning. A real smile this time. He recognized me. Not surprising, since my face had been all over the
media the past two months.

“Well, if it ain’t Little Miss Gone Missing,” Major said. “You’re even prettier than the photos they keep showing of you on TV.”

“Easy,” Mase said, and took a step to stand between Major and me. “I realize you’re Casanova now, but she ain’t available for romancing. I’m sure Uncle Chap
will have a new wife soon, and you can see how long it takes to get in
her
pants.”

“Enough!” Maryann said, slapping Mase on the arm like a naughty child before pulling Major into a hug. “We’re thrilled you’re here. Ignore your cousin’s
attempt at humor. He has no filter, and I apologize for that.”

Major returned her hug and smirked at Mase over her head, which didn’t even reach his shoulder. “Thanks, Aunt Maryann. I won’t let him get to me. I can handle it, I
swear.”

“Unbelievable. He sleeps with his old man’s wife, and you’re taking up for him and babying him like he’s the victim.” Mase said, but there was no resentment in his
tone. He was smiling as he said it.

The door opened again, and Mase’s stepfather stepped inside. Even with a limp, he was still a looming presence. Height was definitely a Colt trait. “Glad you’re here,
boy,” he said to Major. “But I’m hungry, so you’re gonna have to let go of my wife so she can feed me.”

Major laughed this time, a loud, full laugh that made us all smile.

“M
essage fifty-five. Each day, I think this will be the last day I get your voice mail. That you’ll eventually answer me. I just want
to hear your voice and know you’re safe and happy. I want you happy. I’m fucking miserable. I’m losing sleep. You’re all I think about. I miss you, baby. I miss you so bad.
So damn bad. Just knowing you’re safe and healthy would help. Rush assures me you’re fine, but I need to hear it from you. Anything . . . I’ll do anything. Just talk to
me.”

BEEP

I hated that sound. It mocked my pain and put an end to the few seconds when I felt like I had Harlow’s ear. But she probably wasn’t listening to my messages, anyway. I was pretty
damn sure she would have called me by now if she had heard even one of my desperate voice mails. She wouldn’t be able to ignore me.

Rush had told me she wasn’t at Mase’s mother’s house in Texas, but I was about ready to visit Mase and find out what he knew. I didn’t care about the extra security
I’d been warned about. I would go to fucking jail if it meant I could get some answers. I would give anything to know where Harlow was.

My phone rang, and for a second, my heart stopped. For a split second, I let myself hope it was Harlow. Even though, deep down, I knew it couldn’t be her. Glancing down at the phone, I saw
Rush’s name lighting up the screen. He wasn’t Harlow, but he was the only connection I had to her right now.

“What?” I said into the phone as I stared up at the ceiling.

“Not sure why I call your grumpy ass anymore,” Rush replied.

I wasn’t sure, either. But if he called, I would answer. Even if he didn’t know where Harlow was, he was the only one I could bring myself to talk to about this. I felt he
understood. He might be the only person who understood just how torn-up I was.

“It’s late,” I told him.

“It’s not that late. Blaire just went upstairs to rock Nate to sleep.”

Rush had his happy little life now. A wife he worshipped. A son he adored. I was happy he had everything he ever wanted. Neither one of us had known what a normal, healthy family was like. Now
he did. Now he had that. But me . . . maybe I could have when Harlow was still here. Maybe.

“I know you’re not in the mood to talk, but I’m just calling to check on you. Blaire mentioned that I needed to call you and see how you were before she went
upstairs.”

Apparently, Blaire really had forgiven me. I wished I could tell Rush I was fine. That I could breathe normally and my chest didn’t continually ache. That I didn’t feel lost and
helpless. But I couldn’t tell him that. The truth was, I needed Harlow.

“Were you OK when Blaire left you?” I asked him, knowing the answer already. I had been there. I had forced him to get out of the house.

“No,” he replied. “You know I was a complete mess.”

“Yeah,” was my only response. At that point, I hadn’t understood him. But now it all made sense. He had been ripped in two, and he was expected to live each day like everything
was normal, clinging to the hope she’d come back to him. “I’m sorry for making you leave your house and get out back then. I didn’t get it.”

Rush let out a low, hard chuckle. “It might have helped me some. Don’t apologize. Sitting around thinking about it would have fucked me up worse. I didn’t have a job to lose
myself in every day like you do.”

“Have you talked to her?” I asked, unable to help myself. I needed something. Anything.

“She’s good. She’s safe. She asked how you were. I told her you looked like shit and you weren’t doing so great.”

If she was listening to my voice mails, she would know that already. I wasn’t holding anything back when I called her. I was wide open with her, baring my soul. “Will she ever
forgive me?” I asked, closing my eyes, afraid of his answer.

“She already has. She just isn’t ready to open up again yet. She’s dealing with a lot right now. Her mother and Kiro, then this . . . just give her more time.”

If she’d forgiven me, why wasn’t she listening to my voice mails? Why wasn’t she at least answering when I called? “Tell her I just want to hear her voice. She
doesn’t have to talk to me long—just a minute. I want to tell her I love her. I want to tell her I’m sorry. I . . . just need to tell her I need her.”

Rush was silent a moment. Anyone else would have made fun of how vulnerable I had become. Not him. “I’ll tell her. Get some sleep. Call me and check in some. Blaire
worries.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. We said our good-byes, and I dropped the phone to my chest and closed my eyes, letting images of Harlow fill my thoughts. They were all I had now.

“Y
our phone’s ringing,” Mase said as he walked outside toward me with my phone in his outstretched hand. I was on the swing that
had been hanging here in the yard since we were kids, alone with my thoughts.