Second Chance

I guess him catching sight of me makes me a happenstance of sorts. I’m just a minor character, but still, it’s more than I ever thought I’d be.

I almost turn my head, tearing my eyes away from the abstract stone sculptures on either side of the elevator when I hear Lydia thank the receptionist. I almost carry on, allowing myself to move through the motions of something I only dared to imagine.

But my eyes catch sight of a man as he enters an elevator. His thin, brown, worn leather jacket is pulled tightly across his broad shoulders as he walks.

My heart stops beating. The chatter and faint sounds turn to white noise. It can’t be him. I tell myself over and over. My lips part and I nearly take a step forward, mostly from disbelief. My hand instantly reaches behind me for Lydia, but I’m not aware if it’s even her. I just need something to grab onto in order to stay grounded.

I recognize him by the way he moves. The way his hand slips into the back pocket of his dark blue jeans and pulls out the necessary card. I know it’s him before he even turns around. The sharp jawline is new, accompanying an older version of the boy I used to know. But his eyes I would know anywhere. The darkness that swirls, the chill in his gaze, yet the heat it brings me. They hold me captive, make me weak, make me crave the way things were before I lost him.

Nathan Hart.

There’s a secret, a dark past between us. Something I’ve tried to ignore and pretend never happened. It’s what tore us apart and even though I’ve accepted what occurred and my part in it, I don’t think I’ll ever be okay.

Time is a bitch. It slows and seems to stay still, refusing to move or to let me respond with anything but disbelief. I wish I hadn’t been looking toward the elevator doors as they start to close, taking him away from me. But I am and as they slowly close, his eyes drift to mine. I’m caught in his stare. Unmoving and trapped by fate as his eyes widen slightly with recognition.

Then time continues, sure that I’ve seen him and he’s seen me, certain that it’s destroyed me in this moment. And I’m released, turning from the doors as quickly as I can.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

But I know I saw him and he saw me.

And that changes everything.

Chapter 2

Nathan

* * *

I don’t think my blood can get any colder. My jaw and every other muscle in my body are tense. This is exactly why I didn’t want to leave Los Angeles. The ghosts follow me everywhere.

The reminders of what I left behind.

But the vision of her was so real.

Her pale lips and the curve of her neck and shoulders. I can practically feel her soft skin against the tips of my fingers. I close my eyes as the elevator dings and everyone in the spacious cart shifts forward, ready to move before the doors have even begun to open.

My body refuses to be anything but tightly wound, not wanting to believe it was her, but unable to deny it.

I’d know her anywhere, even if it has been nearly a decade. The way her doe eyes stared straight into me, unlike anyone else can. Cutting through me and holding me still. It has to be her.

My Hally.

Older and looking back at me with something akin to fear. And I know why. I may have loved her, but she kept pushing and pushing. My hands clench into white-knuckled fists. The people move but I keep my pace even and my stride casual as I exit the elevator. I nearly look around the room, lost and confused as to why I’m here and forgetting who I am. Why I’m heading past rows of stage equipment and lighting.

I barely notice the glances and knowing smiles as I make my way back. Refusing to look flustered or as though I’m off balance in the least. I just need to get to my dressing room. It’s here somewhere and then I can lock everyone out and get a grip.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. Out of everyone in New York, what is she doing here?

“Mr. Hart,” Stevens, the director, says from the back corner of the stage to my right. The backdrop goes all the way up the twelve-foot-high ceilings, although the paint itself stops before the plywood reaches the top of the wall. It’s fitted with everything needed to look as though it’s a living room. It’s all the same here, and I only focus on doing my job.

Well, not here. Not in television shows.

LA is where I’ve been since I left Bailey, a town about two hours away from NYC. Since the day an agent met me outside of prison and told me he’d change my life forever. He was right and I never looked back.