Page 4 of A Thousand Second Chances

After everything that’s happened, I don’t blame him for not wanting to face all those painful ghosts. I don’t particularly want to, either. But if this is what my dad needs to help him move on, then so be it.

“Your mom really loved this place,” he says softly as he pulls away. I pretend not to notice him wiping his eyes. “We both did.”

I swallow and nod, my throat suddenly too tight to speak.

“At least you’ll have some of your classmates with you,” my dad continues. “Should make the weekend a bit less lonely. You can take them around and show them the sights.”

Yeah, right. As if I’d have the courage to talk to any of them. Other than Professor Oshkoff, who I had for an American History class last semester, a quick survey of the ferry’s lower level reveals no one else I know.

Still, I want to reassure him. “Sure, Dad,” I say. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

My dad snorts and ruffles my hair despite my half-hearted squawk of protest. “It’s my job to worry about you, son. No matter what else changes, that never will.” He manages a faint, sorrowful grin. “Even once you’ve got a wife and family of your own to look after.”

I shuffle my feet, a familiar pit opening in my stomach. Thankfully, the ferry’s horn bellows an instant later, saving me the need to respond. “Guess that’s my cue. See you in a couple of days.”

“I’ll text you tomorrow to check in.” My dad clasps my shoulder. “I know it won’t be easy, but try to enjoy yourself, okay? And make sure to eat some fudge in your mom’s honor.”

His pained voice is almost too much to bear, and I tug him into one last embrace. “Love you, Dad,” I whisper.

“I love you too, Percy,” he replies. “So, so much.”

We break apart, and I slide my backpack onto my shoulders as I hurry toward the ferry, trying to maintain my composure. I wave over my shoulder but don’t look back. I don’t trust myself to keep it together if I see my dad’s face again.

Professor Oshkoff meets me at the gangplank with a stern expression fixed on her face. “Percy Wentworth, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” I fidget with the straps on my bag. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re lucky you got here when you did. The ferry was about to depart without you. Your father may have funded this school excursion, but the university has placedmein charge of student welfare. I trust I can count on your cooperation from now on?”

I wither beneath the look she gives me. “O-of course, Professor Oshkoff. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She stares at me a few seconds longer, then nods, seeming satisfied. “I should hope not. Come along then. You may sit wherever you like.”

I follow her aboard and settle into the row furthest back, nervously eyeing the other passengers. Besides a family with a pair of young kids, the rest look like students. My gaze lingers on a tall guy wearing a college varsity jacket, his arm draped over a brunette girl’s shoulder. He looks vaguely familiar, though I can’t place from where.

When he shifts, I see the team name stitched on his back and feel like I’ve been slapped. My vision sways from side to side even though the boat isn’t moving yet. That guy had been on the track team with Chris—I’m almost sure of it. And while I don’t think I’d ever personally met him, seeing him here is still enough to drill a hole in my carefully constructed barricades and allow the sealed memories to start leaking out.

A harsh, almost cackling laugh that always made me grin.

The minty scent of his favorite tea tree shampoo.

The warm press of skin against skin, his heartbeat pattering against my chest as I caressed his—

I lurch to my feet and hurry reflexively for the exit, pausing when I realize the metal gangplank I used to board is already gone as workers ready the ferry to depart. Besides, what would I do if I left—call my dad and beg him to come get me? Not a chance. Not when I know how much this trip means to him.

My eyes settle on the stairs leading to the upper deck, and I beeline for them instead, taking the steps two at a time. Maybe some fresh air will clear my head. The wind tugs at my coat and ruffles my hair as I reach the exposed landing. I ignore it, taking a ragged breath. It’s blessedly peaceful up here, the muted chatter of everyone below fading into the background.

Once I’ve reined in my renegade thoughts, I look around at the mostly deserted rows. An older man sits alone at the front while a girl about my age with rainbow dreads lounges a couple rows away.

The girl catches my gaze and grins, waving. After a moment’s hesitation, I give her a half-hearted wave in return. My own poor mental state is no excuse for rudeness. Her grin widens, and she glances down at the seat beside her, rolling her eyes. I follow her gaze down and, for the second time tonight, my world staggers to a halt. I’m pretty sure I forget to breathe.

Maybe escape had been the right instinct after all. It’s not too late to hurl myself overboard and swim to shore. Yet, something—Curiosity? Masochism? Pure, unadulterated fear?—keeps my feet rooted firmly to the deck.

Chris is as beautiful as I remember. He’s lost some of his former muscle definition, and he’s let his dark hair grow out longer than he used to keep it, but his intense hazel eyes are as captivating as ever. So are his high, sharp cheekbones and hisplump, full lips. Memories of kissing those lips flood me, and a blush colors my cheeks despite the frigid air.

My mind feels like it’s trying to swim through molten Mackinac fudge.Chris is here. On the ferry.That means Chris is part of the university trip. After almost two years of painstaking avoidance, we’ll be in the same place at the same time, sleeping right down the hall from each other. It’ll be impossiblenotto run into him.

Beneath my initial shock, another feeling takes me a while to parse.Relief. Even after the disastrous way things ended between us, seeing Chris again is enough to lessen some of the pall hanging over this trip. Maybe this is the universe’s way of forcing us to reconnect. I’m already here to confront a slew of ghosts—what’s one more added to the horde?