Page 8 of A Thousand Second Chances

She must see something on my face because her smile dims. “I miss her, too,” she says softly. “She was the best friend I ever had and one of the kindest people I knew. God took her from us too soon.”

I nod again. I don’t know whether I blame God, the universe, or pure bad luck for her diagnosis, but we can both agree on the unfairness of the outcome. My mom deserved a better hand than she got dealt. All of us did.

A pained silence stretches between us. When I can’t take it anymore, I step back and fidget with the paper plate in my hands. “I should, um, get some food and go pick out my room. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course. Don’t be a stranger this weekend! It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit. I’d love to catch up when you’ve got a spare moment—hear how you and Robert are hanging in there.”

“Sure, that’d be great,” I say. Inwardly, however, I cringe. Carol’s practically family but being here threatens to dredge up more painful ghosts than I can count. I don’t know if I’d survive an extended trip down memory lane with her.

Then again, isn’t that what this weekend is supposed to be about—confronting and embracing the past? Maybe some time spent reminiscing with Carol is exactly what I need so I can learn to cherish the good memories rather than allow them to be tainted by the bad.

Carol starts to move away, then pauses to scan the room with a frown. “Owen’s around here somewhere. I told him you’d be here, but that boy’s been making himself scarce more and more these days. I’m sure he’d love to see ya tomorrow, though.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing him, too.”

I find I mean it. Though Owen’s four years younger than me, we used to be thick as thieves. After so many summers visiting with my parents, I’d come to think of him as the little brother I’d never had, and the specter of my mom won’t hang over our conversation the way it would with Carol. My eyes flick to Chris as he slips out of the room with a plate stacked with pizza. Plus, it’d be nice to reconnect with a friend from my past who actuallywantsto see me.

Carol wishes me good night and bustles off to see to one of the hundred chores that must accompany running an inn, especially with a pack of college kids in house. I grab a couple slices ofsome sort of veggie pizza from the picked-over offerings and confer with Oshkoff to snag the keys to my room.

Apparently, Carol had reserved Room 2 for me—the same one I always used to stay in over the summer. The symmetry leaves a heavy pit in my stomach. I consider asking to swap for another, but I don’t want to hurt Carol’s feelings. Besides, switching rooms feels like giving up.

I’m about halfway up the stairs when I notice Chris and Quinn sitting on a couch in a room off to the side. They’re chatting animatedly, Chris gesturing with one hand while chomping on pizza with the other. I should turn around and keep walking, but I hesitate. In that moment, the ache of missing him is nearly overwhelming. He feels so impossibly far away, the gulf between us too wide to ever be bridged.

As if he senses my gaze on him, Chris glances up, his eyes momentarily locking on mine. I feel the sneer curling his lips like a gut punch. He pointedly turns away, dismissing me as beneath his notice, and I leap up the remaining stairs two at a time, my face burning. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, but somehow this slight stings more than his earlier anger. The only thing worse than Chris’ hatred would be his cold indifference—knowing that our shared history means nothing to him when it still meanseverythingto me.

Safely locked away in my room, I scarf down my pizza, switch to my pajamas, and brush my teeth before sliding into bed. It’s still early, not even quite nine yet, but I amsoready to put this terrible day behind me.

Of course, my brain has other ideas.

After tossing and turning for a while, I grab my laptop and set it up on the small table in the room’s corner. The password for the Wi-Fi hasn’t changed, and within minutes, I’m signed into RuneWorld Online and directing my character toward adungeon, determined to distract myself until I’m exhausted enough to finally fall asleep.

five

Chris

My eyes remain trainedon the stairs long after Percy’s vanished up them as if I can still sense his lingering presence there.

I’d hardly been able to tear my eyes away from him all night, sneaking glimpses during the ferry ride and the cold trek to the Royal Lilac Inn. Quinn spent the entire walk gushing over the quaint town, pointing out all the places she wanted to visit tomorrow. I’d tried to smile and nod in all the right places, but my heart hadn’t been in it. No…that had been with the guy trailing behind us, clearly wishing as hard as I was to be anywhere else but here.

I should ignore him—that had been my plan after he surprised me on the ferry. I’d meant it when I’d told him to leave me the hell alone. After the way he’d stomped all over my feelings freshman year, I wanted nothing to do with him. But that brief flash of hurt on his face before he’d fled to his room had lodged in my skull. He was like an irritating itch I just couldn’t shake.

“This place is pretty sweet,” Quinn remarks, dragging me back to the present.

I give a noncommittal grunt as I glance around the parlor we’d chosen to eat in. Two plush couches bracket a narrow glass table while a hanging lamp illuminates worn hardwood floors and a collection of photos on the walls showcasing what I assume to be Mackinac Island.

“It’s fine, I guess. Kinda reminds me of a cross between one of those ritzy hotels you see in movies and a cozy cabin in the woods. You know, the sort people visit when they want to be murdered.”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “You and your horror stories. Mackinac is way too cute to be sinister.”

I lower my voice dramatically. “That’s what theywantyou to think. It’s all a ploy to get you to lower your guard.”

“Whatever. Consider my guard lowered then because I love it here already. I read online that the Royal Lilac used to be some senator’s vacation home back in the late 1800s before they turned most of the island into a park. He’d come here to hunt and check in with the soldiers at Fort Mackinac. I guess the house fell into disuse after he died. It switched hands a couple of times until Carol Lindman picked it up in the 1990s and committed to restoring it. Much of the original exterior’s been preserved, though obviously, they’ve done a lot of remodeling inside to convert the second and third floors into guest rooms, along with a suite for the family to stay in.”

I gape at her. “Since when doyoucare so much about history?”

“Since you’ve been pretty much ignoring me all night and I had to turn to the internet for entertainment.” I blush, but she doesn’t seem upset. She must be used to my moodiness by now. “Plus, it’s actually pretty interesting. For such a tiny island,somuch has happened here. I sorta get what Professor Oshkoff sees in it.”

“Careful. Don’t letherhear that, or you’ll end up roped into a historical tour tomorrow afternoon.”