Intercepting Love (Second Chances #5)(2)

Taking a deep breath, I slowly walked past his car and opened the door that led into his kitchen, nervously biting my lip the entire time. “Scott,” I called out hesitantly. “Look, I’m sorry for barging in, but I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye. Will you please talk to me? I know things haven’t been the best between us, but I want to see you. I don’t want to leave without knowing we’re okay.”

I waited for him to speak, but there was no answer … only silence, except for the sound of the television coming from the living room. “Scott,” I called again, standing awkwardly in the kitchen. “Please, talk to me.”

When no reply came, I decided to seek him out. If he was that angry with me for leaving then he needed to say it to my face so we could work things out. He had always told me how he felt, but for the past couple of months he’d kept his feelings and his anger bottled up. I didn’t know how to get him to talk to me, so I buried myself in my school work and figured it would all work out in the end. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to.

The living room was vacant when I peeked around the corner, so I slowly made my way down the hall, looking into each room as I passed. Nothing. All that was left was his bedroom, and immediately I faltered, freezing in the middle of the hallway. Dread crept up my spine and my skin broke out in chills. It almost reminded me of the feeling you get when you’re watching a scary movie and something’s about to jump out at you.

I didn’t like closed doors, especially, when you didn’t know what you’d find behind them. Licking my dry lips, I wrapped my hand around the doorknob and twisted it gently, so afraid of what I was going to find on the other side of the door. Was he with another woman? Is that the reason why he didn’t want to answer the door?

Please, God, don’t let there be someone else, I prayed.

However, another woman in his bed wasn’t what I found. He was alone and asleep in his bed. No wonder he didn’t answer his door, I chided myself.

“Scott,” I chuckled, “it’s time to wake up, sleepy head.” I opened up the window to my right so the sun could shine in and light up the room. When that didn’t wake him up, I went to another one and opened it up as well.

“I wanted to say good-bye to you before I left,” I continued. “I was thinking maybe we could alternate weekend visits. How about this upcoming weekend I come back here and stay? Does that sound good?”

When he didn’t answer, I turned around and placed my hands on my hips. “If this is your way of getting me to stay, you know it’s not going to work, Scott. I really want this to work out, but I’m going to need your help. Please talk to me.”

I stared at him, lying in his bed, and waited on him to move or speak … or do something. Instead, he just lied there with his back to me. Swallowing hard, I took a step closer, and another. His chest wasn’t moving and there was no sound coming from him at all; everything was silent.

“Scott,” I pleaded. “You’re scaring me.”

My breaths came out in shallow gasps as I turned the corner of his bed and got a good look at him. Gasping, I closed my eyes and fell back against the wall, trying to mute the scream that escaped my lips by covering my mouth with my hand. Nothing was going to take away the image of Scott’s lifeless body permanently ingrained in my mind. His unseeing hazel eyes were open, staring straight at the ceiling with no shred of life. And there, lying beside of his motionless body, was a pill bottle … and it was empty.

“Oh my God, Scott, what the hell did you do?” I screamed, my voice unfamiliar to my own ears. Frantically, I touched his face and immediately burst into tears when all I felt was cold skin … death. “Why?” I cried, searching his face angrily. “Why would you do this to me?”

It was only just yesterday that he was alive and telling me he loved me. Why would he want to kill himself? Backing away from his cold, lifeless body, I closed my eyes and shook my head back and forth vigorously. “I don’t understand. It has to be a bad dream. Oh, please let me open my eyes and it be just a bad dream.”

As soon as I opened my eyes, the tears blurred my vision. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop me from seeing something that would forever haunt me for the rest of my life. With shaky fingers, I picked up the piece of paper that was on his nightstand and read the words inside.

I was too late.

And it was all my fault.





Two Years Later




“Am I doing okay, Dr. Townsend?”

Chuckling, I rolled my eyes and tilted my head back only to be met by Luke’s mischievous green gaze and sardonic smile. “I think you’re doing more than okay, but something tells me you might have known that a couple of weeks ago,” I told him slyly, getting to my feet.

Luke Collins was my brother’s best friend, and for the past four months I’d been helping him recover with physical therapy after he broke his leg during a motocross race. From the looks of his progress I’d say he didn’t need me anymore, but he swore up and down he did.

He was twenty-five years old—the same age as me—and sexy as hell with tousled dirty blond hair and piercing green eyes. The last thing I needed was to get involved with my brother’s best friend; especially since he was the same guy that had women falling all over him everywhere he went. Still, it didn’t stop me from admiring the view of his well-toned, tanned abs as I slowly got to my feet. His dark blue gym shorts hung low on his hips, showing off that sexy ‘v’ that women loved so much on men and all I wanted to do was run my fingers through the indentions.