Page 9 of One More Chance
“Good boy,” she said, then walked away, leaving me equal parts humiliated, amused, and disturbingly aroused.
Sensing my banishment, Rufus padded over, tail low, eyes heavy with concern. He let out a soft whine and nudged my leg. I knelt beside him, fingers brushing over the soft fur of his ears.
"I know, buddy," I whispered. "I screwed everything up."
He licked my hand once, like a benediction. I scratched under his chin like I remembered he liked. "I promise you, Rufus, I'll do whatever it takes to earn my way back. Even if it takes me the rest of my life. I'm not quitting on them. Not again."
He added a small huff, as if he was confirming my vow.
Chapter 4
Leaving the house felt like peeling off a mask I barely held in place. Sloane had eventually said goodbye with that same exhausted caution in her voice, but I could sense a shift in her.
The kids waved through the window and I knew they were both already chattering about the trip. I waved back, even smiled, but inside I was rotting. My sense of self felt strained, the grim realization that I was struggling to fix things. Thank God they were still too young to realize it.
As I pulled away from the curb, the air inside the truck was thick with the scent of sweat and new leather. The sun glared down, too bright as I tried to plan my next step from here. A few blocks out, I passed the gym and my gut turned.
It was a sterile-looking place: sleek windows, steel trim, bold lettering. You'd never guess it was the site of my unraveling. I stared at it like a man watching the scene of a crime he'd committed. Fuck, I needed to cancel the membership.
That's where I met her. Angie.
She hadn't simply strolled into my life; she roared in like a wildfire looking for something to consume and I let her burn me. Hell, I kindled her flames.
But that fire didn't start with her. It was already smoldering in me, a dry brush left untended. Ego. Resentment. Years of unspoken bitterness I'd never admitted, not even to myself.
It had started on a Tuesday morning. I was skipping client calls, pretending to be productive while wasting time in a place where no one asked questions. The gym had become my temple of self-pity, a distraction wrapped in sweat and narcissism thanks to the sculptured six pack I had carefully created. I wasn't working out simply for health, I was trying to escape the monotony of life.
I ran on the treadmill, sweat pouring down my shirtless body, bored, angry, restless for reasons I couldn't name. It felt like I was breathing through gauze. Like the walls of my life were closing in and, instead of fixing it, I scratched at them.
That's when she walked in. Angie, the newest member of the gym and talk of the town thanks to her corporate daddy funding the next set of businesses looking to set up shop. Tight black leggings and flawless makeup even at 9 AM. She didn't belong in that place full of moms in oversized t-shirts and dudes sweating through their cheap tank tops.
She smiled at me while I was getting water. She wasn't coy, wasn't innocent. Fuck, she knew how attractive she was. I was helpless, caught up in the way she carried herself, completely unable to look away.
"You always scowl after cardio, or is that just for show?" Her rouge-painted lips curled into a smile that was all confidence and temptation.
I grunted some half-laugh and shrugged as I finished my water but already I was hooked. It had been months, maybe longer, since someonelooked at me like I was interesting, not a walking to-do list or a constant disappointment.
The next day, she was there again… so was I.
It started off harmless: idle chatter, lifting tips, cardio jokes, dumb flirty jabs. She told me she was single, no kids, did some marketing consulting from home. She liked my sarcasm. Said I had "Alpha energy" which fed some starving, ugly thing within me that I hadn't known was there.
I should've turned away. I should've thought of Sloane's tired hands washing dinner plates after a ten-hour shift. Or the way Liam had started biting his nails until they bled from test anxiety. Or the way Violet still asked if I'd be home every night.
But I didn't. I looked away, ignoring the problems at home and focusing on this fantasy.
Each time we met up, Angie smiled like she already owned me. And a part of me, some bitter, broken part, smiled back.
Because I wanted someone to see me.
Because I wanted to feelwanted.
Because I was too damn selfish to appreciate the woman holding our family together with both hands while I whined inside my own head about how hard life was.
The mental gymnastics started early. It disgusts me to remember the things I said to Angie as I slipped deeper into the fantasy I was constructing.
"We can just be friends."
"Sloane and I haven't really talked in weeks."
