Page 49 of One More Chance
I placed my hand on his shoulder and met his eyes. “I won't miss a second.”
He nodded and tried to act cool, but I saw it: relief.
Violet and I cheered loud. Maybe a little too loud. She stood on the bench, screaming her brother's name. I found myself yelling too, guilty of coaching from the sidelines, even though I didn’t know a damned thing about soccer. Parents side-glanced at us, but I didn't care. Liam played hard. Scored once. Missed a second shot. But he smiled through all of it.
Once we got back home, I let them watch one episode of their favorite show while I folded laundry and prepped a small dessert. I texted Sloane a picture of Liam’s muddy jersey with the caption:
Victory stains. One goal, one near fight, three grass stains.
Her reply came a few minutes later:
Thanks for being there tonight. It means more than you know.
Once they were tucked in, Violet with her favorite stuffed fox and Liam already snoring, I walked downstairs with Rufus in tow. The house was quiet except for Rufus’s tail thumping against everything we walked by.
I got to the bottom of the stairs and I saw it. A folded piece of paper slid halfway under the front door. I picked it up knowing who it was from.
Same red lipstick, same scrawling letters.
You think you can cut me out? You’re still mine. They’ll never see you the way I do. I've seen you at your worst.
Istared at it for a full minute while my heart pounded like a war drum.
This wasn’t going to be over unless I started being more proactive. I snapped a photo and sent it to the number the police station gave me, the one they said to use if things escalated. A confirmation text buzzed back: a case number, cold and clinical, followed by a promise that someone would be in touch within twenty four to forty eight hours.
It wasn’t fast enough. Not for the way Angie moved, but it was a start. I needed to stay ahead of her and gather all I could: every photo, every call, every spoiled breadcrumb she left behind.
Angie might not be the same as she was in my previous life, but like hell if I was going to let her ruin this life for me. I wasn’t only protecting myself anymore. I was building a case strong enough to bury her.
I folded the note and slid it into my back pocket. Rufus sat near the door, ears up and eyes sharp, on high alert. He must’ve either heard her or smelled her perfume.
I checked the locks twice and turned off the porch light before I made my way towards the master bedroom. Sloane’s door was cracked, soft light spilling into the hall. She had slipped out during the final countdown with the kids and given them brief kisses before heading to shower.
I stared at the soft outline of her door, what used to be our door, and I felt a pang as I raised my hand to tap.
“Yeah?” she asked, her voice tired but gentle.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. She was propped up in bed, book in hand, a mug of tea on her nightstand. She looked pale. Her eyes were shadowed with fatigue.
“You okay?” I asked, hovering near the edge of the room.
She nodded. “Tired. Headache won’t go away.”
“Want anything? Water? Ice pack?”
“No, just sleep. I already took something earlier.”
I hesitated before I crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed. I didn't want to disturb her, but I hungered to be near her, hear her voice, see her face.
“The kids are finally down,” I said. “Liam crushed it tonight. One goal and tons of attitude. Violet wants to paint her sneakers tomorrow.”
Sloane gave me a faint smile, as if that was the exact update she’d needed.
"Thanks for being there, Levi."
"There's nowhere else I'd rather be. I'm glad I could help. " We sat in silence for a moment before I asked, "What are you reading?"
"Oh, a romance. Why?"
