Last Second Chance

Chapter Sixteen

“Mr. Ransom,” a male voice said as the door to his room opened slowly.

“Come on in,” Van called out from his couch.

His manager sat on the other end of the small sofa, and once the tall, Hispanic doctor entered, the room was sufficiently cramped. Van was looking forward to hitting his thirty days and getting moved to a private residence more every day.

The main reason for his impatience taunted him in his head. Her laugh, her lips, the beautiful hesitant smiles.

Whenever he caught glimpses of her in passing, she wasn’t typically smiling. But he’d consistently found ways to bring that sexy shade of pink to her cheeks and curve that luscious mouth of hers.

Those smiles belonged to him, and he treasured each and every one of them.

“Van? Did you hear what Dr. Ramirez just said?” His manager’s question pulled him reluctantly from a quickly forming fantasy about the many ways he wanted to feel her mouth on him.

“Sorry.” He shook his head as if that could even begin to clear the vivid images from his head. She was so ingrained in his mind that he caught the faintest hint of her sweet wildflower scent. He was fucking losing it. Once and for all. “Long day. What can I do for you, Dr. Ramirez?”

Glancing up, he noticed that the man looked kind of strange. His brow was creased, and he closed the door gently behind him.

“Mr. Walker, please know that we do our best to protect your privacy and respect your wishes.”

Van glanced at Sid, who shrugged. Clearly Van wasn’t the only one who didn’t have a clue what the man was talking about. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t anything to do with Stella. Unless the man was giving them his blessing, which he highly doubted.

“Okay. Thanks. I appreciate that,” he said, because what else was there to say?

The doctor cleared his throat. Loudly. “That being said, some instances simply can’t be avoided. Which is why you have an approved list of visitors that we adhere to strictly.”

“Yes, sir. I understand,” he said, nodding for him to continue. Van wasn’t sure where this was going, but judging from the way the man’s shoulders sagged, it wasn’t anyplace good.

“Unfortunately, if someone, say, a fiancée, wanted to make a surprise visit, this would become problematic for a multitude of reasons because—”

“Wait, what? Whose fiancée? I don’t have a fiancée.” Van stood, suddenly feeling dangerously claustrophobic in the tiny room. The gears in his brain began whirring so loudly he could barely hear his manager telling him to calm down as he advanced on the doctor. “I have an ex-fiancée, but I made it perfectly clear that she was to be removed from my list. I informed a care coordinator myself.”

Dr. Ramirez placed his hands up, his palms facing Van as if to hold him off should he launch a physical attack.

“I understand. And when Miss Chandler paged me, she explained that Miss Reeves had in fact been removed from your list per your request.”

Motherfucking son of a crazy-ass bitch.

Vanessa had found him and had likely spouted her delusional bullshit all over everyone. Everyone including Stella Jo Chandler apparently.

The image forming in his mind—Vanessa storming into SCR, throwing a hissy fit of her usual brand, and saying who the hell knew what in front of Stella—made him feel sick. He knew how far Vanessa’s delusions went. There had been times when she’d gotten so high she’d sworn she’d had detailed in-depth conversations with Val after she’d been dead for years.

Clearly she’d announced herself as his fiancée even though they’d only been engaged for a few months and that was over a year ago.

His heart pumped harder as it sank in that Vanessa might’ve destroyed every ounce of progress he’d made with Stella Jo Chandler.

“So the situation is handled then?” Sid asked.

Van had missed everything the two men had said except that. He was pretty sure the doctor confirmed that it was.

The fuck it was. Checking his watch, he saw that it was nearly seven. If Stella Jo was down at the barn convincing herself he had a fiancée, what did she think about everything he’d told her? About their brief time together? It was too fucking brief. He wasn’t done. Hell, he hadn’t even started. But he knew how stubborn she was. How little patience and tolerance she had for games and lies.

“I have to go,” he announced abruptly.

“Van, it’s handled. Just because she knows you’re here doesn’t mean she’ll—”

“No, I mean, I need to run down to the barn,” Van said, interrupting his manager. “I’ve been helping out down there and I just remembered I was supposed to handle a few things.”

Number one thing he wanted to handle was reassuring a certain beautiful brunette that he wasn’t engaged to a fucking lunatic. At least, not anymore.

Dr. Ramirez opened the door and nodded. “Well, crisis averted. I’m glad we didn’t offend someone dear to you. That would be the last thing we would want to do.”

Except they had. Or Vanessa probably had. Van nodded and forced out a breath. “Yeah. No harm, no foul.”

He wanted to trample the damn doctor to get him out of the way. But when brown eyes met his, Van was struck with a worrisome thought. Could this man possibly know that he was just heading down to the barn for Stella? No. No one could possibly know anything. There wasn’t much of anything to know. Yet. But he wanted to change that as soon as humanly possible.

“Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you, Mr. Walker,” Dr. Ramirez said as he lingered in the doorway.

You can get the fuck out of my way. “Thank you. I appreciate everything you’ve done already.”

With a nod, the man finally left.

Van turned to Sid with what he knew was probably sheer panic spinning wild patterns in his eyes. “I have to go.”

His manager scrubbed a hand over his bald head and sighed. “Anything I can say to change your mind?”

“Not a chance in hell.”

Leaning back on the couch, Sid let his head fall as he closed his eyes. “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

Van barely heard the last part. He was out the door and down the hall before the words were completely spoken.

Speed walking like a madman, Van made his way around a group of nurses who giggled as he passed. There was an elevator, but he didn’t have time for that so he sprinted down a back stairwell and navigated the maze that led him out the front doors of the building. No one was manning the sign-out desk so he didn’t bother.

Jogging out of the doors, he managed to hold off on breaking into a dead run until he was fairly certain no one could see him. The sun was setting quickly, and there was a light on in the stables.

She was in there, probably telling Shadowdancer what a colossal dick Van was. Not that he’d disagree with her. The horse was probably nodding along and plotting to flatten his ass next time he got close enough.

Slowing to a walk and catching his breath, Van approached the stables. Catching his breath had been pointless though. As soon as he saw her, she took his breath away, even more so than running had. Her back was to him, but the glow around her, the goodness and the emptiness that radiated from her, hit him just as hard as it did when she faced him head-on.

Her hair had been tied back when he’d seen her earlier that day. But now it hung long and most of the way down her back. The silky chestnut locks were mostly straight with just a little rebellious curl at the ends. Snug-fitting jeans hugged her perfect ass and those long, slender legs. The tips of her cowgirl boots peeked out from underneath.

She held a clipboard and seemed to be counting bags of feed. She knew he had joined her—he could tell by the way her shoulders had stiffened as the tension rolled across them. But she didn’t acknowledge him in any other way. She did, however, stop and love on Shadowdancer as she passed.

They had a connection. He could see it. Even before she leaned forward and kissed the damn thing on its oversized head. Never in his life had he been so jealous. And it was of a damned animal of all things. Shadowdancer huffed out a loud breath, raised his eyes to Van’s, and—Van could’ve sworn—chucked his chin at him as if to say, “Find your own girl, asshole.”

She loved that giant black beast. Clearly. Despite his moody and nearly abusive ways. A thought came unbidden into a dark corner of his mind. Could she ever love him that way? Unconditionally? Without judgment? With the capability of complete forgiveness for a lifetime of sins she’d be hard-pressed to even imagine?

Only one person had ever loved him that way, and it had been more than even she’d been able to handle.

He wanted to kick his own ass. They were so far from love that it was ridiculous to even think the word in her presence. He wasn’t sure he was even capable of it. Much less interested in finding it.

Suddenly he had no idea why he’d been in such a rush to get down here. What could he say? I’m not actually engaged anymore, so let’s resume our plans to fuck and forget each other.

What a pointless waste. And he was running out of energy for it all. It was the first time he’d ever thought about getting high in her presence. That hollow ache, that familiar acidic, internal corrosion that reminded him he’d never be good enough and would only taint someone as pure and beautiful as Stella Jo Chandler, began to consume him.

He had no clue what the hell he’d ever been thinking. This woman deserved a fairytale, a Prince Charming who’d ride in on one of these fucking four-legged creatures and sweep her off into a happily ever after. That wasn’t him. Could never he him.

He released an imprisoned breath. In a way, letting the fantasy of her go was a relief. He never could’ve lived up to what she’d expect or deserve. Well…maybe when it came to making her scream as he gave her orgasm after orgasm, he could have. Other than that, no fucking way.

But as she turned to the side and gifted him a glance at her profile, he couldn’t help but see how sad she looked. He noticed how the rounded swells of her breasts peeked at him from above the deep neckline of her white tank top also, but surprisingly, that wasn’t what caught his attention. Not entirely, anyways. It was the way her mouth was drawn downward, the way she chewed her bottom lip, almost like she was worried. And when she finally turned to face him, that light in her eyes—the one he usually credited himself for—was gone.

“I’m pretty much done for the night,” she said softly, avoiding his direct gaze. “I don’t really need you.”

The fuck she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t need him to help take inventory of supplies and shit, but this woman needed him. He wasn’t even sure in what way exactly. When her searching stare finally landed directly on him, he didn’t care if all she ever needed from him was raging orgasms. He’d give them to her—gladly. For as long as she’d let him.

“Stella Jo, listen, I—”

Her hand up stopped him mid-sentence. “I’m kind of tired, Van. It’s been an exhausting day. Thanks for coming down, but as you can see, everything’s already taken care of. Excuse me.”

Bullshit. She hadn’t been taken care of. Watching her force her shoulders back and her chin up, he suspected she’d never really been taken care of. By anyone. Likely she was the type that always took care of herself.

He’d never taken care of anyone before. He’d always been more the selfish type that remained oblivious to what other people needed. Look out for number one and all that. Because with the exception of Val, most everyone else seemed to be out for themselves. But he damn sure wanted to take care of this woman. In every way imaginable.

Remembering how she usually backed off when Shadowdancer got riled up—and the near disaster from the one time she hadn’t—Van decided to give her some space. Like that day with the nurse, she’d jumped to a conclusion that had pissed her off. Granted, Vanessa had probably shouted her lies from the fucking rooftop, so it was a natural conclusion to jump to. And while he hated hurting her, in a warped sort of way, it made his dick brutally hard that she was jealous. It also provoked a strange tightness in his chest, but he was ignoring that for the most part.

“What about you, Stella Jo? Are you taken care of?”

She raised an eyebrow as she passed him but exited the barn without a word.

Following her out of the stables, he kept a step behind as he walked her to her door. Like the overly obsessed creeper he was quickly becoming.

“Hey,” he said as she opened her door. “For the record, I’m not engaged.” He shrugged when she said nothing, and just stared at him impassively as if she couldn’t give two shits if he was engaged or not.

“Your personal life is none of my business.”

His hand struck out and caught the edge of her door before she could close it. “Okay. But I’m not and I haven’t been for a long time. I wanted you to know—whether you actually give a damn or not is up to you.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stella Jo.”

He let go of the door and she closed it in his face with a gentle click.

She was mad. Or hurt. Or both. And quite possibly, she was done with him and their little flirtation altogether.

But her words from a few nights ago haunted him.

“But now, after…after that… If we don’t, if you never so much as touch me again, I’m afraid I’ll lose my mind.”

Then that would make two of them.