Second Chance (Cold Springs Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page B

trip overseas.  The memories were too close, offering no place to run.
    There was an attic crawl space.  She could box everything up and temporarily put Aunt Jean’s things in there for a while.  At least for now so she wouldn’t feel so guilty, not as guilty as she would if she got rid of everything.  
    She stepped into the bedroom.  Aunt Jean’s bed was made.  A single twin bed.  Photos of friends at the diner lined one dresser.  There was another of her mother when they were little.  By the nightstand were framed photos of various sizes of her and Burt.  They looked so happy together. 
    Sam had no right removing any of these things without Burt’s permission.  She thought about calling him, but it seemed too personal and felt she should do it in person.  She quickly hurried downstairs, eager to be away from Aunt Jean’s personal things. It was like she were still alive up there.  Like Sam was intruding.
    Which was certainly a problem Sam hadn’t foreseen.  She had thought living upstairs would be fine.  Just an empty apartment she could make her own.  She hadn’t expected it to be so alive with a living memory of everything that was now gone.
    Perhaps coming home had been a mistake.  Tears stung the back of her eyes as she jumped in her vehicle and backed into the street.  She didn’t belong here.  Were Aunt Jean alive, she’d have the right words Sam needed to hear.  She’d fix things, or at least reassure her.
    It hadn’t taken more than five minutes to reach Burt’s house, a small ranch with a separate two-story detached garage. Dusk was quickly settling.  Sam hadn’t realized that she’d spent so much time at the apartment, but she had spent more time than expected picking up her car and even more at Mother’s and admitting she was now exhausted was an understatement. She shouldn’t have come here tonight.
    Burt had every light in the house on, which was odd considering he usually worried about conserving electricity.              
    She turned her vehicle off and hopped out, knowing Burt never bothered locking his door.  She didn’t knock, just let herself in unannounced. Knowing Burt, he would scold her for knocking, saying she wasn’t a guest, that only strangers knocked.
    Sam heard talking and stopped in her tracks.
    “Did you meet her yet?” Burt asked
    “No, and I don’t intend to.” 
    “Why not?”
    “What’s the point?” came the familiar voice.  It was not Burt but the voice that had called her from the train.  Ian. 
    It was rude and presumptuous to just barge in here and assume Burt had no one over.  No one had been parked in his driveway.
    “Look,” came Burt’s voice.  “Every man’s got to have somebody.”
    Was he talking about Jean?
    Sam backed up, started to leave when she felt something move under her foot.  A cat yowled, nearly scaring the wits out of her.  Burt and his guest came running.
    “Uh, hi.  Sorry about the cat.  I uh, stepped on him…or her.”  She looked around, but the cat had run off.  “I hope he’s okay.”
    “He’s all right.”  Burt waved his hand.  “C’mon in and sit down.  You remember Ian?”
    Ian.  That Ian Woods.  Of course, it was the same Ian. How many Ian Woods did she think lived in Cold Springs? Sam smiled probably the dorkiest smile she could muster.  Yup. Just like being sixteen again.
    He wore jeans, ripped at the knee, and a white T-shirt.  His face—five o’clock shadow—had a chiseled jawline and thick, dark hair that hadn’t begun to recede yet. And his eyes, the same ice blue as when he was seventeen. Only he wasn’t seventeen. He was older.  He looked different.  Serious. 
    Sam backed up against Burt’s refrigerator.
    “Hi, Sam.”
    “Hi” was all Sam could mutter.  Gone was the boyish grin.  She expected some sort of sarcastic remark from him but was relieved when none came.  Ian was just unusually quiet.  Deathly quiet.
    Burt was headed toward the