No Second Chances Read Online Free PDF

hung back, leaning against the garage wall and ignoring me. I’d stepped up the flirting, being deliberately louder, even touching her friend’s hair to try and get her to glance in my direction, but she’d only looked bored.
    I wasn’t sure what fascinated me so much about Gabriella. She seemed different than the rest of the girls at school. She was smart, and while she had a couple of close friends, she didn’t appear interested in fitting in with the crowd. While the other girls all sidled up to me, flirting and twirling their hair around their fingers, Gabi acted as though I barely existed. When I spoke to her, she looked at me as though she couldn’t quite believe I’d had the nerve to engage her in conversation. That might put some guys off, but not me. I’d like a challenge. Plus she had the cutest nose I’d ever seen—the way it tipped up slightly at the end—big brown eyes, and dark curls I imagined sinking my hands into. She wasn’t quick to smile, but I bet when you eventually coaxed a smile from her, it would be like she’d given you the greatest gift on earth.
    I was determined to get that smile, and I always got what I wanted.
     

 
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    Gabriella – Present Day
     
     
     
    I got back to my dad’s house, still reeling from the altercation with the woman in the parking lot, and from seeing Cole again. I hated that he’d gotten even hotter with age. If the universe had been kind to me just the once, he would have had a beer gut and a receding hairline by now. But no, instead he was even better looking—a grown man now instead of a boy. Tattoos and muscles, and a hard edge to his jawline. I didn’t know what he’d been through in prison, but he appeared to have lost the playful, relaxed air I’d loved so much about him. Sure, he’d had a temper back then, and even at eighteen had been quick to fight, but I’d always believed that had been an act so he could survive in the world in which he’d been raised. I’d always resented only having one parent—especially as the parent who’d been left behind wasn’t exactly a functioning member of society anymore—but I couldn’t imagine having grown up feeling like no one wanted me. My dad had plenty of faults, but, other than the drinking, he’d never made me feel like he didn’t love me. If anything, I was the one who probably made him feel like the unloved one.
    I pulled my car up in the driveway and began the awkward process of climbing out with my prosthetic limb. The position always reminded me of a dog cocking its leg—something that didn’t do much for my self-esteem. To be fair, no part of the last six months had done anything for my self-esteem. Here I was, twenty-eight years old, out of work, and living with my alcoholic father. Oh, yes, and missing a limb, and now an ex-boyfriend on the scene who looked better than ever, and who’d witnessed me arguing with a woman in a parking lot, while bright red and dripping with sweat, all before flashing my prosthetic limb at half of town. As far as I could tell, I had absolutely no reason to feel good about myself.
    Trying not to think about it, and failing miserably, I let myself into the house. Immediately, I caught the waft of bacon cooking, and my stomach grumbled with hunger. I’d only grabbed a banana before leaving the house, and though I suspected my dad had only just managed to get out of bed, I’d already been up for hours.
    I walked into the kitchen to find him standing at the stove, flipping rashers. He smiled at me as I entered, and I tried not to notice his bloodshot eyes and puffy complexion.
    “Hey, sweetheart. There you are. I wondered where you’d gotten to.”
    I gestured to an envelope on the countertop on which I’d scribbled him a note before I’d left. “I wrote you a note, Dad. Didn’t you see it?”
    “Obviously I didn’t, or I wouldn’t have asked you,” he grumbled.
    He got frustrated with himself in the same way I did. His