One More Chance - Abbi Glines Page 0,2

child and love it as if it were her own. Maryann Colt was the mother every kid deserved. When I was little and would visit Mase, his mother would make us cookies and take us on picnics. She would tuck us in at night, and after she would kiss Mase’s cheek and tell him she loved him, she would do the same to me. As if I belonged there.

And Maryann knew what it felt like to be a mother. She understood the need in me to protect this baby. She had held my hand when they confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. Her tears hadn’t been of sorrow but of joy. She had been happy for me because I was happy. That evening was the first time I had ever heard Mase fight with his mother. Maryann had stood by me while I explained that I wasn’t having an abortion. Mase had been furious. He’d ended up begging me to reconsider.

I knew that Grant would be worse. Telling myself that he had forgotten me or that he didn’t care was pointless. I knew better. He still called me every day and left a message. He wanted forgiveness and was possibly ready to take that chance of loving someone with my condition. But now the risk was so much greater. In the end, I didn’t think he would have enough strength to stick it out. I couldn’t forget the words he’d said to me the last time I’d seen him. Our chance was over.

“You feeling OK?” Mase’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I covered my eyes from the sun and squinted up at him. He was dressed in his faded jeans and a blue plaid shirt. A fine layer of dust covered him from his morning activities, and the cowboy hat on his head was tilted back as he wiped the sweat on his forehead with a towel from his back pocket.

“I’m fine. Just lost in my thoughts,” I explained.

He held out his hand to me. “Come on, let’s go eat something. Momma will have lunch on the table by now.” Maryann cooked a full meal for lunch every day. She said her guys needed it to keep going hard outside. Mase’s stepfather was still using a walking stick after taking a tumble off his tractor, even though he’d already gotten his cast removed. Mase had been picking up his stepfather’s slack for a while now, and he seemed relieved that he was back out working. His stepfather raised beef cattle, and his work was grueling. Mase was only used to training a few horses.

I slipped my hand into my brother’s and let him pull me up. I wouldn’t admit to him that I was weak from my loss of appetite. I wasn’t nauseated from the pregnancy, but I missed Grant. Right now, I wanted him. I wanted to share this with him. To see him smile and hear him laugh. I wanted more than he could give me.

“You haven’t smiled in days,” Mase said, letting go of my hand.

I dusted off my bottom and managed a shrug. “I’m not going to lie to you. I miss him. I love him, Mase. I admitted that to you already.”

Mase fell into step beside me as we walked toward his parents’ large white farm house with its wraparound porch and flowers in the window boxes. Mase had grown up with the perfect life. The kind that kids like me don’t believe in unless they’ve seen it. I wanted to give that kind of life to my child.

“Answer his call tonight instead of sending it to voice mail. He wants to hear your voice. At least give him that. It might make you feel better,” Mase said. This wasn’t the first time he’d urged me to answer Grant’s calls. I hadn’t told Mase why I’d left. I couldn’t stand the idea of Mase hating Grant. He wouldn’t understand why Grant had reacted the way he had. And he’d never forgive him. They would be family one day. This baby would make them family.

And if I wasn’t around . . .

“You’re stubborn, Harlow Manning. You know that?” He nudged my shoulder with his arm.

“I’ll answer him when it’s time. It just isn’t time yet.”

Mase let out a frustrated sigh. “You’re carrying his baby. He needs to know that. This ain’t right, what you’re doing.”

I brushed the wisps of hair that had fallen out of my ponytail holder out of my face. He wouldn’t understand why