Just One Chance

Copyright Copyright © 2019 by Jenny Proctor All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Cover Design: Cover Ever After ISBN: 9798842085583 Contents 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 17. Chapter 17 18. Chapter 18 19. Chapter 19 20. Epilogue Thanks for Reading! About the Author Chapter 1 Avery Middleton stood at the corner of Marshall Boulevard and Station Twenty-nine, grocery bags in hand, and watched her new neighbor hoist a sheet of plywood onto the front porch of his home. She glanced over her shoulder as Melba Newberry, Avery’s neighbor on the other side, stopped beside her, her tiny Yorkie, Jasper, cradled in her arms. “What do you think he’s up to?” Avery reached over and scratched Jasper under his chin. “I’m guessing he probably watched the weather this morning.” Melba scoffed. “That storm’s still ten days out. It’ll turn north before the end of the week anyway.” “Probably. But even if it doesn’t, does he really want to live in the dark for the next two weeks?” “Better question,” Melba said, “does he know there are panels in the shed out back to cover his windows? There’s no reason to be messin’ with plywood.” Avery lifted her ponytail off her neck, letting the early summer breeze coming off the ocean cool her skin. “Where’s he from?” Melba would know. She walked up and down Marshall three times a day. If there was anything to notice, she’d notice it. “His license plate says Illinois, and he’s got an MUSC parking permit.” “You talked to him yet?” Avery asked. “I haven’t seen him outside until now.” Melba shifted Jasper onto her shoulder. “He’s younger than I thought he was going to be.” He did look young. And completely clueless. Avery sighed. “You want to go talk to him, or should I?” “You go,” Melba said. “He’ll enjoy talking to you more than he will this old bag of bones.” Avery rolled her eyes. Melba was in her seventies, but she looked ten years younger. “Whatever, Melba. You know you’re still a fox.” Melba huffed a laugh. “Maybe, but even I can’t compete with those mile-long legs of yours. You go introduce yourself and help the poor fella out.” She leaned down and put Jasper on the ground, tugging him toward home. After a few steps, she turned back. “But go easy on him, Avery. Not everybody is a child of this island like you are. Don’t make him feel dumb for what he doesn’t know.” Avery waved at Melba and nodded her understanding as she crossed the street and approached the new guy. She paused at the end of his driveway, setting her grocery bags on the ground before pushing her hands into the back pockets of her cutoffs. “Hey,” she called out. She lifted her sunglasses and slid them back onto her head. The man turned, the sheet of plywood he’d been holding sliding to the porch at his feet. “Hello.” His voice was low and mellow, but Avery wasn’t sure she’d ever seen anyone look quite so uncomfortable in his own skin. He shifted, looking at his feet for a long moment before raising his eyes back to her. Avery looked at the sky, clear and brilliant blue, overhead. “You, uh, expecting a storm?” “There’s a hurricane,” the man said, a hint of irritation in his voice. “I know it’s still a few days out, but with work, I just . . .” His words trailed off. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Avery fought to hide her grin. She schooled her features into something a little more neutral. She hoped. “Like what?” “Like you’re about to tell me something that’s going to make me feel like an idiot.” Avery bit her lip. “Sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel stupid. I promise. Where are you from?” The man’s shoulders rose and fell. “Chicago.” Avery stepped a little closer. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I wouldn’t have the first clue how to handle a Chicago snowstorm. I’ve heard they’re brutal.” “Not as brutal as hurricanes,” he said, his tone indignant. Avery squelched a laugh. He seemed so affronted when all they were talking about was the weather. She climbed the porch steps to where he stood, trying not to flinch when she noticed a sand dollar sitting on the porch railing, a faint yellow stain against the white paint just barely visible underneath. Poor guy. He probably had no idea he’d killed the thing when he’d brought it home. The guy was super nerdy up close. His pants were neatly pressed, and he wore a collared shirt with all the buttons done up, but no tie. His sandy blond hair was perfectly parted and smoothed to the side, and he wore glasses that would maybe feel hipster with the right outfit, but on this guy, they just felt old school. And yet, he was still kind of adorable. Avery moved to the window. “Look,” she said, pointing to the bolt holes that lined the window frame. “See these here? There are hurricane panels in the shed out back that are pre-fitted to the windows. The bolts on them screw all around the frame. It’s easier than plywood.” “Oh. Got it. Thanks for pointing that out.” “Sure. My dad built this house.” Avery shrugged. “Actually, he built most of the houses around here. I’m sorry the realtor didn’t show you the panels. They normally do. Especially for people who move in during hurricane season.” “I never actually met the realtor,” the man said. “I bought the place sight unseen.” “Wow.