Hearts and Second Chances

Could it get any worse?

Samantha’s POV

I got home pretty late, mostly because I missed the bus going my way and then stood half-asleep at the terminal, pretending not to care.

Ding.

‘So, spill the tea!!’

Cassie’s text popped up on my screen immediately after I placed my hand on the doorknob. Of course. She probably hadn’t blinked since I told her I’d been paired with Alec.

‘Later.’

I replied before shoving my phone back into my bag and reaching for the front door.

The moment I opened the door, the smell hit me. Rich, buttery lasagna and something roasted, smoky, and mouthwatering. I inhaled like I’d just come home from a week in the woods.

“Hmmm, Mum,” I said, sniffing the air, “what’s cooking?”

Mum dashed from the kitchen, wiping her fingers on her towel, her cheeks faintly pink from the oven heat.

“You are tardy, Sammy.”

I arched a brow. “Tardy? For what exactly?”

Then it clicked. Mum had mentioned something about having a special someone over for dinner that she hadn’t stopped talking about for over a week.

“Ohhh,” I mouth.

“Mm-mm, come on now.” She turned me around and towards the steps. “Freshen up and get down here; he’ll be here any moment.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned to her. “Does he know about everything that's been going on?”

She shook her head, twirling the apron in her fingers. “Not yet, Sam, I don't want to put a burden on anyone. I don't know if he would understand.”

Some weeks ago, Mom dropped the bombshell. She was laid off from work.

She held up the eviction notice in her palms, and that was when reality hit me. She couldn't pay the bills anymore. We were at risk of losing everything.

I hated seeing her like this.

I sighed, “It’s okay, Mum. Go turn off the burner before we end up with burnt steak for dinner.”

“Oops, that's true, darling,” she giggled.

“Oh, Mum,” I said, forcing a smile, “I actually got a tutoring gig today. It’s not much, but it’s something.”

Her eyes lit up immediately, and she stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from my face. “Samantha… that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you. And you know, I’ve been looking too, and someone actually offered to help me with a lead at work. Maybe things are finally starting to turn around for us.”

Her words warmed me in a way I hadn’t felt in weeks. For a moment, I let myself imagine a little hope.

“I’ll do my best, Mum,” I said softly.

“Darling, that’s all anyone can ask,” she said, giving me a quick hug before turning back to the kitchen.

I sighed and trudged up the stairs. Sure, a shower, like it could erase the whole mess of the afternoon.

I dropped my bag on the bed immediately after I entered the room.

By my beddings and posters, you could already tell what my favourite colour was.

Pink.

You could call me a pink princess, though not the kind that got rescued.

I loosened my tight bun and exhaled at the easing of my scalp.

I caught my reflection in my dresser mirror and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of my brunette hair, flowing all the way to my back.

Then the image of Alec’s perfect white teeth and his stupid grin flashed. And his stupid blue eyes and that even more stupid calm resolve of his that made him look like he could get away with just anything.

I hated the fact that the scent of his strong Arabian oud or something ridiculously expensive still stuck with me even after he left.

He called me Sammy. He used to call me that when he pushed my books off my desk senior year, when he laughed at the way I blushed or stumbled over my words.

“No,” I nod my head. “We are not doing this. At arm’s length – that’s where he belongs. Always has”

God. I needed a distraction.

I grabbed a towel and headed for the shower, hoping the water would cool more than just my skin.

The steam filled the small bathroom, wrapping around me and clinging to my skin. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation.

By the time I came out, my hair damp and my nerves steadier, I could hear laughter from downstairs. Mum’s voice and a man’s voice too. Deep, comfortable, and a little too familiar.

Ever since Dad died, Mum has never talked about another man to me until some weeks ago, when I was having breakfast.

At the mention of a Mr Trent whom she couldn’t stop swooning over, the name had sounded oddly familiar, but I couldn’t just place a finger on it. It was like the bacon I had just plopped into my mouth refused to go down. So I had quickly changed the subject before Mum could spill something I really didn’t want to know about.

Now, hearing her laugh downstairs—a real, carefree laugh. I didn’t know what to feel. Guilt, maybe? Or something close to jealousy.

I turned toward the dresser and looked at the picture of Dad and me at a tennis court.

He is holding the ball and the racket, and I am beside him. His arm wrapped around my waist. That had always been his favourite sport to play.

“I hope you’d like him, because I don’t know if I will.” I sighed and blew a kiss.

Pulled on a shirt, brushed through my hair, and stared at the reflection one last time before heading downstairs. I looked composed, but my chest felt tight like I was walking into a test I hadn’t studied for.

“Just dinner,” I told myself. “Smile, be polite, don’t overthink it.”

As I walked downstairs, the laughter grew louder. Mum’s giggle floated through the hall like a song, and I almost smiled. Until I heard his voice again.

That same deep, even tone I’d heard hours ago.

And just as the dining room came into view. I saw Mum sitting across from him, her fingers slightly brushing his, and the quick adjustment as he retracted his hand when he noticed me.

“Ah, Sammy!” Mum said, too cheerfully. “Come join us.”

The man turned his head towards me, and for a moment, my mind went blank.

“Oh, hello there, Samantha.”

Then I recognised him.

My stomach flipped.

This can’t be happening.

Sitting a few feet from me was my professor from college.

Mum’s special someone.

Mr Trent.

Professor Trent.

I froze. My breath hitched. I nudged my glasses back a little to be sure I was seeing correctly. But no, it was him, right? That same tone he used in class when calling on students who weren't ready.

He looked as shocked as I felt, though his expression softened quickly.

His wrist caught the light as he reached for his glass—a glint of silver.

The watch.

I’d seen one just like it earlier that day; I just couldn't place a finger on it. The same vintage face, the same worn leather strap, even the tiny scratch across the rim.

“Didn’t know you two were related,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching, like this was some cosmic joke.

You have got to be kidding me. I had to shut my eyes tight to prevent them from rolling.

Mum smiled, obviously unaware. “Oh, you know each other?”

Know each other?

If only she knew.

I forced a smile so tight it hurt. “He’s my professor,” I said, my voice seeping through my teeth.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Mum beamed, clapping her hands once. “See? Small world!”

I wanted to sink into the floor.

Mr Trent cleared his throat. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

Understatement of the century.

My legs suddenly felt heavy as I walked to the table, and all eyes were on me.

Mum, bless her heart, kept talking. Asking if I wanted lasagna, if I’d like to sit, but all I could think about was Alec’s grin from earlier and how this was somehow worse.

And the glances from Mr Trent and Mum when they thought I wasn’t looking.

I thought I might puke.