Second Chances by Abbie Williams

order a pizza or go in search of an actual grocery store when my cell phone buzzed from inside the room, signaling an incoming call. Dammit . I figured it must be Mom, or maybe even Jilly, but when I picked it up from the floor the name on the display read Blythe .
    My heart swamped my body with sudden hot, frantic blood. I made a sound in my throat that was part longing, part fear. In the end I debated a second too long and it went to voicemail. With shaking fingers I pushed the redial button, imagining my heart as the dynamite at the end of one of those long detonator cords. But in this case, the flame was racing towards the target, not inching.
    And then his voice was in my ear, so warm and immediate and intense. “Joelle,” he said. “Joelle. Oh God, baby, where are you?”
    â€œBlythe,” I breathed, sinking to sit on the bed. My heart was thumping so intently it almost drowned him out.
    â€œGramps told me you’re on the way here. Oh God, Joelle, where are you? Are you close?” He sounded shaken, as though he might be pacing.
    â€œBlythe,” I said again, my throat raspy with emotion. “Are you all right? I’ve been so worried.”
    â€œAw, sweetheart,” he said, low, his throat likewise rough. “Don’t worry about me. You have enough to worry about.”
    â€œI’m in Wichita,” I told him, and longing for him swelled through my body, now that I’d heard his voice.
    He breathed out in a rush. “You’re only two and a half hours away,” he said. “I would come to you but I can’t leave the state. Can you come tonight?”
    â€œYes,” I whispered. “Yes, I’ll come.”
    â€œRich and I are at the Arrowhead Motel, just outside of Brandt. It’s a straight shot, and you’ll see the motel from the interstate. Is Mom expecting you tonight?”
    â€œShe was,” I told him. “Will it be too late once I get there?” I was already up and throwing things back into my bag.
    â€œNo, no, not at all,” he said. “Call me if you can’t find it.”
    â€œI will,” I said. “I’ll be there soon.” And I hesitated for a moment, desire and hope and so many other things rioting together inside me.
    â€œHurry,” he said then. His tone sent trailers of heat spiraling down low into my belly. “But drive safe.”
    â€œI will,” I said again. And then I hung up and tornadoed through the room, grabbing my shampoo and make-up bag from the bathroom, brushing my teeth, shaking out my hair and running my fingers through its length, almost falling over in my haste to get dressed. Jeans, tank top, sandals…I barely remembered to check out before I was jogging to the car. The girl at the front desk had been kind enough not to charge me for the night.
    The sky was huge and glinting with the first couple of stars as I slid behind the wheel, reenergized. He wasn’t angry, he hadn’t told me to go home to Minnesota and forget about him. So much for Rich keeping my secret. But I didn’t care. In less than a few hours Bly would be in my arms. I literally ached to get them around his shoulders, to cup his face and kiss him like he’d just returned from battle. I found the interstate with no trouble, again heading south as a moon waxing towards full shone down like an ivory half-smile.
    I let the radio seek until it found a local station, and a country song came crooning into the car, reminding me of the nights that Blythe and I would dance to the radio in his truck, out at the old state park campsite. I curled my hands around the steering wheel and kept it on that station, volume low, my nerves jittering as I crossed from Kansas into Oklahoma. For a moment a part of my mind realized that I’d never been farther south than southern Illinois. The sky above me was black now, spangled with stars, and I passed only a few other cars on the road on this August