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I didn’t break her heart, and she didn’t break mine—we broke each other’s.

I never stopped loving her, but time and distance played its cruel role in ripping us apart three years ago when she moved halfway around the world. Now after all those endless miles away, she’s returned . . . but I’m not the guy I was before.

Beautiful, kind, and loving, she’s the same—my hope. The only one who can make a day better, who can make me feel again with one kiss, one touch, one night.

There’s so much I have to put back in place now that I’m alone and on my own. Things I never wanted at the age of twenty-five. When I receive an unexpected letter that might hold the clues to everything I desperately need to understand about my family, I’m sure I have to follow it. But that means leaving her once more.

She says she’ll come with me, and having her by my side will unbreak my heart . . . or destroy it.

That’s the chance I have to take.


Lauren Blakely

13 August 2018

Filled with raw emotion, heartbreak, hope, and humour, an angsty, emotional second chance romance is available now from Lauren Blakely, and I have a sneak peek for you.

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I’ve never been particularly good at waiting. I’m a doer, but I’ve had to learn that sometimes you have no choice—you have to wait.

For results. For answers. For the next thing to happen, even if you have no clue what the next thing might be.

Maybe even especially when you don’t know.

I desperately want to tell Andrew I may be leaving again soon. I want to ask him what he thinks of my plans. When my first job ended last month and I chose to return to California to care for Ian through his final days, my trip was open-ended. Since then, I’ve been looking for work anywhere and everywhere, including here. But the job I’ve found that suits me best is on another continent. Like a magnet, I’m drawn to the other side of the world.

If it happens, I’ll have to tell Andrew, no matter how hard it’ll be to say.

Right now though, I don’t think he’s ready to hear the details. Not when his eyes light up when I knock on his door. Not when he smiles when I bring him Chinese takeout.

He thinks I don’t know he misses us.

But I know.

And I miss us too, even after three years apart.

I miss us desperately.

That’s why I haven’t told him. Because I’m not ready to say goodbye either.

* * *

After the waves have done their job clearing my mind, I head to Andrew’s home, bracing myself for today’s act of restraint when I see him. Is it wrong that I thought about kissing him after his brother’s memorial service last month?

Yes, it’s so wrong.

But even so, I wanted to kiss the breath out of my former summer love when I found him alone on a beach, sunglasses on, staring at the sea. I sat with him, quietly.

I took his hand in mine, and our fingers linked together.

He met my gaze, his brown eyes brimming with sadness.

Sadness came over me too, but so did a potent desire to kiss him hard, to take on all his pain. I could do that for him. I’m strong, and I’m tough, and I could bear his burdens.

I want to take everything on for him—it’s my instinct, it’s my gut.

But that’d be the riskiest thing I could do.

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