Back Southern Chance Save as PDF
Chapters (30)
  1. Chapter One
  2. Chapter Two
  3. Chapter Three
  4. Chapter Four
  5. Chapter Five
  6. Chapter Six
  7. Chapter Seven
  8. Chapter Eight
  9. Chapter Nine
  10. Chapter Ten
  11. Chapter Eleven
  12. Chapter Twelve
  13. Chapter Thirteen
  14. Chapter Fourteen
  15. Chapter Fifteen
  16. Chapter Sixteen
  17. Chapter Seventeen
  18. Chapter Eighteen
  19. Chapter Nineteen
  20. Chapter Twenty
  21. Chapter Twenty-One
  22. Chapter Twenty-Two
  23. Chapter Twenty-Three
  24. Chapter Twenty-Four
  25. Chapter Twenty-Five
  26. Chapter Twenty-Six
  27. Epilogue One
  28. Epilogue Two
  29. Books By Natasha Madison
  30. Acknowledgments

“I’ll be ready in five,” I say, getting up and walking to the bathroom. I pee in the dark and get dressed, not even turning on the light when I brush my teeth. When I walk out of the bathroom, the lights are on, and she’s sitting on the bed eating another bag of chips. She has a sweater on now and her Gucci flops. I don’t tell her that she’s going to have to put running shoes on once we get to the farm. Instead, I grab my bag.

“I have the rest of the food,” Olivia says, getting up and walking to the door. I’m not a morning person and never have been. I need at least two cups of coffee, and that’s before I can even see straight. We walk past the unoccupied reception desk and outside into the cold air.

“It’ll heat by nine,” I say, unlocking the car door and getting in. We don’t hit a Starbucks, but we do find a coffee shop. I order three cups of coffee, finishing one as soon as we sit back in the car. We pick up a couple of sandwiches, and the closer I get to home, the more my nerves kick into gear.

“It’s going to be fine.” I give myself a pep talk when I look over at Olivia, who’s asleep in the passenger seat.

Getting off at the exit, I slowly make my way down Main Street, trying not to look around or even slow down. Instead, I focus on heading to my family’s farm. “I swear it looks just like a Hallmark movie,” Olivia says while she looks outside in awe, and I want to groan. “Fuck,” she says, and then I make the mistake of looking out the window when we come to a stop sign. I look over to see black hair.

He walks down the two steps of the sheriff’s office, but I would know that walk anywhere. When I left eight years ago, he was just a boy, and now he is all man. No matter what I tell myself or say out loud, just looking at him makes my heart ache even more than it did before. His chest is bigger, his arms are thicker, and his five o’clock is shadow setting in.

I watch him walk, looking down, and then turn around to see a boy come running toward him. He smiles at him and bends down to catch the boy with blond hair. He picks him up in his arms and buries his face in his neck. I was wrong before, the pain of leaving him was nothing compared to the pain I feel now as I watch him with his son.