Blaze's Second Chance (The Sinclair Men)

By: Sam Crescent

Chris slammed his hand on the table. “You don’t use women like Cassie Walker. You don’t fuck them and then just leave them like they’re dirt. Trust me, all you get is heartache and feeling like complete crap.”

“How would you know what that feels like?” Blaze attacked back. He’d not sit and take his younger brother’s rant. He knew he was in the wrong, and he didn’t need anyone to tell him.

“Because I’ve been where you are now. I’ve had the best woman for me, and I fucked her and dumped her.” Silence descended on the room. Blaze was shocked. “I’ve felt the very essence of love. To have a woman follow me and bask in everything I am. Not the money I make or who my brother is, but to love and like me. You wanna know what I did? I took her, wined and dined her, and then I fucked her senseless. I took her virginity, and then I dumped her for the next model who came along.” Chris’s eyes were filled with raging emotion.

Blaze had no idea what to say. He’d never seen his brother in love or even known there was a woman out there. The pain he glimpsed in his brother’s eyes was real.

“Do you see her?” Blaze asked quietly.

“Yes, I see her daily. She works in this building. I’ll not tell you who, but her eyes no longer follow me. When she speaks to me, it’s because she has to and no other reason.” Chris went and stared out of the office window. “You think this is hard? Wait until you see her again, knowing that the dull pain reflecting in her eyes is because of you. Or you see a guy paying attention to the woman you love, and you know you can’t stop her.”

Blaze sat in shock, the pain and knowledge of his brother’s pain scaring him. Is this the future he was to have?

“Is this why you’ve taken on the matchmaking thing?” Blaze asked. He knew the rumours that ran around his office.

Chris laughed. “We’re not all stupid fools when it comes to love, but some of us just need a helping hand.”

Blaze smiled. This man, his younger brother, was a hopeless romantic. Their father did say that when his boys met the right woman there would be no other woman for them. Their hearts would love just one, and that love would never cease and would only get stronger.

Blaze recalled the love his mother and father shared – that was true love. When his mother died giving birth to their third child, Trent, it had nearly destroyed their father. However, ten years later he’d married another woman and had two more children. He wondered if Molly had ever felt second best. For the first time he started to wonder about his own life.

“What should I do, Chris?” Blaze asked.

“I have no idea.” Chris left him alone in his office with his wondering thoughts.

Chapter Three

Cassie sat at home wondering what had happened to her. Just a month ago she had the most amazing job. Her life had been simple and fun. Now she felt like she’d been struck by lightning. The pain never ceased. As the hours moved by, it became easier to do something besides cry. Her face was red and puffy and her nose sore from using tissues. In the small period of time she’d consumed three tubs of chocolate ice cream and resorted to vanilla. Nothing seemed to help her aching heart. When she’d managed to get herself under control she’d gone out of her small house. On the way to the supermarket she’d passed a stand with all of the newspapers and glossy magazines. On every page she saw a picture of Blaze and Francesca with the words “happy couple” dotting the page. The sickness and tears had returned, and she’d walked straight home.

Chris Sinclair had been a miracle worker. He’d helped her find work and made sure she’d be all right. He was a great guy.

She stroked her ginger cat, Whiskers, and wondered how she would be able to cope with the rest of her life.

“I love him, Whiskers,” she told her trusted friend.

Whiskers purred and climbed up into her lap and cuddled her.

The knock at the door surprised her. She was expecting Chris to gather her belongings and drop them in to her. Picking up Whiskers, she opened her door.

Blaze stood on her doorstep, a box in hand. The desire to slam the door in his face was so tempting, but she’d been brought up with better manners than that.

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