Chapter 6 #2
The please breaks something in him, and all I can do is stare at him as he studies my desperation.
Then, he kisses me like he's memorizing my taste, one hand tangling in my hair while the other slides under my layers to find bare skin. I fumble with his jeans, fingers clumsy with want, needing him closer, needing more.
Then, just at I pull his zipper down, my phone buzzes.
Once. Twice. Three times in rapid succession.
We both freeze.
"Ignore it," Chase murmurs against my neck.
I want to. God, I want to.
But the screen lights up with Mom's calendar alert: "Gala meeting. Noon tomorrow. DO NOT BE LATE, Piper!"
Reality crashes back and Chase feels me tense. He sighs and pulls back, reading my face with those too-perceptive hazel eyes.
"Why is this so hard?" I whisper against his chest, feeling defeated all over again.
"Well, and I'm no nurse like you, but I think because you were about to rub it."
I swat his shoulder, but I'm laughing too, the tension breaking just enough to breathe again. "You're terrible."
The laughter fades, and I gather courage. "I just don't get it. That first night we shared was so amazing. Spontaneous and wild and exactly what I needed." I pause, searching for words. "But everything since then has felt... different."
"Different how?"
"Different like I actually care what happens next. Different like I'm not ready to leave in—" I check my phone, "—five hours. Different like this was supposed to be simple and fun, and instead it's—"
"Complicated?"
"Terrifying."
He just listens, his hand stroking my back. When I finally look up, there's this expression on his face. Soft. Tender. Almost... hopeful?
"Don't you dare laugh at me, mister." I slap his chest. "I'm being serious here. Let me have my moment."
But he chuckles anyway. "I'm not laughing at you."
"You're literally laughing!"
"I'm laughing because last night, I wanted nothing more than to take you home. To keep you in my bed until this morning." His thumb brushes my cheekbone. "But I thought you wanted to keep things casual. No pressure, remember?"
My heart stutters.
"Piper, I'm going to let you in on a little secret." His eyes meet mine. "I'm not good at this stuff. The casual thing, the no-strings thing. I'm terrible at it. I catch feelings like other people catch colds. Fast and completely."
"Oh…"
"Yeah. Oh." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "So if you're scared because this feels like more than a weekend fling? Join the club. I've been terrified since approximately hour two of knowing you."
He glances at my phone, still grasped in my hand.
"But I also know you have to go home."
"I don't have to go right this second—"
"But you do have to go. And for me, this fear is all because…" He trails off and looks away, like he can't bring himself to say the words.
"What, Chase? Tell me."
"I just hope you come back."
The moment, the heat, the desperate need… it all evaporates like the mist of the waterfall.
Hope I come back?
I stare at him, genuinely confused. This gorgeous, kind, enthusiastic human thinks there's a universe where I wouldn't want to return?
What planet is he living on?
He stands, offering me his hand and pulling me up with him. "Come on. We've got time for one last stop before the airport."
And now, I'm left standing in borrowed flannel with damp panties and a heart that now suddenly feels three sizes too big for my chest.
We drive down the mountain and I watch Stone River scroll past the truck window as everyone wakes up. At a reasonable time.
It sucks I'm leaving.
We pass the tavern where we danced, the bookshop where he bought me a compass, the meadow where we had our picnic. Every landmark is a memory now, tucked away like treasures I'll pull out later when Chicago feels too empty.
Then Chase pulls up in front of the General Store, where the OPEN sign has just been flipped for the start of a new day.
"Last-minute souvenir shopping?"
"Sort of."
Inside, the store shelves overflow with everything from camping gear to homemade jam. There's even an entire wall dedicated to socks so fluffy they look like they were knitted by adorable woodland creatures.
I drift toward the socks, laughing at the variety of patterns. Bears in sunglasses, mountains wearing party hats, one pair that just says 'I HATE PEOPLE' in cheerfully bright letters.
"These are amazing."
"Right?" Chase appears beside me, holding up a pair with tiny rescue helicopters. "Knox has these. Travis has the ones with beer steins."
The store owner, Linda, then materializes like she's been waiting for this exact moment, her loud earrings jangling as she surveys me from head to toe.
"Honey. Honey. Those shoes."
"They're Prada?"
"They're a tragedy." She pulls out a measuring tape. "We don't sell heartbreak here, but we do fix poor life choices. Size?"
"She's a seven and a half," Chase answers, winking at me.
He knows my shoe size?! How the hell does he know my shoe size?!
Linda disappears into the back and returns with an armful of hiking boots in various shades. She kneels on the floor and starts measuring my foot with the loving judgment of a fairy godmother who's deeply disappointed in my previous choices.
Chase watches closely. "This is the best thing I've seen all week."
"Glad my footwear crisis entertains you."
Eventually, Linda emerges victorious with a pair of boots in deep teal with coral laces. They're actually really cute. Practical but adorable, exactly what this city girl didn't know she needed.
Chase kneels in front of me, and takes my foot in his hands, then guides it into the boot.
His fingers work the laces with the same focused intensity he used on the bandana, and I'm suddenly very aware that we're in public and I'm having extremely inappropriate thoughts about how close his face is to my… crotch.
"How's that feel?"
"Perfect."
He looks up, eyes warm. "Good. She'll take them, thanks, Linda."
I look over and Linda has piled the counter with plush socks, blister balm, and a care kit that looks like it could survive the apocalypse.
"Now you have everything you need to go live your best mountain fantasy, sweetheart," she winks at me and I feel my cheeks heat.
I pull out my credit card, but Linda waves it away.
"Taken care of dear," Linda says, looking over my shoulder to Chase who's wearing a smug-as-hell grin.
I feel my throat tighten and my hard-earned independence at stake. But there's no point in fighting him.
Outside, I stomp happily in my new boots, feeling ridiculously proud of myself.
But then I remember.
I'm not about to test them on a hiking trail. I'm not about to see more of these beautiful mountains.
I'm going to the airport. To board my flight back to Chicago.
The moment dips like a stone dropping into still water.
We head back to Brooke's cabin, load my suitcase in Chase's truck and pile back in. The truck is quiet on the drive, but Chase's hand still finds mine on the console.
At the airport, he pulls up to departures and cuts the engine.
Neither of us moves.
"Piper—"
"Don't." I turn to face him, memorizing the way sunlight catches in his hair, the exact shade of his eyes, the small scar on his jaw I never asked about. "Don't make this harder. Let's just say… see you later. Just like our agreement."
"Okay then."
He clears his throat, opens my door, and helps me out with the gentleness of someone handling something precious, not someone who's a 'weekends-only' convenience.
"See you later?" he says.
My fingers fist in his flannel, pulling him close. "Yes. You will."
The kiss tastes like goodbye and when we finally break apart, I'm breathless and aching and completely wrecked.
"See you Friday?" I whisper hopefully.
"I'll be right here waiting."
One more kiss. Quick and desperate, but not nearly enough to get me through the week ahead.
But I have to leave.
Before I cry.
I grab my suitcase and his flannel that I'm absolutely stealing, then walk through those sliding doors without looking back.