Chapter 19 #2
Piper: I miss you. Sorry we didn't hang out more while I was there. Call me at lunch?
Piper: Alright. Final fitting in an hour. Wish me luck!!!
Piper: I'm wearing them. Thanks for the push, I need that. (winking emoji)
The last message was sent two hours ago, and there's a photo attached.
I open it.
It's a mirror selfie she's taken from a boutique dressing room.
She's wearing a dress, and the dress is... fuck.
It's hot as hell. Simple, but still hugs every curve, shows just enough cleavage that my brain short-circuits. She looks like a million bucks. Sophisticated, polished, completely out of my league.
My chest does something complicated.
"She's been texting me all week," Brooke says quietly. "Chase, she doesn't want to go to that gala. She wants to be here."
"Then why isn't she?"
"Because she's terrified." Brooke takes her phone back, snatching it from my grasp.
"Her whole life, she's been the perfect daughter.
Perfect grades, perfect career, perfect everything.
And you—" She points at me, shoving her finger in my chest so hard it hurts.
"You're the first thing she's ever chosen just because she wanted it.
Not because it looked good. Or made her parents happy.
Or fit some plan. Just because it made her happy. "
Travis has finally stopped eating. Knox is staring at his beer like it holds the secrets of the universe. Jamie just winces with every jab his girlfriend stabs into my chest.
"She's choosing Chicago," I say, but it sounds weak even to me.
"She's scared of choosing you and losing everything else." Brooke leans forward, an inch away from my face. "There's a difference."
I think about Sunday morning. The way Piper's face shuttered when I laid down the ultimatum. The way she walked into the terminal without looking back.
I thought she was choosing her parents, her city life, the world she came from.
What if she was just choosing the only thing she knew how to choose?
"Shit…" I say quietly, shaking my head. "I fucked up."
"Yep," Travis agrees, shoving a mouthful of nachos back in his mouth now some of the tension has eased.
"Massively," Knox adds.
Jamie just looks at me. "What are you going to do about it?"
Before I can answer, Charlie appears at the table with a cocktail in his hand. It's pink and fruity with entirely too many garnishes.
"Couldn't help but overhear." He takes a long sip through a tiny umbrella straw. "And I think you're being a stubborn asshole."
"Thanks, Charlie."
"You're welcome." He takes another sip. "Now stop sulking and go get your girl."
I blink. "What?"
"The gala." Charlie sets down his drink and pulls out his phone. "I've been looking it up while you lots bickered in my bar. The Whitman Foundation Gala. It starts at seven tomorrow night. That's six our time. If you leave now, you'd make it."
"I can't just—"
"Why not?" Knox straightens. "You've got a truck. You've got a suit—"
"I don't have a suit."
"Jamie's got a suit," Travis interjects. "You're about the same size."
Jamie nods. "Closet's open, my man."
"And you've got a girl who's currently standing in a boutique with a ball gown on because she's trying to hold onto a piece of you while her mother probably has an aneurysm." Brooke crosses her arms. "So yeah, Chase. Go get her."
My heart's pounding now, adrenaline kicking in the way it does before a rescue.
"It's a seven-hour drive—"
"Four and a half if you speed," Knox says helpfully.
"I don't even know where—"
Brooke's already texting. "I'm sending you the address."
"What if she doesn't want—"
"Oh my God." Travis throws a nacho at me. It hits my chest, leaving a grease stain on my favorite flannel. "Stop making excuses and go!"
Charlie disappears behind the bar and returns thirty seconds later with a insulated bag that's usually meant for catering orders. He sets it on the table and slaps me on the back.
"Brisket, pasta salad, chocolate brownie, and a thermos of coffee." He zips the bag closed. "You're not driving seven hours on an empty stomach."
I stare at the bag.
Then at Charlie, who's sipping his ridiculous cocktail like he orchestrates romantic grand gestures every Friday night.
Then at my friends—my family—who are all watching me with expressions that range from exasperated (Brooke) to encouraging (Jamie) to gleefully invested (Travis and Knox).
"I can't just crash a charity gala—"
"You absolutely can," Brooke says. "I'm texting you the details now. Whitman Foundation Annual Gala, some fancy hotel ballroom, black tie required."
"I don't have—"
"Jamie's suit," Knox repeats. "We've established this."
Jamie stands, finishing his beer. "The suit is hanging in my closet. Grab it on your way out of town."
"Isn't your cabin locked?"
Everyone bursts out laughing, and for the first time all week, I manage to smile too.
"Locked?! In Stone River?" Charlie wipes his eyes, grinning. "Buddy, the only thing locked around here is Betty's cookie jar, and that's just to keep Travis out!"
"Fair," Travis admits, nodding.
"Chase." Jamie's voice cuts through my spiraling. He steps closer, gripping my shoulder the way he does before sending someone into a dangerous rescue. "Stop overthinking. Just be yourself."
The words hit different than they did at Fox Hollow, back when I first started to doubt this would ever work.
Just be yourself.
Not the guy who washed out of basic training. Not the guy whose family left. Not the guy who's never been anyone's first choice.
Just... me.
I look at Jamie. "You sure about the suit?"
"Positive."
I grab the travel bag from Charlie and make for the front door. "Thanks, man."
"Anytime." He raises his cocktail in a salute. "Now, go! And bring our girl back!"
Travis claps me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth. "And for God's sake, tell her you love her this time!"
My face heats as Betty, Etta and Mabel all cheer from the other side of the room. "I never told you I loved her."
"You didn't have to," Knox says. "We have eyes."
I check my phone and Brooke's sent me the address.
Brooke: Seventh floor ballroom. Valet parking. Don't let them intimidate you.
I smile across the room at her and head for the door.
Behind me, the tavern erupts. I head into the parking lot, the cold night air hitting my face like a slap. My truck is parked under the street lights.
I climb in, toss Charlie's food bag on the passenger seat, and start the engine.
I've got one night to drive across state lines, find a hotel ballroom full of people who probably think mountain rescue is something you do with Saint Bernards, and convince the woman I love that she doesn't have to choose between her family and her happiness.
That she can have both.
That she deserves both.
I pull out of the parking lot, and in the rearview mirror, I can see them all standing in the doorway of Timber Tavern. Jamie and Brooke, Knox and Travis, Charlie with his ridiculous cocktail, Betty and the gossips all waving like I'm heading off to war.
My family.
The people who didn't leave.
The people who are sending me to fight for the person I want to keep.
Hold on, Piper. I'm coming.