Chapter 22
Iwake up to find Chase hovering over us.
I don’t know how long he’s been standing there.
It’s bright out, dawn, but the fire is still burning.
With a start, I realize that I fell asleep leaning up against Maverick, his arm wrapped around the small of my back, keeping me there instead of my head dropping down in his lap to use his thigh as a pillow.
You’d think Chase would be glad that I didn’t wake up with my face inches away from another man’s crotch—and if you think that, you haven’t been paying attention. Jealousy has his features going tight as he peers down at me with a pained look in his pretty blue eyes.
“Chase?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows roughly. “It’s morning. I’ll be ready to head out when you are. Just thought you should know.”
Before I can respond, he turns on his heel, striding back to where he left the rumpled blanket and my abandoned sleeping bag.
Honestly? What could I really say? I know what it looks like, but if he’s been traveling with us for this long already and still thinks there’s something brewing between me and Mav, then nothing I can say will convince Chase to give up on his jealousy.
Especially when he has no reason to be jealous at all.
Still, I glance over at Maverick, wordlessly asking for an explanation. If it’s morning—and the sun overhead tells me that it is—then we should’ve already been up and breaking down the campsite.
He shrugs. “You seemed so peaceful. Chase was snoring up until a few minutes ago. I figured I could let you two rest a little longer. The sun’s only just coming up.”
It was a kindness that would’ve been a whole lot kinder if Maverick had poked me in the side, waking me up before Chase figured out that I spent the night as far away from him as I could.
That pained look is branded in my brain. I can’t let him walk away like that.
I get up, leaving Maverick to tend to the fire while I tentatively approach Chase. He’s bending over, grabbing my sleeping bag, ready to roll it up. The blanket I placed on top of him is already folded neatly and placed by my abandoned pack.
At first, I think he’s just busying himself with getting ready to head out…
and that’s when I see him struggling to roll up the sleeping bag.
Of course he’s having trouble. I mean, it can’t be easy with the way his hands are trembling so viciously, the handcuff bracelet is knocking against his wrist bone.
Ah, fuck. If those were angry shakes, I could deal. It would be easy to remind Chase that he’s being ridiculous, that he has no reason to be angry.
But they’re not angry shakes, are they?
Oh, no. I’m way too familiar with how a body responds to being emotionally beaten not to recognize how Chase is reacting right now.
Damn it. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.
I warned him when we left East Jersey that he needed to keep his distance; as difficult as it would be while we were traveling, we needed our space from each other.
That’s the only way this would work. And, except for the last time he called me by my twin’s name, I thought we were doing all right.
Sure, I falter from time to time—like last night, when I had the urge to stroke his hair while he was sleeping—but never when he could tell.
That’s when it hits me that Chase… he’s trying. That’s why he turned his back on me, that’s why he’s busying himself with folding our borrowed bedding. He doesn’t want me to see how much he’s struggling.
I do us both a favor and walk away.
Maverick is careful not to look back at us.
He starts rolling up the bedroll he never returned to last night, going as slow as he possibly can.
With Chase tending to my sleeping bag, I use the rest of our water to put out the fire.
It sizzles and fights against the flood, but the water wins in the end.
Pale grey smoke floats up in the pinkish light of dawn.
I don’t realize that I’m standing there, staring at the wisps of smoke as they fade away until I hear—
“Holden?”
It’s Chase who calls for me. He’s standing about five feet away from me, the point in the triangle we’ve unconsciously constructed: Maverick to my right, Chase across the smoldering remains of the fire.
He’s holding his blanket close to his chest, kneading the fleece so tightly with his fingers that his knuckles have gone white with the force. When he speaks, though, he sounds calm and sure, as if he’s made up his mind about something. “Do you… Hey. Can I talk to you?”
I freeze, unsure how I want to respond.
No. That’s not true. One part of me wants to pretend I didn’t hear him and continue to get ready to leave. The other part? It’s almost willing to do anything to bring the light back to his eyes.
Maverick clears his throat.
“I’m going to go scout ahead a bit, see if I can find some water.
I think I’ll feel a bit more awake after a quick splash in a lake or a stream.
If not that, I’ll check for signs of lurkers in the next neighborhood.
” He pauses as if he’s going to say one thing before deciding against it and going with another. “Wait for me here. I’ll be right back.”
I want to go after him. I certainly don’t want to be left alone with Chase, not when he looks like I’ve clawed open his chest, used my dirty fingernails to rip out his heart, then stomped on it with my boots. But, hey, what else can I do?
Tucking my messy hair behind my ears, I nod, then take the blanket from him before his worried fingers rip a hole right through the material. I set it on the ground before waiting for him to talk.
Chase’s fingers are still anxious. Without the blanket, he starts playing with a dime-sized hole on the hem of his t-shirt. I frown. How much do you want to bet that that hole wasn’t there last night?
He exhales, careful not to meet my eyes. “So, I was thinking… you’re right. Maybe it’s time I go back to the Grave. Let Jack know everything’s under control.”
Glancing down now, he stares at the grass, flattened from where we were both sleeping last night before I woke up and joined Maverick for his part of the watch, completely sleeping through mine.
I follow the direction of his stare. I can see the curved shape where Chase had slept, and there, not more than a foot away, a pressed square, the size of my sleeping bag.
Should he go? Right after we broke out of East Jersey, I would’ve been delighted to see the back of him.
Something’s different now… something’s changed.
I could say it’s as simple as I got used to him, and I like the idea of having another set of eyes to keep watch for lurkers, but it’s more than that.
I just wish I could admit to myself what it is…
Shoving my hands in the pockets of Rory’s jacket, I fiddle with my folded knife.
“If you feel that,” I begin before stopping abruptly.
I clench my left hand into a fist inside the pocket.
“You know what. No.” I relax my fingers, pull my hand out, and reach for Chase.
I think he’s almost as shocked as I am that I boldly grab his arm.
This is the first time I’ve made contact with him instead of pointedly ignoring how often he finds excuses to touch me, and we both know it.
His head picks up, surprise written in his eyes. Good. I’ll take that over the pain any day.
That gives me the boost I need to be honest with him.
“No, Chase,” I tell him before I lose the nerve. “You have to stay.”
“Why?” He bites down on his bottom lip before a short, bitter laugh escapes him. He throws his free hand up in the air. “C’mon, Holden. You know the old saying: two’s company, three’s a crowd.”
“It’s not like that,” I argue.
“Really? Then what is it?”
It’s his tone. So different than anything I’m used to when it comes to Chase Knight, it puts my back right up.
“Does it matter? It’s not like I’m the one you were engaged to.”
Holy hell. I regret the words the instant they’re out of my mouth, but it’s too late to take them back. A dark shadow flashes across his face in the morning light, quickly replaced by one of resignation.
Somehow, that’s almost worse than the hurt.
I’m suddenly reminded of the last argument we had before I left with Maverick. Chase and I standing on the front porch of the Grave, me secretly jealous of Audrey, Chase kissing me, afraid of letting me go... it’s all happening again, but we’re playing opposite roles this time.
What would he do if I gave in to my need for him, grabbed his face, and kissed him? Would it erase what I just said—or would it only make things worse?
I huff out a breath. “Shit, Chase. I’m sorry. That was fucked up of me. I… I shouldn’t have said that.”
“But did you mean it?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t think he expected me to.
“Forget it. I pushed you too fucking hard and I know that. If I have anyone to blame, it’s me.”
Forget it? I don’t think I can, but for his sake, I’ll try.
“Okay. I will, but you have to stay. Please? We’re so close. Maverick says—”
Chase snorts under his breath. “Maverick.”
Oh, yeah. There’s still bad blood there, isn’t it? “He just wants to kill the lurkers. Isn’t that what you want to do? Isn’t that why you came after us?”
The look Chase gives me says that he knows as well as I do that I’m full of shit. He doesn’t have to use his words, but we both know exactly why he’s come this far out of the Grave—and it has nothing to do with lurkers for Chase Knight.
He’s here for me. And if I say I need him here with me, there isn’t anywhere else he’ll go.
But can I say that?
“Chase—”
He takes a step toward me. It takes everything I have not to match it, moving away from him so that I don’t say “fuck it” and throw myself at him.
He can tell. From the way I’m all but hugging myself inside of Rory’s jacket to how I’m watching him on bated breath… he doesn’t know me as well as he did Hallie, but we’ve been friends since elementary school. He knows me enough.