15. Love And Fresh Air
Chapter fifteen
Love And Fresh Air
Chloe
I can’t trust myself. Bottom line.
The past few days with Brody have been an absolute shitstorm, and despite my best efforts to nip the whole thing in the bud, it’s not happening. There’s no resisting. Every cell in my body lights up at the thought of him. It’s disgusting how fast I crumble.
I curl into myself at the end of the pier, arms draped over my knees. Crystal Heart Lake stretches out in front of me. Well, it was. Now it’s a blur as I replay every Brody-laced moment and wonder how I got into this mess.
Still, this helps. The quiet. The space. Five whole seconds without someone’s opinion hitting me in the face. Water laps lazily beneath me. Loons arguing somewhere in the distance. It’s actually peaceful.
Would be more peaceful if the whole damn town wasn’t one permit away from becoming a luxury-themed parking lot.
Footsteps barrel down the dock behind me, loud enough to shatter my very fragile bubble. If it’s another nosy neighbor looking to chat, I swear, I’m diving into the lake.
Head down. Don’t engage. Maybe they’ll go away .
“Chloe?”
I don’t have to look. One word and I know exactly who’s coming. I shift to catch them in the corner of my eye. Laney’s closing in fast, Harper on her heels with that dreaded serious-face she wears when she’s about to unleash wisdom no one asked for.
Fabulous. The emotional clean-up crew has arrived.
“What’re you guys doing here?” My body twists toward them, halfway to standing before Harper shuts it down with a raised hand.
She sets a picnic basket in front of me, no explanation, then drops onto the creaky planks, scooting closer until our arms almost touch. Laney sinks down on my other side, knees drawn up, her hip nudging mine.
“Guys? What’s going on?”
“Emergency girl meeting,” Harper says, pulling out three plastic tumblers and lining them up. Then a bottle of chilled wine. She starts pouring with practiced efficiency. Classic Harper. Every crisis deserves a little alcohol.
I groan. “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? I’m fine.”
“She told me everything.” Laney grabs two glasses and hands me one. “And after that suspicious disappearing act last night, you should understand why we’re not buying it.”
My shoulders slump. I stare at the sweating glass in my lap, wiping at the condensation with my thumb to keep my hands busy. Thought I was slick. Note to self, never try to ghost two best friends who majored in strategic snooping and minored in Chardonnay .
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah. That,” Harper leans in, all intent and laser focused. “This Brody thing has scrambled your brain. I’ve never seen you this spun out.”
“Not even after the shit–show that was Kyle MaKarthy in eleventh grade.” Laney sips her wine, smacking her lips together after. “You don’t lose it over guys. The fact it’s happening with him…”
“I’m not losing anything,” I argue, heat rising up my neck. Except maybe my mind, my willpower, and my last sliver of dignity, but technically, I’m still functioning. “I’ve handled it. Brody and I? It’s done. Finito. No more.”
“Good, because the stuff I’ve heard about that man…” Laney trails off, dragging it out.
I lean forward. “Wait, what have you heard?”
“Never mind what doesn’t concern you.” Harper jumps in. “I want to talk about the protest march. The last one had a good turnout, and I think more people are going to show up this time around.”
She’s annoying me. I mean, I know she has her heart in the right place, both of them do—but seriously? Brody gossip and we’re skipping to… logistics? I need to know what Laney was about to spill. The fact that she has dirt on Brody that I don’t. Unacceptable.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” I shoot Harper a look, trying not to sound like I’m two sips from flipping the picnic basket. Not quite succeeding.
She downs the last of her wine, with carefree defiance. “Amelia’s covering for me. I needed a break from unruly kids, and she offered.”
“Beautiful day for it.” Laney stretches her legs out and leans back, tilting her head up to the mid-morning sun.
They carry on their casual conversation while I try to stay focused. Chatting like I’m not sitting here, drowning in thoughts about Brody. But my mind? It’s locked in on Laney’s earlier comment, the one dangling right out of reach, and with Harper here, there’s no way I’m getting any more details.
Laney pulls out a small pouch of homemade caramels and holds it out. “I’ve been testing some new recipes for my kiosk. With the busy season approaching, I have to make sure everything’s perfect.” She hands the pouch to us. “You two can be my guinea pigs.”
Harper takes one, pops it in her mouth, and lets out an exaggerated moan. “These are sooo good. Seriously, you make the best candy in the world.”
Laney’s eyes light up. “One day, I’m going to have a whole chain of candy stores. But for now, my little kiosk needs to be ready for the holiday rush. It’s always crazy busy!”
I take one as well, rolling it on my tongue. Sweet, buttery, and with the perfect amount of salt to balance it out.
“Bet Brody never gave you candy,” Harper says, deadpan. “Unless you count that weak-ass charm.”
“He probably thinks caramel is something you get in a tanning bed,” Laney adds, smirking.
“Chloe!”
I whip around and hallelujah, it’s Krista. She’s waving me over from the lodge deck, and a spark of relief flickers in my chest. I shoot to my feet, brushing grass off my shorts like I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get away .
“Duty calls,” I say, already halfway up the dock.
“We’re not done with you.” Harper wags her finger at me. “But fine, for now. We’ll sit here, drink, and stew in our disappointment.”
Laney doesn’t blink. She’s wrist-deep in the basket, unwrapping a sandwich.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave her off and make my way toward the lodge. “File a complaint with HR.”
“Sorry to pull you away,” Krista says as I reach the deck.
Pull? Please. “You’re doing the Lord’s work,” I say, hopping up the steps. “What’s going on?”
But then she hesitates. That uncertain smile she flashes makes my stomach clench. “You might want to hold that gratitude.”
My skin goes cold.
“There’s a car waiting out front. Sent by Mr. Stirling.”
A dry swallow drags down my throat, and my heart drops to my feet.
“Mr. Stirling?” The words fall out before I can stop them. My heart’s already trying to launch itself through my ribcage. No way. He wouldn’t, after last night?
But Krista shakes her head fast, eyes wide. “No, not him. His driver. Said you’ve got a scheduled tour of Stirling Tech this afternoon?”
Tour?
There’s no tour.
I didn’t schedule anything. Unless I somehow rage-RSVPed in my sleep, this has sabotage written all over it. If I step foot inside Stirling Tech, I might as well hand out flyers reading: “Chloe Adams— Official Sellout .”
Glancing back at the pier, Laney and Harper are still sitting there, laughing like they’re not currently conspiring to ruin my social life.
Their “don’t go near Brody” warning is still ringing in my ears, but at this point, it’s not about me.
If anyone sees me near his office? I’ll be strung up in the town square by sundown.
“Chloe? Hello?”
Krista’s waving her hand in front of my face like I’ve short-circuited. Which, to be fair, feels accurate. She’s smiling when I finally snap out of it.
“Tell the driver I’m sorry for wasting his time, but I won’t be going to Stirling Tech with him.” No way in hell.
My voice sounds more confident than I feel.
Still, guilt creeps in, curling hot at the base of my neck.
Why do I feel bad? I’m the one who told Brody we needed to keep things professional.
Maybe this is him trying, offering some formal peace treaty built from polished steel and boardroom charm.
A small part of me knows there might be a legit reason to go.
“Okay…” Krista’s voice is careful now, too careful. She starts to turn, then hesitates.
“Are you sure?” Her brows pull together, chipping away at my last shred of confidence.
Don’t ask me that. I’m already halfway to self-destruction as it is.
“Why do you ask?” Stupid. I should’ve kept walking. Should’ve said no and meant it. But here we are, me and my mouth, sinking together.
Krista shrugs. “I don’t know. Just thought maybe it’s smart to see what’s behind enemy lines. Maybe it’ll help our stance.”
“Enemy lines?” I laugh, nerves bubbling under the surface. My fingers gather my hair into a ponytail. Battle prep, apparently. Ponytail of courage . I act like I’m mulling it over, but I’m already mentally scanning my outfit.
Brown overalls. Flip-flops. One pitchfork short of a country-themed board meeting.
Screw it.
“I’ll go,” I say, lifting my chin like I’ve made some grand, noble decision. For the greater good, of course.
Krista nods, satisfied, and disappears into the lodge.
Too late to back out now.
The drive is quiet. The driver doesn’t speak, and I don’t try. By the time we pull up, I’m craning my neck to take it all in.
Brody’s HQ towers above the trees, all gleaming quartzite and cold steel. It’s massive. Modern. Shiny in that obnoxious, moneyed way. A monument to not even pretending to care about fitting in.
“He didn’t try,” I mumble under my breath.
The driver hops out, opens my door, and flashes a practiced smile as he gestures for me to follow.
I step out, adjusting my straps like I belong here and not one awkward sentence away from having an identity crisis.
Then I walk inside.
Holy. Shit.
“Welcome to the future, Miss Adams.”
Brody’s standing front and center, grinning like this is his grand reveal. Arms wide. Whole body lit up with that smug, showman energy. I half-expect him to burst into song and offer me a guided tour with pyrotechnics .
His voice oozes fake formality, like I’m supposed to fall over myself with gratitude for being let into his glass kingdom.
Am I meant to swoon ? Is that the plan here?