Chapter Twenty-Two
CHASE
Friday
Dax and I have spent all week organizing. It’s been a challenging task to recruit the right people for phase three, but we’ve managed to secure what we need. After Monday’s notes, I was eager to get this underway, but the planning took time. It has taken me four days to make another move.
I haven’t given up on her.
The fact is, I will never give up.
Whether she knows that or not is a moot point.
I know I’m fighting.
I know I’m putting in the effort.
She might not want me, she might not like me very much, but I love her, and I’m going to do everything, within reason, I can to get her back.
Today’s the big day.
I have a feeling in my gut that phase three will be the one to unravel her. To really break the anger she’s holding onto, maybe even crack the walls just enough for me to make my move and slip inside.
Now comes the ultimate trial—waiting.
Dax and I sit low in his car, parked just far enough down the street to avoid being clocked, but with a clear view of her front yard.
My eyes stay locked on her driveway like I’m lining up a target.
The setup is perfect. I made damn sure of that.
Eight golden retriever puppies, full of fluff and chaos, romping around a portable playpen like they own the place.
A handler sits in the middle, some college kid whose father owes me a favor, keeping the little fur missiles occupied until the main event.
It’s the kind of gesture a Hallmark hero would make. Yeah, she calls me that, but this isn’t some cheesy flick. No, this is me, pulling out every stop to remind her what it felt like to smile without walls, to laugh without looking over her shoulder.
Her truck turns onto the street. Every muscle tenses as she sweeps past us. My pulse slows, not from calm, but focus. I lean forward, one arm braced against the dash, my jaw grinding as anticipation coils low in my gut.
She pulls into her driveway and steps out of her truck, slow and cautious, like she doesn’t quite trust what she’s seeing. Her gaze locks on the playpen, brows knitting together in suspicion as the puppies launch themselves toward her with wobbly legs and sloppy tongues.
She glances down the street, checking her surroundings, probably trying to figure out who’s behind this ambush of fluff. Although she has to know by now it’s me. Dax’s car blends in with the line of others, and from her angle, we’re just another shadow.
Lyric walks over to the handler. Her shoulders are tight, and every movement is rigid. I sit up straighter, a knot forming in my gut as she shakes her head like she’s annoyed.
“What the fuck…” I mutter under my breath, watching her like a hawk.
There’s no smile. No softening. No cracking at the sight of eight tail-wagging distractions. Instead, she spins on her heel, marches into her house, and slams the door behind her without a single glance back.
The blow hits harder than I expect, and I raise my brows.
My chest caves inward as disappointment claws through me.
The sting of rejection prickles hotter than I want to admit.
I’d banked on this soft spot of hers, on her love for animals, for Polly, for the simple things.
I thought maybe this would be the one thing to thaw her defenses.
I was wrong.
Maybe I’ve already pushed too far.
Maybe enough is enough.
My hands flex through my hair, restless with frustration. I clench my jaw to keep from letting the string of curses inside me loose. Because the truth is, I don’t have a Plan D.
I look over at Dax, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know what happened,” I mutter, staring through the windshield like it’ll give me answers. “I was sure she’d melt for the puppies… melt for me.”
But the only one melting right now is any chance I had.
Because watching her walk away from all that joy like it meant nothing?
That fucking hurt.
Dax nudges me hard in the ribs. “Wait… she’s coming back.”
I snap my gaze to the front of her house.
The door swings open and out walks Lyric—barefoot, her handbag nowhere in sight.
My pulse kicks as she ditches the armor.
The heels. The pretense. And she’s walking straight toward the playpen.
Lyric doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t second-guess.
She steps over the edge of the enclosure with a kind of softness I haven’t seen from her in weeks.
The moment she sinks into the sea of golden fur, the pups launch like heat-seeking missiles, yipping and pawing and crawling up her legs like she’s their long-lost pack leader.
And then, fuck me, she smiles.
Not that tight, forced thing she’s been wearing lately, but the real deal. Her whole face lifts. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, the corners of her mouth tipping up as if sunshine finally found its way back into her life.
My heart cracks wide open at the sight of that smile. It guts me. Fills me up. Wrecks me in the best way. Because I did that, I gave her this moment, this bubble of happiness she didn’t expect and maybe didn’t think she deserved.
I can’t take my eyes off her. Her head tilts back, a roar of unbridled laughter erupting from her delectable lips as a puppy climbs into her lap, trying to eat her hair.
Another crawls up her chest and starts licking her jaw, and she lets it happen, arms open, heart wide, taking in all the puppy love.
My hands clench into fists in my lap, not from frustration this time, but from trying to keep myself rooted. Every instinct in me wants to go to Lyric. To drop into that playpen, wrap my arms around her, and bury my face in her neck while those damn puppies use us both as a jungle gym.
Dax lets out a low whistle. “Well, shit, man. That’s a win if I’ve ever seen one.”
But I don’t answer.
I can’t.
Because right now, all I can think about is how brilliant it feels to witness her like this in her element.
Happy. Soft. Unburdened.
And knowing I had something to do with that?
That’s everything.
The puppies crowd, making her fall onto her back. She giggles when they jump all over her, licking her face as she rolls around with them while the handler tries to pull some off her.
Dax lets out a low whistle, arms crossed as he watches Lyric. “You’re really in deep with her, huh?”
I drag my eyes off her, reluctantly. “No shit. You just figured that out now?”
He shrugs, that shit-eating grin creeping onto his face. “Wasn’t doubting it. But damn, man, the way you’re looking at her? If you stared any harder, you’d knock her up from across the street.”
I snort. “Keep talking, Romeo. Maybe I’ll get you a gift basket and some puppy therapy too.”
He laughs, bumping my arm. “Nah, I’m good. But for real, I’ve never seen you like this. You used to be Mr. Hit It and Vanish.”
“And now I’m Mr. Stay the Fuck Put,” I say, my voice low as I glance back at her. “Didn’t plan it. Didn’t see it coming. But Lyri’s it. She’s the only woman I will ever want.”
Dax whistles again. “Damn. Look at you, all grown up. Next thing I know, you’ll be quoting those Hallmark movies she keeps comparing you to and crying into your protein shake.”
I roll my eyes, smirking. “Say that again and I’ll shove that shake up your ass.”
He chuckles. “There’s my guy, there’s still a shred of you left in there.”
I grin, but it fades as I watch Lyric again, surrounded by puppies and smiling like she’s having the time of her life. “Yeah… I’m all in. There’s no backing out now. I’m fully committed. But I’ve never seen you committed before, either, Dax. I guess that’s what I was trying to say the other day.”
“It’s not a good look on me, but you do make it seem appealing. Dammit, Chase, your pussy-whipped ways are turning me into a pussy, too. Pull your shit together, man!”
Smirking, I turn back to Lyric, who’s picking up one of the puppies and cuddling it, petting its fur. She seems more than content right now.
Phase three seems like it was a great idea.
Maybe now I can make my move.
She’ll have to know this was from me. I mean, who else would have set up a puppy-petting zoo in her front yard?
I exhale through my nose, trying to steady the riot inside me. “I’m going in.”
Dax straightens in his seat, his brow creasing. “You really think it’s a good idea? Going in so soon?”
“Look at her,” I say, my eyes locked on Lyric. She’s laughing, her face lit with something I haven’t seen in too long. “She’s happy.”
“Exactly.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s trying to talk sense into a ticking bomb. “You want her to stay in that mood. Keep the momentum going. Trust me on this, Chase.”
I do trust him. He’s been solid through every move of this plan.
But my chest aches with the weight of how badly I need to be near her.
The pull is primal, physical, a craving that burrows under my skin and leaves me feeling unhinged.
“I have to see her, Dax. Just for a second. She’s laughing, smiling… maybe she’ll let me in.”
“Too soon, Chase,” he mutters, his tone edging toward pleading. “I’m telling you.”
But I’m already gripping the door handle, his voice muffled by the rush of blood pounding in my ears.
My body moves before my brain can stop it.
Every step toward her feels like pushing through thick cement, as if my whole nervous system is on high alert, firing with tension, hope, and fear all at once.
My boots crunch over the gravel when I approach the pen.
She doesn’t notice me at first, being too caught up in the chaos of eight puppies crawling over her lap.
But one golden retriever pup bounds toward me with that clumsy, tail-wagging energy, and when I crouch down to pet it, Lyric lifts her head.
Our eyes lock.
And in an instant, everything shifts.