Collide Into Ruin

Chapter Twelve Cross Wires

After freshening up a bit after her date, the young brunette felt like she was on cloud nine. Emilia leaned back against the plush pillows of her bed, staring at the text on her screen. Henry was eager-like a kid pressing his nose to the glass of a candy store, eyes wide with excitement. He wanted to marry her, and it wasn't just talk. He was serious, and that should have been terrifying. But instead, it made her stomach flip in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

She could like him. Really like him.

That thought settled over her like a warm breeze on a cool evening, gentle but undeniable. Henry was kind, charming, and clearly devoted to her. He had that easy confidence, the kind that made her feel safe but also a little breathless. Maybe, just maybe, she could let herself fall for him.

But then, like an uninvited guest, Chase waltzed into her mind.

Ugh. She groaned and flopped onto her side, pressing her face into the pillow as if that could smother the memories of him. The way he laughed, the way he always knew exactly how to push her buttons. The way he made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating all at once.

She argued with herself. The best way to get over someone is to be with someone else, right? That's what people said. That's what she should do.

Her conscience cleared its throat.

"Uh-huh. Because rebounding always ends well," it said, unimpressed. "Want me to fetch you a disaster survival guide now or later?"

"Oh, shut up," she muttered to no one but herself.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her heart did an odd little somersault at Henry's last message. He deserved a response. A flirty one. A fun one. The kind that would wipe away any doubts in her mind, even if just for tonight.

She typed quickly, her fingers flying over the screen.

His reply came almost instantly.

She smirked, biting her lip.

Her heart kicked against her ribs. This was good. This was safe. Henry made her feel wanted in a way that didn't come with complications or ghosts of the past.

She hesitated. For a second, just a second, the teasing fell away. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as warmth spread through her chest. No one had ever said something like that to her before—not in a way that felt real.

This time, he took a beat before responding.

Her breath hitched. Shit. That was not just flirting. That was something else—something bigger, weightier, real. And for the first time in a long time, instead of pushing it away, she let herself feel it.

She typed, slower this time.

She hit send, exhaling as a rush of excitement ran through her. Maybe, just maybe, Henry was exactly what she needed to finally move on.

Henry stared at his phone, lips curving into a slow, satisfied grin. Emilia had him wrapped around her little finger, and he wasn't even mad about it. She was unlike anyone he'd ever met—sharp, witty, and capable of keeping him on his toes.

There was something magnetic about her, something that made him feel as though he was being pulled into a gravity he had no desire to resist. Every conversation was an adventure, full of twists and turns he never saw coming. Never a dull moment.

But it wasn't just the banter. It was the way she let herself soften, just for a second. The way she challenged him, but also let him in.

He was in trouble.

Big, big trouble.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair before typing out his next message.

A pause, then a reply.

His chest tightened, but in a good way. A really good way.

He grinned, waiting for her response, already anticipating her sass.

Henry chuckled, shaking his head. He could already picture her teasing smirk. But underneath it, he knew—this was something different.

This was the beginning of something that could actually matter.

With a final glance at his phone, he set it down, feeling warmth spread through his chest.

Emilia did the same, her lips curving into a soft smile as she nestled into her pillows. And as they both drifted off to sleep, their thoughts were filled with each other, anticipation humming between them like a song waiting to be played.

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Chase sat in the stiff hospital chair, his head resting in his hands as he stared blankly at the floor. The low hum of machines filled the quiet room, the occasional beep reminding him that Hallie was still here, still breathing. He should have felt relief. He should have felt something other than this unbearable, gnawing weight in his chest.

But all he could see was Emilia's face. The way her expression had crumbled when he tried to explain. The hurt in her eyes, the way she took a step back like he'd physically struck her.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. God. He hated this. Hated himself for agreeing to stay, for letting Hallie pull him into something that—for once—wasn't his responsibility.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? It was his responsibility. Or at least, it always had been.

There was a code he lived by, one that had been etched into his bones since he was a kid. Protect Hallie. Always. She was his first love, his childhood best friend, the girl he used to dream about before he even knew what love really was. And no matter what happened, no matter who he became or who he loved now, he had never stopped feeling like he owed her something.

So when she had asked him to stay, when she had looked at him with those tired, pleading eyes, he hadn't hesitated. He'd said yes. Because that's what he did. That's what he always did.

And now, here he was. In a hospital room. Sitting in the dark. Losing the one person who actually made him feel like himself.

His jaw clenched as he glanced toward the bed. Hallie was fast asleep, her breathing even, her body finally at rest after everything she had been through. The nurses had even given him a bed, told him to get some sleep, but he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Because every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Emilia walking away.

His fingers curled into fists. Why the hell did I do this?

He should have said no. Should have drawn a line. Should not have had sex with her. Should have told Hallie that she didn't need him like this anymore.

But instead, he had done what he always did.

And it had cost him the woman he loved.

The realization made his stomach twist. Love. He loved her. He loved Emilia. And he had let her slip away because of some unspoken rule he wasn't even sure mattered anymore.

Chase rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing with ways to fix this. To make her understand. But how? How did he look Emilia in the eye and tell her that she wasn't just another person in his life—she was the person? How did he explain that staying here with Hallie wasn't about love or unfinished feelings, but about some deep-rooted obligation he didn't know how to shake?

Would she even believe him?

Could he blame her if she didn't?

His throat tightened, frustration and regret clawing at his ribs. God, I hate this. He hated feeling like he was trapped between two versions of himself—the man who had always been Hallie's protector and the man who wanted, desperately, to be Emilia's.

Something had to change.

Because for the first time in his life, Chase wasn't sure he could live with the consequences of his choices. Not if it meant losing Emilia for good.

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Hallie's jaw clenched as she stared at the woman adjusting the monitors beside her bed. Yanique, she thought her name was. Some fresh-faced, overly professional nurse who had replaced her.

Emilia was gone.

The realization sent a sharp, seething satisfaction through her. She wished she had been there to see it—the moment the color drained from Emilia's face, the moment she realized she couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle her. But even without witnessing it firsthand, Hallie knew exactly how it must have looked. Emilia ran. Just like she wanted.

A slow, smug smirk curled at the edges of her lips.

Good.

She didn't love Chase. She never had, not really. But that had never mattered. Chase had always been hers, always loyal, always the one who would come running when she called. He was the only constant in her life, the only one who had never left, no matter how many others had. And she wasn't about to lose that to some self-righteous woman who thought she could change him.

Chase was meant to follow her. That's how it had always been.

Her fingers drifted down, tracing gentle circles over her five-month-old bump. The baby kicked faintly in response, and Hallie's expression softened, just for a second. "It's okay, little one," she murmured, voice dripping with sickly-sweet affection. "Mommy will give you the best life."

But she needed Chase to do it.

She had noticed it yesterday—the way he had looked at her, torn, his mind clearly somewhere else. And then, just like that, he had bolted. Probably to see her. Probably to grovel at Emilia's feet like the desperate little puppy he was. Pathetic.

But when he came back, there had been something off about him. Guilt? Regret? Maybe even realization? She needed to stamp that out now, before he made the mistake of pulling away.

She waited until nightfall, waited until she knew the exhaustion and the weight of the day had settled into his bones. She had asked him to stay—of course she had. She knew Chase would never say no.

And now, here he was. Sitting beside her, his face drawn, his hands clasped between his knees, staring at the floor like it held the answers to a question he was too scared to ask.

Hallie swallowed down a smirk.

Now's the time.

She reached out, her fingers brushing over his knuckles, her touch featherlight. "Chase?" Her voice was soft, vulnerable—the perfect mixture of fear and fragility. "Can we talk?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hallie, I—"

"I know you saw Emilia." She cut him off gently, her voice laced with understanding. "And I know she's upset. I could see it all over your face when you came back."

His shoulders tensed. "Hallie—"

"I don't want to fight with you about her." She let her eyes drop, voice trembling just enough to sound real. "I just—I need to ask you something."

Chase's jaw flexed, but he nodded. "What is it?"

She hesitated, just for a second, as if she was gathering the courage to say something impossible. And then she let her breath shudder out, her hand ghosting over her stomach. "I'm scared."

His head snapped up, concern flashing across his face like she knew it would. Hook, line, and sinker.

"I don't know what he's going to do," she whispered, curling into herself. "I don't know if I'll ever be safe. But I know one thing." She turned to him, eyes wide, shimmering. "I feel safe when you're here."

Chase swallowed, hard. "Hallie, I—"

She shook her head quickly. "Please, just—don't tell me it's not your problem. You know him, you know what he's capable of. What if he comes back? What if he tries to take the baby? I can't do this alone." Her voice cracked at the end, and she pressed a hand to her lips like she was trying to keep herself together.

She didn't miss the way Chase's whole body went rigid. The way his fingers twitched, his protective instincts roaring to the surface like she knew they would.

Got him.

"I know you care about Emilia," she whispered, forcing her voice to break just slightly, just enough to drive the knife in. "But if she's already upset... if she already thinks you've chosen me... then why make it worse?" She reached for his hand, gripping it like he was the only thing keeping her afloat. "I need you, Chase. We need you."

The silence stretched between them, thick, suffocating.

And then, finally, she saw it—the resignation in his eyes. The guilt. The war inside of him breaking, shattering.

Chase exhaled slowly, staring at their intertwined hands. He didn't pull away.

Hallie squeezed just a little tighter, fighting the satisfied smirk threatening to surface.

He was staying.

Just like he always did

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The evening air was warm, the sky painted in soft hues of lavender and gold as Emilia and Henry sat on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The sound of waves rolling against the shore filled the quiet space between them, and for a moment, Emilia let herself bask in the comfort of Henry's presence. He was easy to be around, effortless in a way that made her heart feel both lighter and more aware of its own rhythm.

She hadn't expected this. Not after everything. Not after Chase. And yet, here she was, allowing herself to be happy. Henry made it easy. He was thoughtful in a way that didn't feel performative—he just saw her. Like how he remembered exactly how she liked her tea, or how he'd pull her into his side when he sensed she was tired. He listened, really listened, and she wasn't used to that.

And then there was the way he looked at her. Like she was something worth treasuring.

It had been three weeks since Emilia and Henry's first date, and somehow, without either of them explicitly saying it, they had fallen into something easy, something warm. They weren't officially together—not yet—but it felt inevitable.

Henry, on the other hand, was completely, irreversibly smitten. He hadn't meant for it to happen so fast, but Emilia had this way of sneaking past all his defenses. It wasn't just that she was beautiful—though, God, she was. It was her laughter, the way she wrinkled her nose when she was concentrating, the way she made him feel like he belonged, even when they were just eating greasy diner food at midnight.

He loved their conversations, the way they could jump from ridiculous hypotheticals to something deeply personal in a matter of minutes. He loved the way she teased him, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention.

Most of all, he loved the feeling of next.

Because that's what this was—one moment leading to the next, one step closer, without either of them rushing. It was the kind of slow burn that didn't hurt, the kind that built something steady and real.

And he wanted it to last.

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Emilia found herself smiling at her phone more often than she cared to admit, rereading their messages, reliving moments of laughter and quiet glances. They texted constantly, sharing everything from the mundane details of their day to the deeper thoughts they had never quite voiced to anyone else. And then there were the meals—two out of three each day spent in each other's presence, whether it was coffee and pastries in the morning or late-night takeout on Henry's couch.

But tonight wasn't about just enjoying the view or indulging in easy conversation. If they were going to explore whatever this was between them, honesty had to come first. Emilia turned to him, tucking her legs up beneath her as she faced him fully.

"Are you ready for some serious questions?" she asked, her voice soft but steady, laced with something deeper than her usual teasing.

Henry tilted his head, studying her. "Serious questions?" He rested his forearms on the railing, fingers idly tracing the condensation on his glass. "I think I can handle that. Go on."

Emilia inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "I've been thinking a lot about how to move forward in my life. How to really know when something is right. And I think the only way to figure that out is to be honest—really honest."

He nodded, his expression open and patient, encouraging her to continue.

She looked down at her hands before meeting his eyes again. "I was with someone for almost ten years. Chase. He—he was my person for a long time. I thought he always would be. We built a life together, grew into each other, made plans, and then... then he threw it all away." Her voice trembled slightly, but she forced herself to go on. "For his first love. Just like that. Like what we had didn't even matter."

Henry's brows furrowed, his jaw tightening slightly. "Emilia..." His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an ache in it, a quiet fury on her behalf.

She let out a breath that felt like it had been lodged in her chest for months. "I didn't see it coming. I thought we were happy. And I think that's what broke me the most—realizing I didn't even know the person I trusted with my heart."

Henry reached for her hand, his touch warm and grounding. "I'm so sorry," he said, his fingers tightening around hers. "No one deserves that, least of all you."

She blinked back the burn of tears, gripping his hand in return. "I didn't want to lie to you about my feelings," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I feel... like... I really like you, Henry. And I want to continue getting to know you. But I also know that if this is going to be anything real, we have to be honest with each other."

Henry didn't hesitate. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles. "Thank you for telling me." His gaze held hers, unwavering and filled with something she could only describe as warmth. "I know how hard that must've been to go through. And I know trust isn't something you can just hand over easily after that."

She exhaled slowly, relieved by his reaction. "Yeah... it's not."

He gave her fingers a small squeeze. "For what it's worth, I want you to know that you can trust me. And I appreciate you trusting me enough to share that." He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. "I have a past too. There are things I haven't talked about in a long time... and I want to tell you. Just—" He let out a breath. "I'm not ready yet."

Emilia nodded. She understood more than she could put into words. "That's okay," she said gently. "When you are, I'll be here."

A slow smile spread across Henry's face, his hand still holding hers. "You know, for such a serious conversation, you've somehow made me like you even more."

She let out a watery laugh, wiping at the corner of her eye. "Oh, so you liked me already?"

"Are you kidding?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make her stomach flutter. "From the second you made fun of my terrible coffee order, I knew I was in trouble."

Emilia laughed, shaking her head. "Henry, you ordered a caramel macchiato with extra caramel and two shots of espresso. That's not coffee, that's a sugar crash waiting to happen."

"I like to live on the edge," he said with a smirk.

She bit her lip, her heart feeling lighter, steadier. Maybe this could work. Maybe this was something worth exploring.

Henry lifted her hand to his lips once more, lingering just a little longer. "No more serious questions for tonight?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Emilia grinned. "I think we've earned a break."

The night stretched on, their conversation dancing between lighthearted teasing and quiet sincerity. And as Emilia looked at Henry—really looked at him—she realized that, for the first time in a long time, she felt something real. Something worth holding onto.

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