Chapter Twenty-Four
LUKE
Avery had been cleared from the hospital overnight—no lasting damage, just orders to rest. Her parents took her home for the weekend, a reset none of them were ready for.
By Monday morning, she’d had enough forced rest and family time and escaped to Mila’s before school.
That left me with the other fracture to face—Chase hadn’t been seen since the hospital.
Gulls cut across a gray sky. The boards beneath me still carried last night’s cold, the pier groaning with each shift of weight. Salt stung the air, the tide gnawing at the pylons in a steady grind.
Drew popped into my head, his advice sage in a moment like this: “Keep your head down. Don’t let emotion screw the play.”
I got to the pier first, hands shoved into my hoodie, breath fogging in the morning chill. The planks creaked behind me—footsteps steady, unhurried. I didn’t turn until he stopped a few feet away.
Chase looked wrecked—knuckles split, jaw ticking as if he could grind last night into dust. His eyes stayed on the water, anywhere but me.
“You want to hit me too?” My tone stayed even, not a dare—just an opening.
He kept his eyes on the water. “I already swung.”
“Yeah. At the one guy who let you. Jax took it so you wouldn’t have to carry it afterward. He could’ve put you on the ground, and you know it. But he didn’t.”
His mouth pressed thin. “He should’ve come to me.”
“Yeah.” No point softening it. “He was going to, but Elise’s minions changed the timeline.” The old bolts in the pier groaned under my weight. “You know him. You’ve trusted him for years. He let you land those hits because he respects you. Because he respects Avery. That counts.”
A twitch at his cheekbone. “And what about you?” His voice came rough. “You knew and didn’t tell me?”
“I knew more than I said.” The words came rough. “Enough to know they were trying to handle it the right way. Avery told you before it hit your phone. That was her choice to make. Be mad at me. Be mad at him. But not at her for owning her part.”
His head dipped. “Don’t tell me you actually trust him with her.”
“I do, and so do you. Don’t play it that way.
I know you’re worried because of what happened to her in the past. But she’s not the same person.
I trust Jax to protect her, to show up when things aren’t easy.
Is it perfect? No. He waited too long to talk to you.
But his heart’s aimed right.” I angled closer.
“Better Jax than any of the assholes waiting in the wings.”
He flinched. A wave slammed beneath us, the plank under my shoes vibrating.
“I don’t want to watch you bury a real friendship,” I added. “Not when the wrong people are counting on it.”
Silence. Birds shrieked over the waves. Chase’s knuckles flexed like memory still lived in them.
I pulled my phone without breaking my sightline to the water and sent one word. Now.
Footfalls hit the wood behind us, steady and measured. I didn’t turn, but Chase did, his shoulders squaring.
Jax stopped just out of swing range, hands open at his sides—not submissive, just present.
Chase’s stare bore into Jax. “You should’ve come to me first.”
“I know.” Jax’s voice stayed steady. “And I wanted to. That was the plan.”
Chase’s mouth twisted. “That’s all you’ve to say?”
“No.” Jax drew a breath, lips pressing into a hard line.
“It’s me owning it. I screwed up. But I’m here now.
” He stepped closer. “I’ve had feelings for Avery since middle school.
I never acted on my feelings because of our friendship.
Because of the team. When Elise had everyone on edge, I kept my distance.
It didn’t feel safe to let anything show.
So I stayed away. Even when it killed me.
Then Avery told me she had feelings, and I couldn’t turn it off. We kissed, once. That’s all.”
Chase’s scowl cut hard. “Stop. That’s my sister.” A shudder crawled through him. “I don’t need the play-by-play.”
“Understood.” Jax gave a tight nod. “I haven’t told her yet because it’s too soon, but I love her. It’s that simple.”
Chase’s glare sharpened. “And you tell me this before you tell her? You think I want to be the first one to know you’re—”
“I shouldn’t be telling you before her.” Jax’s voice stayed steady. “I know that. But you’re standing here, and I need you to hear it from me. She’s always been the one.”
Chase stared at him, tension carved into his face. Wind flattened his shirt against his chest. He looked from Jax to the water and back. The muscle in his cheek flexed once. Twice. “Don’t hurt her.”
“I won’t.” Jax met Chase’s stare head-on.
Chase dragged a hand over his mouth, eyes burning. “I should hit you again.”
“You can.” Jax didn’t move. “I’ll still be here when you’re done.”
Something shifted. Not forgiveness. But maybe the start of it.
I tipped my head toward the line of light where the horizon sharpened. “You two good enough that I can leave you without needing to pull anyone off?”
Chase snorted under his breath. “Yeah.”
“Then finish it.” I clapped Chase’s shoulder once and stepped back. “We’re a solid team, not a divided one.”
He didn’t argue. That was new.
I passed Jax on my way off the pier and brushed his shoulder with two knuckles. The old touch we threw at each other when wins hurt and losses hurt more.
I stepped back far enough to give them space, close enough to move in if it turned again. Their voices carried in pieces over the wind. I couldn’t make out the words, but their voices sounded low, controlled.
Minutes dragged. The pier creaked under us, gulls screaming at the surf. When I turned back, they were standing closer. Chase’s shoulders had dropped a notch. Jax looked the same, which for him meant steady.
I closed the distance. “At school, we move together. No gaps for Elise to crawl into. No room for Logan to run his mouth. Anyone looking for a show leaves disappointed.”
Chase rubbed at the split across his knuckles. “And Avery?”
“Front and center,” I answered. “With you both. Not kept quiet. Not a rumor. A fact.”
Jax’s mouth lifted in a crooked grin. “Public, huh?”
“Yeah.” I held Jax’s stare. “You go public with Aves. Not with fireworks. With presence. Walk with her. Eat with her. Stand with her. Shut down Elise’s meddling.”
Jax’s nod came slow, deliberate. “I was going to do that anyway.”
“Good.” I flicked a glance at Chase. “You don’t have to like it today. You do have to back your people.”
He blew out a breath that fogged in the chill. “I’m not going to hold his hand.”
“No one asked you to.” I let a corner of my mouth tilt. “We’re not building a wedding website—we’re closing ranks.”
There was a huff from him that might one day be a laugh.
We stood there a second longer. Wind in our faces. Waves crashing below. Holding steady—for now.
I checked my phone—no messages. Mila would be steadying Avery, making sure she walked in with her chin up. School was an hour out, the fallout closer, and the game sat on the calendar as if nothing had changed.
“We meet in the lot,” I said. “You two get there first. I’ll pull Theo. We walk in, we don’t flinch, and we don’t feed anything with attention.”
Chase rolled his shoulders. “Logan runs his mouth—”
“Coach has him on a leash,” I cut in. “And if not, I do.”
I stepped back, boots thumping the boards, the ocean breathing under us as both a promise and a warning. “We good?”
Chase gave me a look that wasn’t entirely friendly. “We’re not fine.”
“I didn’t ask for fine.” My gaze held his. “I asked if you’re going to keep your fists in your pockets until we give the school a story they can’t twist. Elise doesn’t need any more power.”
His jaw worked. Then he gave a short nod.
Jax tipped his chin, a silent go. He wanted the last two minutes without me to close the circle. Fair.
I left them with the gulls screaming overhead. The walk back down the pier dragged, but my chest eased all the same.
By the time I hit the lot, engines rumbled, and exhaust hung low in the cold. I leaned on my SUV, waiting for my head to settle. My phone buzzed with a message from Theo.
Theo: Tori’s in.
Me: Great. We close ranks at school.
Theo: *thumbs up emoji
Good. He understood.
Another buzz.
Mila: Avery’s ready. We’re heading to school.
Me: We’re set. Chase and Jax are walking in with us. Jax goes public.
Mila: Good. I’ll keep her between us through the doors. Let the school choke on Elise’s bullshit.
A grin threatened. I let it live half a second and killed it. Work first.
I looked back toward the pier. Two figures came off the boards, their heads bent, pace matched. Chase’s hands stayed open, empty.
We had a plan. Not clean. Never would be. But it would hold if we did.
“Unbreakable,” I muttered to the SUV, to the wind, to the morning. “It’s time to remind the school what we are.”