Chapter 33
I t was odd to be both relieved and saddened at the news of Owen. It was odd to be sad at all, given everything. But there was a part of me—an old, buried deep part—that ached.
Ached for the man I’d thought I’d known and loved. Ached for the person he’d made me into. Ached that he’d chosen me for a future I couldn’t even stomach to think about.
I wanted to talk to Adam about everything Hudson had told me took place in the middle of the night, but he’d been asleep since before I’d woken. Something I was grateful for, considering I wasn’t sure when he’d last slept. But I selfishly wanted those mesmerizing eyes on me and those large hands cradling my face. Surprisingly, I wanted the way everything about him demanded I drop my guard.
Even though this mask , as Adam called it, had become my entire personality over the years, I hadn’t realized how exhausting it was until Adam had all but torn it off.
Glancing at the large, decorative clock on the wall that had Lainey’s name all over it, I bit back a sigh when I saw it was only half past three—a whole five minutes past the last time I’d checked.
“What do you think, Chloe?”
My head snapped to the side at the sound of my name, my smile already fixed in place before I locked onto where Lainey sat on the floor, playing with Kaia. “Sorry, what?” I asked brightly.
“Huntley Square for an early dinner?” she asked, brows drawn tight like she wasn’t sure I’d be up for it, and I wasn’t.
It’d been an unexpectedly long, physically and emotionally exhausting weekend, especially considering I’d started it off thinking I would be relaxing in Aruba for a week. But not being up for something wasn’t an attribute I’d ever show anyone but the infuriating, tattooed man who had somehow stolen pieces of my heart between cruel words, baffling silences, and truly seeing me in a way I’d never wanted anyone to.
So, after trying to figure out what day it was— Monday, Chloe —and assuring myself my parents wouldn’t be anywhere near downtown Huntley on a Monday—since I didn’t feel like explaining why I wasn’t out of the country—I said, “Ooo, absolutely! When do we go?”
A startlingly loud crash sounded from the back of the house before anyone could answer, sending the Shadow members to their feet before I’d even finished flinching.
Just as Asher started that way, gun already drawn, he stopped and hissed, “ Thatch ,” in recognition. He then looked back at Cameron and the Deadly Duo, communicating something to them without saying another word.
And I knew exactly what it was.
I scrambled off the couch but had only made it a few steps toward the hall before Cameron latched onto my arm and slammed me back. “Not a chance.”
“We’ll take care of it,” Asher assured me.
“What’s going on?” Lainey asked quietly, sounding wholly confused and slightly concerned.
“He’s gonna hate himself,” I told them, speaking in hushed tones like Adam might hear me. “When he wakes up and realizes what happened, his fear of this is gonna be that much worse. He’s gonna try to pull away from me again. I need to show him this isn’t something he needs to be afraid of.”
“You don’t know what he might do,” Asher said gently and not unkindly, and I knew right then that he hurt for Adam.
“And I won’t if you don’t let me go back there,” I told him firmly. “ He won’t know what he’ll do around me, and he’ll let that fear grow. Just let me come with you.”
Cameron’s hand twitched on my arm when another dull thud sounded from the back, but Asher just stared at me for long seconds before finally relenting. “Stay behind me.”
“Briggs,” Hudson began hesitantly, only to press his lips in a tight line when Asher cut a look his way.
“If Thatch wants any kind of life with Chloe, she’s right,” Asher said decisively.
Something inside me thrilled at his words, but I quickly pushed it down before the implication could take root in my heart and my head.
Between that and the implication behind Adam vowing he’d take me back to his parents’ house in the next few months, that romance-loving part of me was going to start thinking this thing between Adam and me was so much more than it was.
It was one thing to fall hard and fast; that was my own fault for not better guarding my heart against absurdly gorgeous, flawed men. It was another to believe there was a relationship and a future when there wasn’t.
I couldn’t survive the second again.
With an acknowledging nod, I stepped away from Cameron and up to where Asher was watching me.
“If I tell you to get out, you get out,” he said softly, his tone hinting just how dangerous this might become.
But there wasn’t an ounce of fear in my body, only the need to get to where Adam was. Maybe that made me foolish. Maybe it made me even more na?ve than I’d been with Owen. I didn’t care.
If they’d been Special Forces, I had an idea of how lethal the Shadow team was. And while I had no doubt the trauma tormenting Adam made him see things that seemed so real, I knew a part of him was afraid of what he was doing, and I had a feeling that part of him could be reached.
“Can I talk to him?” I asked Asher as we carefully moved down the hall.
“No.” Asher stopped moving when we heard murmurs coming from around the corner and held out an arm for me to do the same.
“I think I should,” I said under my breath. When Asher slanted a glare at me from over his shoulder, I explained, “You were there. Whatever he’s seeing—wherever he thinks he is—you were there. I wasn’t. You might make it worse.”
Asher shoved me behind him at the exact moment Adam silently rounded the corner. The brief glimpse I caught of him had my chest aching because I knew he was still fully trapped in another place. Another time.
Hands positioned in front of his bare shoulder like he was holding a phantom rifle. Moving even more stealthily than he usually did as he hurried toward Asher, relaying information I couldn’t begin to decode, even if he had been talking above hushed whispers.
“Thatch,” Asher began softly, but Adam just said something that sounded like, “Moving now.”
“You were there,” I whispered to Asher when Adam started back the way he’d come. Before Asher could stop me, I stepped around him and softly called out, “Adam?”
Asher latched onto my arm, much the same way as Cameron had, to hold me in place. But I’d already frozen when Adam stopped mid-step, tensed muscles twitching with each of his ragged breaths.
When he didn’t turn around or continue moving, I panicked for all of a second as I tried figuring out what to do next.
You weren’t supposed to wake a sleepwalker—I knew that. I was fairly certain you were supposed to try to get them to go back to bed, but I couldn’t be positive about that. But did the same rules apply when the person sleepwalking was experiencing a PTSD flashback?
Swallowing around my sudden nerves because my whole plan had been talk to him but not about what , I decided to go for the only thing I could think of. “Adam, you need to go to bed,” I continued softly and calmly, afraid if I spoke too loudly, I’d cause a reaction like the one he worried about.
I started toward him, my steps slow and uncertain at first, and felt my lungs empty with relief when Asher moved his hand to my shoulder as he kept in step with me. His grip no longer hindering, but enough to let me know he could pull me away if something happened.
Trying not to ogle the sporadic tattoos I could see decorating Adam’s shoulders and sides and the incredible physique of that man— oh my gosh —because this so wasn’t the time, I forced myself to study his movements as I neared him.
“Why don’t you go back to bed?” I suggested and watched as his head shifted slightly to the side before turning fully, but his faraway stare never quite reached us.
He muttered something unintelligible as his arms dropped to his sides, still tense and ready.
“Good,” I whispered as if I had any idea what he’d said. “Let’s get you back in bed.”
At that, he turned so his side was facing us, and Asher’s hand tightened, stopping me from moving when I was only a couple feet away.
“If he’s afraid of falling asleep near people,” Asher began, the words a breath behind me that somehow had Adam’s head snapping in our direction, “you should probably stop suggesting it.”
Oh.
I stood still as I tried coming up with anything else, and failed, all while I watched Adam’s brow furrow as he mumbled things too low for either of us to hear, if there was any sound behind the words at all.
And then he held out his hand toward me.
“No,” Asher said as if he already knew I’d been about to reach for it. But that quick, firm no had a terrifying darkness passing over Adam’s vacant stare.
“Adam, I’m here.” The words tumbled from my lips before I ever stopped to think about what I was saying. “I’m right here, and I’m okay.” Before Asher could stop me, I took another careful step toward Adam and slipped my hand into his.
In a move so sudden that I barely detected it, Adam pulled me to him, crushing me against his chest. A shock of pain tore through my shoulder when Asher tried keeping me back before releasing me. But then he was right there, looking between the two of us and intently studying our positions as if he was calculating the safest way to get me from Adam’s grip.
But Adam wasn’t hurting me. He was holding me close like he needed to know I was there—that I was okay .
Catching Asher’s eye, I shook my head as much as my position allowed and wrapped my free arm around Adam’s back.
When his grip briefly tightened in response, I wondered what his nightmares had switched to. If seeing Asher behind me had conjured images of Owen and everything we’d learned these past days, or if he’d envisioned himself doing something he feared he had no control over.
“I’m here,” I repeated softly, a sound of surprise catching in my throat when Adam sat. Right there. In the middle of the hall. With me still in his arms so I was straddling his hips as he buried his face in my neck.
My cheeks burned with heat at the incredibly intimate position that Adam wasn’t awake for, and Asher was witnessing every second of as he stood ready to intervene.
But the second I started worrying about what Adam would think if he woke up to find us like this, he stilled beneath me. His arms became steel bands around my back, tightly securing me to him, and his chest’s movements halted as if he’d stopped breathing.
I hadn’t known fear had a taste until then. But it did.
It was bitter and heavy and saturated the entire air when it was strong enough.
“You’re okay,” I hurried to assure him, knowing he was awake.
“Chloe...” The strained sound of my name was filled with dread that crept through the nonexistent space between us before his chest shuddered. His next breaths were quick and panicked as he scrambled to hold me away from him. “Chloe?”
“You’re okay,” I told him.
“Why are you—what’d I do?” he demanded, his head snapping to the side once he realized we weren’t alone and his voice twisting around his next accusing words. “You let her near me?”
But Asher just stood there. Arms folded over his chest as he studied us. Just before he turned and walked away, he nodded at me in approval.
My attention shifted back to Adam when I felt his hands running up my arms and over my shoulders, his eyes wild with panic as he seemed to search for something.
Grabbing one of his hands in mine, I pulled it away from where it’d just reached my neck and told him, “I’m fine.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched as his stare drifted over me again and again, needing to see for himself.
“Adam—”
“How’d you get here?” he asked, his eyes lifting to mine on a delay.
The corners of my mouth twitched as that earlier blush came racing back to my cheeks. “On the floor? You sat us down.”
From the severe set of his jaw and brows, he didn’t find that nearly as amusing as I had. “How’d you get here ?” he repeated roughly. “Near me.”
“I didn’t give Asher the chance to leave me behind.”
Adam’s face fell. “Chloe . . .”
“I wasn’t afraid of what you would do,” I said over him. “And you needed to know what would happen in that situation, or you would always be afraid of the possibility.”
“I am afraid of the possibility,” he said as if I should be too. “You shouldn’t have— Briggs shouldn’t have let you anywhere near me.”
I trailed the tips of my fingers through his hair before securing them at the back of his neck. “Do you even wanna know what you did?”
He didn’t have to say anything for me to know the response he was holding back. The fear and worry clashing in his eyes was enough.
But I still said, “I had a feeling anyone from your time overseas would only fuel the flashback. Asher did.” Leaning closer, I added, “I didn’t.”
That look didn’t leave him as he requested, “Explain.”
So, I did. From the worrying crash all the way through him sinking to the floor with me in his arms.
By the time I finished, he’d settled against the hallway wall. When I’d slid to the floor beside him, he’d pulled me close so I was propped against his bent legs and facing him.
“You stopped when you heard me,” I said softly.
“But I might not the next time.”
I nodded before lifting one of my shoulders. “Maybe not,” I conceded, then hurried to clarify, “But again, I don’t think you stopped because it was me . I’m not trying to imply I’m special or...or anything. I just think hearing someone who wasn’t part of the flashbacks you’re reliving was enough to bring you back from it.”
“Or maybe it was just you,” he countered softly, making my heart go wild in response before it lost all sense of rhythm when he lifted one of his hands to my cheek. Softly trailing his fingers along my cheekbone and cradling my head in his large palm in that way I was quickly becoming addicted to—like I was precious. “Regardless, we don’t know what I’ll do, so you can’t approach me when I’m like that anymore.”
I couldn’t promise that, and I didn’t bother lying to appease him.
When he realized I wasn’t going to say anything, he gave me a look before saying, “I’ll try therapy again with a new therapist. But you can’t put yourself in that danger.”
“I don’t think you’d do anything,” I said, reminding him of our conversation from Colorado. “I told you I thought you wouldn’t hurt me, and after today, I’m sure of it.” When he started protesting, I added, “Adam, you reached for me. Regardless of what you’re seeing, there’s still that part of you that’s so afraid of what you’ll do to me—someone. Anyone. And when you heard me, you stopped. You reached for me. You held me.” I pressed a hand to my chest. “I am not afraid of you.”
Bemusement settled over his features as he searched my face. “You have a lot more confidence in me than you do yourself.”
Embarrassment swept through me and burned hotter when he continued.
“Every time I think we get on the same page, something happens to show me how wrong I am. Like in Colorado... you were so sure I was trying to trick information out of you—that I kept proving that—when I was just fighting how hard I’d already fallen for you and trying to protect you from what just happened. Like now...” he continued meaningfully, his voice dropping lower, “you keep lessening how significant you are and grouping yourself with other people like I haven’t shown you how different you are for me.”
My spirit ached as I warred with myself—wanting to blindly accept everything he was saying, while not knowing how to. My lips parted to try to explain it, only to shut.
“I know we’ve had a rough start,” he admitted. “I know that’s entirely on me, and I’ll take every blame for it. But if I’m wrong in what’s happening here, tell me.”
“You’re not—” The rest of the words caught in my throat because I knew I would fall for his words now, but by the end of the night...“I told you,” I began on a shamed whisper. “I told you what it was like not being able to trust your own mind, and it’s true. But this is more than that.”
Unable to hold his gaze anymore as my embarrassment deepened, I let my stare fall to my lap as I confessed, “Adam, I’m not—I’ve never been the girl who captures guys’ attention. I’ve never been the significant one. I’ve always been the invisible one.”
“Or maybe you’ve been so focused on keeping that mask in place that you haven’t noticed the way you captivate everyone.”
A disbelieving laugh tumbled past my lips. “Right,” I murmured, already having forgotten he’d tried convincing me of that this weekend. My eyes playfully rolled as I lifted my stare to him again.
“Chloe, you really don’t see yourself the way the rest of us do,” he said seriously. When my smile fell, he added, “Trust me on this.”
But that was the problem. I didn’t know how to.
Not trust him , just trust that this was happening for me .
With a fortifying breath, I said, “You’re not wrong. This is”—I gestured between us, then let my hand rest against my chest as I continued baring my soul—“this is terrifying and thrilling for me because this feels more real than anything in my life ever has. But it took so long for me to believe Owen could actually want me, and you know how that ended. So, believing this is real won’t come naturally to me.”
Adam seemed to consider my words before dipping his head. “Then I’ll do whatever I have to until it does.”