Chapter 20
CHANCE
My gut buzzes like a live wire, and it isn’t just Caruso. That bastard alone is enough to put anyone on edge, but something is off with Roxie.
Something that doesn’t match the usual trauma-flash flares I’ve learned to watch for. This is different. Quieter. More internal, like she’s struggling with something she hasn’t said out loud yet.
Back in the day, the Corps drilled instincts into me so deep they fused with bone and muscle and became part of who I am, and every single one of them is screaming at me to pay attention. So far, I try to ignore them, waiting patiently but keyed up, for her to come to me on her own.
I can’t wait anymore.
So here I am, standing outside her door late in the afternoon, long shadows stretching down the hall. I wonder if I’m just being paranoid, but I can practically feel Boone and Dillon doing their own versions of pacing. Boone in the kitchen, and Dillon buried in work.
We can’t keep doing this.
Roxie opened up to me about Caruso. That means something. And I need to make sure she’s okay. It feels like we take one step forward and four back, but we’d still burn the world to the ground to protect this girl.
I lift my fist and knock softly.
A few seconds pass before her voice drifts through the door, thin and distracted.
“Come in.”
I push the door open.
She’s stretched out on the bed, one hand resting flat against her stomach. Her gaze is fixed on the snowy peaks outside the window, unfocused, far away, lost in thoughts deep enough to drown in.
The sight hits me square in the chest. The gnawing in my gut spikes instantly.
“Hey, angel,” I say quietly. “Can I come in?”
She blinks a few times and pushes herself up, twisting to face me. Her hair gets lighter by the day, gold catching in the afternoon sun. It spills loose past her shoulders. She’s wrapped in an oversized shirt that definitely belongs to Boone, leggings and fluffy socks completing the picture.
“Hey,” she murmurs, aiming for casual and missing. “What’s up? Do you need me for something?”
“No.” I step inside and close the door. The air shifts immediately, the way it always does when it’s just us. “I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay?”
I move closer, keeping my voice light even though my pulse isn’t.
“You’ve been really quiet the last week.”
“Oh, I’m fine.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just tired.”
Bullshit. Beautiful, stubborn bullshit.
I crouch beside the bed so I’m looking up at her instead of down. “Roxie.”
Her jaw tightens just a fraction, but it’s enough. My blood edges toward that darker place I keep locked down, the part of me that turns lethal when someone I care about is hurting. That darkness isn’t for her.
It’s for threats. For men like Caruso.
I brush a knuckle along the blanket near her hip instead of touching her directly, deliberately softening my tone. “If something else is going on, you can tell me. You know that, right?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows. She looks back toward the mountains, and for a moment she looks so fragile my chest tightens.
“I know,” she whispers. “Thanks, Chance.”
I don’t push. Marines know when to wait. Instead, I stand and sit gently on the edge of the bed. Close, but not crowding her. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”
She glances at me, gratitude flickering across her face before she looks away again. My instincts hum louder, more insistent, but I let the silence breathe.
Roxie usually radiates warmth. Right now, it feels dimmed. Guarded.
And that tells me everything I need to know.
“Look at me, Rox.”
She hesitates, then slowly turns her head. Her eyes search my face like she’s deciding whether to brace herself. I groan softly and drag a hand over my face, hating that the world gives her so many reasons not to trust anyone.
Time to show my cards.
“I’m not here to corner you or force you to spill all your deepest secrets,” I say. “But there’s something I want you to understand about us.”
Her fingers curl into the blanket, knuckles whitening slightly. I exhale and rub my palms over my thighs before meeting her gaze again.
“I know you haven’t known us long. And trust isn’t owed, it’s earned.”
Her lips part. Guilt flickers across her face. Fear. It makes me want to punch karma straight in the throat.
“But here’s something true,” I continue. “Something real. There’s nothing in this world I don’t trust Boone and Dillon with.”
She frowns slightly. I huff a humorless laugh.
“I mean it. If Boone bursts in here right now and tells me to jump out your goddamn window, I’d do it. No questions.”
A small, startled smile appears, and some of the tension inside me eases.
“It’s not because I’m stupid. Though Dillon would argue that,” I add.
She lets out a quiet huff, almost a laugh.
“I’d do it because if Boone says it, there’s a damn good reason for it. Same with Dillon. We’ve spent years building that kind of trust.”
I lean back on my hands, holding her gaze. “And here’s the thing, angel, we already trust you that way too.”
Her eyes widen slightly, but I keep going, steady and calm.
“We see how big your heart is. We see how you keep going even when you’re scared. You’ve told us things that tear you open, and you still do it. We see you, Rox.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes. She turns away, but I reach out slowly, giving her space to pull back, and rest my hand over hers where she grips the blanket. Her fingers tremble, but she doesn’t pull away.
“We trust you,” I say softly. “And we want the chance to earn your trust too.”
Her breath hitches. I rub my thumb gently over the back of her hand.
Her fingers turn, tightening around mine. When she finally looks at me again, her eyes shine in a way that wrecks me.
“I’m scared, Chance.”
“Of Caruso?”
She shrugs, a thin, watery smile tugging at her lips. “Of him, yeah. But mostly I’m scared of this. Of how I feel about you. All of you. It’s fast. It’s a lot. And it feels like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
My chest tightens. I shift closer and cup her jaw, thumb brushing softly beneath her cheekbone.
“It’s okay to be scared,” I murmur. “Hell, I’d be worried if you weren’t.”
She lets out a shaky breath. I rest my forehead against hers, holding her gaze.
“We’re not here because you need us. We’re here because we want to be. You’ve seen how we commit to the house, to the business, to each other. When we’re in, we’re all in.”
A tiny, hopeful smile curves her mouth. Her eyes soften just enough, and that’s hat’s all it takes.
I lean in and kiss her, slowly and carefully at first. Her fingers slide into my hair, and the soft sound she makes goes straight down my spine.
As soon as I feel her grip on me tighten, I stop being careful with her.
I kiss her like she’s sunshine and I’m a dying, desperate plant.
Her body arches into mine, her mouth opening to let me deepen the kiss.
Our breathing becomes hot and uneven, her hands clutching at my shoulders like she can’t decide whether to pull me closer or hold herself together.
By the time we finally break apart, we’re both gasping like we’ve just run a damn marathon, our foreheads pressed together. I swallow hard, trying to rein myself in and only barely succeeding.
“You should go take a shower,” I rasp. “Get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon.”
She blinks, her eyes a little dazed and her lips swollen. “What are you going to do?”
I meet her gaze dead-on. “Probably hit the gym.”
She stands on unsteady legs and I can’t help but run my gaze over her, drinking her in wearing Boone’s huge shirt and those leggings hugging her calves. As I watch, she hooks her fingers under the hem of the shirt and pulls it over her head.
I forget how to breathe, but she holds my gaze steadily until she turns and starts walking slowly to the bathroom. I stare after her, my fingers digging into the edge of the bed until she pauses at the door and glances at me over her shoulder.
A wicked little smile ghosts across her mouth. “You could go work out, or you could join me.”
My brain has a one-second delay, trying to reboot so I can act like a rational adult, but need obliterates the attempt. I practically trip over my own damn feet getting to her.
Steam curls out of the shower by the time I shut the door behind us. Roxie stands at the edge of the shower with her back to me, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her leggings.
She doesn’t look over her shoulder this time, just peels them down slowly, like she knows I’m watching. Like she wants me watching.
My pulse kicks hard enough to shake something loose in my ribs. I step in behind her, close enough that the heat coming off her bare skin seeps into me.
“Are you sure about this?” My voice comes out sounding wrecked and rough. “I need to hear you say it, angel.”
“Yes,” she whispers, resting her head on my shoulder and looking up at me. “I want you, Chance.”
My restraint snaps clean in half.
I reach for her gently but with an urgency I can’t hide, sliding my palms over her hips and pulling her back against me. She lets out a soft sigh, leaning into my chest like she’s been waiting to fit there all along.
Lowering my head, I press a kiss to her shoulder, then another to the curve of her neck, lingering on her pulse. The way it flutters beneath my lips makes something primal surge up inside me, protective, hungry, and reverent all at the same time.
My hand trails up to cup her jaw and I kiss her again, deeper this time, letting everything I felt bleed into it. Her hands fist in my shirt, and I break away long enough to pull the damn thing off, then my pants, and then nothing separates us anymore.
The shower roars behind her, a curtain of steam filling the room as I open the door, walking forward to guide her inside. Hot water runs in rivulets down her shoulders, her spine, and her thighs, and for a moment I forget every coherent thought I’ve ever had.