Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
ELENA
“So, care to tell me what’s going on with you and my brother-in-law?”
I froze with my wine glass halfway to my lips. We were curled up on opposite ends of my new cozy couch, the afternoon sun streaming through the cottage windows I still hadn’t hung curtains on.
This conversation was inevitable. Honestly, I was surprised I’d been able to dodge it this long. My best friend was no dummy, and she certainly didn’t have a problem prying.
Since Peter, she’d respected my boundaries. I was still healing, and she understood. But watching her now, the way she picked at a loose thread on my throw pillow while trying to keep her expression neutral, I knew my time was up.
“Must I?” I pulled my knees closer to my chest, creating a physical barrier between us.
“You must.” Tessa’s tone was gentle but firm.
I sighed, shrugged, and told her the truth. “I’m in love with him.”
“You’re what?” Tessa shrieked, nearly spilling her wine as she sat up straight. “With Chase?”
A fierce wave of protectiveness rolled through me, hot and immediate. Images flashed through my mind—Chase’s gentle hands as he taught me to snowboard, his concerned eyes when he found my bruises, the way he held me through nightmares without asking questions.
“Yes, with Chase. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snapped, setting my glass down so hard on the coffee table that wine sloshed over the rim.
Tessa’s brows shot up as she proceeded cautiously, tone softening ever so slightly. She leaned forward, placing her own glass beside mine. “I mean, he’s Chase… Class clown, black sheep, fuckboy extraordinaire…”
My fingers dug into the couch cushions. Her words felt like an attack, not just on Chase but on my ability to make decisions about my own life.
Hadn’t I proven I could recognize danger now?
The old Elena—Peter’s Elena—would have swallowed her anger, would have nodded and agreed just to keep the peace.
But I wasn’t that woman anymore.
She didn’t know Chase the way I did. She didn’t know about the way he read medical journals just to understand my work better, or how he showed up with soup when I had a cold, or the careful way he was rebuilding his life.
“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”
“I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Lane. And I’m married to literally his identical twin, so... feels like I’ve got a pretty good read.” She gestured emphatically, the sunlight catching her wedding ring—a reminder of her connection to Chase’s family.
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at my best friend. The tension in the room felt foreign, wrong. We never fought. You’d think two strong-willed women would go at it frequently, but not us.
“I’m just worried about you, okay? This is a pretty dramatic rebound.” Tessa scooted closer on the couch, reaching for my hand.
Just like that, I moved right past annoyed and into pissed off. I jerked my hand away, standing up to put distance between us. “He’s not a rebound, Tessa!”
“Then explain it to me, Elena!” She stood, too, following me as I paced toward the kitchen.
“Because from where I’m sitting, he’s taking advantage of a shitty situation and preying on your emotions, and I don’t fucking like it.
He’s got a drinking problem, and probably drugs, too.
He is not what you need in your life right now! ”
My skin felt too tight, like I might burst out of it at any moment.
The familiar urge to apologize, to smooth things over, rose in my throat—a leftover habit from years of walking on eggshells.
But underneath that was something new: rage.
Not at Tessa, not really, but at everyone who looked at Chase and saw only his mistakes.
At everyone who thought they knew better than me what I needed.
At myself for still questioning whether I deserved something good.
“Stop acting like you know what’s best for me! I have lived through hell and survived just fine without you!”
It was a low blow, and horror washed over me as I watched my words hit their mark. She flinched back like I’d slapped her, all the color draining from her face. The afternoon sun caught the tears welling in her eyes.
This was exactly what Peter used to do—use people’s love against them, weaponize their biggest fears. I’d promised myself I’d never become him, never use words as weapons. But here I was, hurting the one person who’d tried to save me, just because she dared to care about me.
“I’m sorry, Tessa. I didn’t mean that.” My voice cracked as I reached for her, but she took a step back.
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shoulders hunched. “I’m just trying to understand, Lane. I’m worried about you.” The quiet defeat in her voice was worse than any anger could have been.
The silence stretched between us, heavy with unsaid things. I watched as Tessa sank back onto my couch, her shoulders still curved inward. The sight of the wetness on her cheeks had my stomach churning with guilt.
“You want to understand?” I asked softly, running my fingers through my tangled hair. “That night after the cidery opening, after Chase ran out... he told me things.”
Tessa’s head snapped up. “What things?”
I crossed back to the couch, curling into the opposite corner. My glass was empty, but I wrapped my hands around it anyway, needing something to ground me.
“About what it’s like living in Elliot’s shadow.
About how hard it is watching everyone praise your husband while treating Chase like they’re just waiting for him to screw up again.
” My voice cracked as I remembered the raw pain in Chase’s voice that night.
“God, Tess, he sat there on my porch steps telling me how sometimes he thinks everyone would be better off if he just disappeared.”
Tessa’s face softened slightly. “I didn’t... I mean, I knew things were hard for him, but...”
I swallowed hard, the memory of his glazed eyes and slurred words still fresh.
“Tess... He’s not just some fuckboy looking for an easy target.
He’s struggling, and he’s hurting, and maybe I shouldn’t love him yet, maybe it’s too soon after Peter, but.
..” I drew in a shaky breath. “When he’s sober, when he’s himself.
.. he makes me feel safe, loved, cared for.
Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I felt that way? ”
Tessa narrowed her gaze, and I could see her wrestling with what to say next. “Lane... I hear what you’re saying. I do. But you just got out of one dangerous situation. I can’t watch you walk right into another one.”
“It’s not the same thing.” I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the July heat seeping through the windows. “Peter was calculated. Controlled. Everything he did was about power.” I met Tessa’s eyes. “Chase is... He’s lost. There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Tessa’s voice was gentle but firm. “Seems like you’re still making excuses for a man’s behavior.”
The truth in her words settled like ice in my stomach.
Was that what I was doing? The line between understanding someone’s struggles and enabling their behavior suddenly felt razor-thin.
I thought of all the times I’d defended Peter in the early days, all the explanations I’d made for his bad moods.
But this was different—wasn’t it? Chase wasn’t Peter.
Chase was... Chase was trying. But then again, hadn’t I told myself Peter was trying, too, in the beginning?
“I’m not making excuses. I’m trying to explain that I see him—all of him. The good and the bad. And he’s different since that night, Tess. After I found him on my porch, after I told him I couldn’t be around him when he was using... he heard me. Actually heard me.”
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I glanced at the time. Almost six. Chase would be here soon with our weekly pizza picnic on the living room floor—a tradition that had started the night I moved in, when he’d cleaned this whole place for me.
Tessa followed my gaze, her lips pressing into a thin line. But instead of giving me another lecture, she just gathered her purse and stood. “I should go. El’s got that thing at the orchard tonight.”
I walked her to the door, both of us carrying the weight of words still unsaid.
She paused on the threshold, wrapping me in a fierce hug that caught me off guard. “Just... promise me you’ll be careful, Lane.”
I squeezed her back, breathing in her familiar scent. “I know what I’m doing.”
After she left, I straightened the throw pillows and gathered our wine glasses, humming quietly to myself.
The fading sunlight streamed through my still-curtainless windows, painting golden stripes across my hardwood floors.
Three months in this cottage, and I still hadn’t gotten around to hanging curtains.
But somehow that felt right—letting the light in, not hiding anymore.
The sound of a car door closing outside made me smile.
Right on time. Chase always teased me about being ready exactly at six, said my military precision about pizza night was adorable.
I wiped my hands on my shorts and headed for the door, not even bothering to check who it was through the window.
After all, this was Sable Point. This was home. This was safe.
For the first time since leaving Peter, I finally understood what it meant to feel secure in my own space.
But then I opened the door.
“Hello, wife.”