Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
CHASE
“Morning.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and dropped into a seat at the kitchen table across from my dad, the familiar scent of his black coffee mixed with newsprint filling my nose.
His reading glasses—the magnetic kind that hung around his neck until he snapped them into place—perched low on his nose as he read the paper.
It was a morning ritual I’d missed during those sterile months at Harbor Hall.
“Morning, son,” he said, looking up and over the lenses. “Coffee’s fresh.”
I nodded, stretched, and yawned before moving to the counter to pour myself a mug. The ceramic was warm against my palms, grounding me as memories of Elena’s tear-stained face from last night threatened to overwhelm me.
“You got in late last night,” Dad said as I leaned against the counter and gulped my caffeine. “Everything okay?”
“Does everyone know?” The words came out sharp, bitter. “About the baby?”
Dad carefully folded his paper and set it aside. The sound seemed too loud in the quiet kitchen. “Kinda hard to miss these days.” He arced his hand over his stomach, miming a very pregnant belly.
“Funny, she doesn’t look much bigger than you.”
“Ouch.” Dad clutched his chest dramatically. “You wound me, son.”
Despite both our attempts to lighten the mood, I couldn’t let it go.
“No one thought to tell me? Three months, and not one fucking person—”
“We all agreed it was best for your recovery,” Dad cut in, his voice gentle but firm. “Elena needed to be the one to tell you, when you were both ready. We just...didn’t expect you to run into her so soon.”
I moved to sink back into the chair across from him, running trembling hands through my hair. “When did everyone find out?”
Dad’s expression softened. “Elena told Tessa shortly after the accident.”
The words punched right through the flimsy, paper-thin walls around my heart. “She knew? Even then?”
While I was spiraling, drunk and high and throwing my life away, Elena had been... had been...
“It was a tough time for her,” Dad said quietly.
My fingers dug into my palms until they threatened to draw blood.
“But you know Everton women. Tessa, Nat, your mom—even Charlie, when she woke up”—I flinched at the mention of my sister—“brought her right into the fold. She’s family now, whether she forgives your dumb ass or not.”
“It might not be mine,” I whispered, tracing the wood grain in the table with eyes that stung from the threat of tears I refused to let spill. I didn’t deserve to cry; I did this to myself.
“Like that matters. You know your mother.”
Despite everything, that pulled a weak smile from me. Mom had a way of making anyone feel like part of the family in an instant, blood or not.
“I assume you know about... all the other stuff?” My voice cracked on the last word. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, too confined. I pushed back from the table and started pacing, unable to sit still with the weight of everything pressing down on me.
“Most of it.” Dad watched me wear a path in the wood floors, his expression carefully neutral. “Elena sat down with us—after some coercion from Tessa, of course. Not sure exactly how things went so bad between the two of you, though. That’s one story she refused to share.”
The memory of that night hit me like a freight train—Elena’s frightened eyes, my drunken rage, the way she’d flinched when my fist hit the pillow. Bile rose in my throat. I gripped the back of my chair until my knuckles went white, trying to steady myself.
“I fucked up.” The words tasted like ash as I started to pace the kitchen again.
“You? No.” He feigned shock, but the worry lines around his eyes deepened.
“Ha, ha. Very funny.” I couldn’t even fake a smile.
His tone turned serious. “You’ll fix it.”
“I don’t know if I can, Dad.” My voice cracked again. I scrubbed a hand over my face, feeling the stubble I hadn’t bothered to shave. “You didn’t see her face...”
“You can. You will.” Dad stood, crossing to where I’d frozen mid-pace. He gripped my shoulder, anchoring me like he used to when I was a kid having nightmares. “But first, you need to forgive yourself.”
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “What about her husband?” I practically spat the word. Sure, she went by Dr. Ventura now, but that didn’t mean shit.
“Ex-husband,” Dad corrected, his hand still steady on my shoulder.
My head snapped up. “What?”
“It’s over. Final. Has been for a month now.” Dad’s eyes held mine, letting that sink in. “He made bail while he waits for trial. She used the time to finalize the divorce. But don’t think for a second he’s done—men like him never are.”
The rage that had been simmering under my skin since I’d first seen those bruises on Elena’s ribs bubbled up again. My fists clenched at my sides. That bastard was walking around free after what he’d done to her. I should have fucking killed him with my bare hands when I had the chance.
“Son.” Dad’s voice cut through the red haze of my anger. “That look on your face right now? I get it. But you need to let it go.”
“Let it go?” I barked out a harsh laugh. “After what he did—”
“You have more important things to focus on right now.” Dad squeezed my shoulder. “Like getting yourself right. And maybe...” He paused. “Being there for Elena. If she’ll let you.”
The fight drained out of me, leaving me empty and aching. Dad was right. My rage at Peter wouldn’t help Elena. Wouldn’t erase what I’d done to hurt her too.
And she was all that mattered. Her, and the baby.
Morning came too quickly after a night of fitful sleep, and I dragged myself out of bed with one thought: find a job. Step three in Jackson’s plan for getting my life back on track.
My first stop was to the tiny home situated on the orchard about a half mile from the main house.
Used to be you’d find my brother Elliot at the Sable Point Resort and Spa this time of year, working his way through the tourist population one ski bunny at a time.
Now he was disgustingly happy with Tessa—his former business rival turned wife.
Those two had spent years fighting like cats and dogs before they finally figured out all that tension was heading somewhere else entirely.
I’d called that one years ago. Some people just needed to fuck out their feelings.
I climbed the three steps to the front door and knocked. Muffled giggles sounded through the wood door, and I could have sworn I heard my sister-in-law say, “Keep it in your pants.”
Fat chance of that.
The door swung open, and Tessa stood inside wearing a thin robe.
I kept my gaze strictly above her shoulders.
There was no other woman I was looking at these days, but god knew my brother had it out for me.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to gouge out my eyeballs if he so much as thought I looked at his wife in any sort of sexual way.
“Hey, Chase,” Tessa said, pulling me into a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Good to be seen.”
“I was just going to hop in the shower. Come on in. El will be down in a minute.”
I stepped into the tiny house, letting out a colorful curse when I rammed my shin into the coffee table on my way to the couch. I don’t know how Elliot lived here, let alone him and Tessa. Grown men were too damn big for such small living quarters.
By the time I sat down, Elliot was on his way down the steep set of stairs that led up to their loft-style bedroom.
“Hey, brother.” He pulled me to my feet by my arm and wrapped me in a tight hug.
Fuck, now I really might cry.
I couldn’t remember the last time my brother had hugged me.
I had a chip on my shoulder, and he had a point to prove. It didn’t make for a great relationship. People thought that because we were twins, we should have that weird telepathy some do, but we couldn’t be more different.
Then again, we fell for two women who were best friends. Maybe we were more alike than either of us thought.
When Elliot finally released me, my brother looked like he had tears in his eyes, too. We cleared our throats at the same time as we sat on the couch, averting our eyes and making things awkward as shit.
My fingers picked at a loose thread on my jeans as I shifted on the weathered leather. Elliot mirrored my position on the opposite end, one knee pulled up as he faced me. The morning light caught the blue of his eyes—a mirror of my own.
“I have a favor to ask...”
His face went blank, that careful mask he’d perfected over years of dealing with Tessa and every other thorn in his side sliding into place. “Go on...”
My throat tightened. “I was hopin’ you could give me a job.
” He opened his mouth to speak, but I pressed on before he had a chance to reject the idea.
“And before you say no, I want you to know how sorry I am about the shit I pulled earlier this year. I jeopardized this family’s legacy and livelihood.
I was a selfish asshole. I can see that now, but I’m tryin’ to do better. ”
A muscle ticked in Elliot’s jaw as he considered my words. The crease between his brows deepened—the same one Mom always said would give him premature wrinkles. A heavy breath escaped him. “There’s not much to do in the winter other than at the cidery, and I don’t know if that’s—”
“I get it that you don’t want me there.” The sting of rejection burned in my chest.
“It’s not that, Chase. We all want you here, workin’ with us. I just don’t want it to be tough on you... ya know, bein’ around all that booze.”
The reality of his words hit me like a punch to the gut.
The cidery—EdenTree, the new crown jewel of the orchard—all gleaming taps and amber bottles catching the light.
My palms grew sweaty just thinking about it.
“Yeah, I guess I hadn’t really thought of that.
Maybe I could just, like, clean at the end of the night or somethin’? ”
“You wanna be my janitor?” His lips twitched.
“Hey, I cleaned the fuck outta that nasty-ass place Elena moved into.”
“That you did.” A ghost of a smile crossed his face, and he drummed his fingers against his knee, weighing options. “Alright, let’s give it a try.”
Relief flooded through me. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”
“You’re an Everton,” he said, his voice taking on that familiar authoritative tone. “And Evertons take care of their own.”
Dad’s words in my brother’s mouth. I dropped my chin to hide my smile, memories of countless family dinners and lectures washing over me. The weight of our legacy pressed against my shoulders—not crushing anymore, but grounding.
“How are things going with Elena?” Elliot’s question pierced through my thoughts.
The image of her tear-stained face from last night flashed behind my eyes. My chest ached.
“I don’t deserve her, El.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But she deserves you. She’s been through hell and back so many times over, it’s hard to understand how she’s still standing. She loves you. All you can do is show up every day, do the best you can, and give her what she needs. And what she needs is you.”
The raw honesty in his words stunned me.
I don’t think I have ever heard you say so many words in a row before.”
“Shut up, dicksicle.” His playful shove caught me off guard—physically and emotionally. This was the kind of relationship I’d always wanted with my brother. Maybe now, I could finally have it. “You wanna stay for breakfast?”
“Are you cooking, or is Tessa?”
“Tessa, obviously. Mom has taught her to make all the good shit, and it’s real fuckin’ nice not having to walk up to the house in the cold just for some French toast.”
“Hell yeah, I’m staying.” I settled deeper into the couch cushions, already tasting that first bite of French toast. The normalcy of it all—sitting here in my brother’s house, waiting for breakfast—felt like a gift I didn’t deserve.
But I was learning to accept those moments instead of sabotaging them.
Next stop on the Chase Everton Gets His Shit Together tour was the resort. Winter season meant they needed instructors, and Jackson said keeping busy was key. Two jobs seemed smart—keep me out of trouble and help pay back my parents for rehab. All eighty-four days of it.
The gravel crunched under my boots as I headed for my truck, keys cold in my hand. Another freezing December morning in northern Michigan.
“Chase, hold up a second.”
Mom’s voice made me stop. When I turned around, she was in the doorway with that ancient coffee mug she refused to throw away, even though Dad bitched about the chip in it constantly.
“What’s up?” I bounded back up the steps, probably looking as jumpy as I felt.
She started fidgeting with her sweater—never a good sign. That little wrinkle showed up between her eyebrows, the one that always meant trouble.
“Where are you off to?” Her voice was too careful. Way too careful.
“Heading to the resort. Gonna see if they’ll take me back.” The keys dug into my palm. “Need to start somewhere.”
Mom pressed her lips together, definitely picking up on my nervous energy. “Don’t you think you’re pushing too hard? You just got home yesterday, sweetheart.”
The guilt hit me like a punch to the gut. “I need a job, Mom. Gotta pay you and Dad back for rehab.” Three months in Harbor Hall wasn’t cheap, no matter how you looked at it.
“Oh, honey, that’s not necessary.” Her voice went all soft, the way it did when she was about to let me off the hook for something.
“Yes, it is.” I squared my shoulders. “That wasn’t your mess to clean up. It was mine.”
Something changed in Mom’s face then. She took a long drink of coffee, holding that mug like she was scared to let go.
“Chase, we didn’t pay for rehab.”
“Then who did?”
But I knew. Even before she said it, I knew.
“Elena.”
Elena. Elena, who might be carrying my kid. Elena, who I’d hurt over and over. Elena had paid for my rehab.
“Fuck,” was all I could manage.
Mom smiled. “I’ll let that one slide because I think you needed it.”
I slumped against the railing, running a shaky hand through my hair. The cold air wasn’t helping clear my head for shit. Elena had paid while she was pregnant. While dealing with her own mess. While everything in her life was falling apart.
The debt wasn’t just about money anymore. This was bigger. Way bigger.
And I had no fucking clue what to do with that.