Chapter 30 Erin
Bliss.
That’s the first wave that washes over me, and then a familiar scent comes, but not what I washed my bed sheets in.
Pine and fresh air fill my nose, the smell so familiar it pulls a sleepy smile out of me.
My arms stretch out and connect with a solid surface.
It smells divine, but it’s not my pillow.
A deep chuckle rumbles underneath my cheek.
“Well, good morning to you too, girlfriend.”
My eyes snap open.
I’m nuzzling his neck.
The moment I latch onto his gorgeous ocean eyes staring down at me, glimmering with amusement, I jerk backward so fast I fall off the sofa. I hit my leg on the side when I stand.
“Ow, ow, ow. Crap,” I repeat, hopping up and down, my leg cradled in my hands.
“You okay there?” he asks, those eyes sparkling in delight.
“We fell asleep.”
Way to state the obvious, Erin.
“I can see that.” His grin stretches wide when he catches me eyeing him as his shirt lifts, giving me a peek at his washboard abs.
Wow.
“See something you like?” he asks, standing from the sofa.
“I just wasn’t expecting us to fall asleep.”
“We woke up around two in the morning. I was going to go, but you wrapped around me like a koala bear and asked me to stay. You were out again right after.”
“I did?” I ask, not remembering it.
“Yeah.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“For what, baby?”
“For staying.”
“You never have to worry about me leaving you, sweetheart.”
Would it be okay if… I mean, now that we’re together, I’d really like it if you could sometimes stay the night,” I say, my words faltering as a rush of sensation shoots up my neck, like I’ve been caught in the sun for too long.
“Maybe we can talk about what that means so that there’s no confusion, assumptions, or wrong impressions. ”
His brow lifts, amusement dancing on his lips. “Such as?”
“Um, well, you know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart. You’re gonna have to tell me.”
“I’m not saying it.”
His grin breaks out wide as he steps closer. His thumb hooks under my chin, and he gently plucks my bottom lip free from my teeth. It lingers there, soothing the dent I left behind, and then he kisses me.
He smoothes his mouth over mine with confidence and purpose.
By the time he pulls back, I’m breathless and the butterflies in my lower belly are having a field day.
“I’d love to spend nights here with you in your bed. And we don’t have to do anything other than sleep, if that’s not what you want, okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Can I grab a shower?”
Only if I can join you.
The thought rushes so fast, my eyes bulge. Chase gives me a questioning look but doesn’t say anything.
He follows me up the stairs and into my room, disappearing into the en suite a minute later.
I sink onto my bed, replaying every moment from last night. The sweet kisses he placed on my face, lips, and neck. His heartbeat soothing my every fear and worry.
Kissing him makes my head spin. I experience every shock wave and zap deep in my bones, but we haven’t gone any further than kissing.
He knows I’m inexperienced, and he already told me it’s been a while for him, too.
There’s still a lot we have to talk about, but I want him to stay.
I want to cuddle up to him in bed. I just know I’m not ready for other activities.
I was nervous to bring up him staying over in case he thought it meant I was ready for more. But he understood me perfectly.
He always does.
The shower shuts off, and I sit up straight, my pulse jumping to attention.
He’s going to walk out shirtless.
The handle turns, and I bite my lip, trying hard to prepare myself. The door swings open, and he strolls out fully dressed with damp hair and a smirk locked in place.
My stomach flips as desire winds around me. My face must flush red—I can feel it—but Chase must see it too, because he says, “Something wrong, baby?”
“Everything’s perfect,” I squeak out.
He sits next to me, and the mattress dips.
“I only just got to see you, and now it’ll be even longer because of the away series.”
“This is your life, Chase. I’m just happy to be a part of it.”
He kisses my cheek and pulls me into him.
How does he smell so incredible all the time?
“I was wondering,” he begins, pushing my hair behind my ear. “Would you consider staying at my place the night I get back? It would be nice to come home to you.”
“You mean an actual sleepover?”
“Pajamas, pillow fights, trashy magazine quizzes, face masks, and pizza. We can do whatever you want, as long as I get to hold you.”
“I think that sounds really nice.”
He reaches into his pocket, dangling a set of keys between his fingertips. “Then you’ll need these.”
My heart starts doing loopty loops. I reach out to take them, but he catches my wrist. His other hand finds the back of my neck and pulls me into him. The next thing I know, his lips are on mine, stealing the air from my lungs in a slow, desperate kiss that I don’t want to end.
I fall into him, and when his tongue licks my lips in a demanding plea, I open. He wastes no time tasting me.
When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against mine. “It’s a rare kind of reward, knowing I get to kiss you whenever I want.”
I press my lips to his once more. “Yeah, you can. I’m sorry I took so long to let you do it.”
“I’d wait a lifetime for you, Bookworm. But I’m glad I don’t have to anymore.”
By the time I reach Bakes by the Lakes, I’m floating on clouds. Chase’s text from earlier has me grinning from ear to ear.
Eighty-Seven: Can’t wait to kiss you goodnight tomorrow.
Elena greets me at the bottom end of the coffee bar, handing me my pistachio latte. “Hello, smiley.”
I toss some change into the tip jar.
“It’s a beautiful day to smile.”
She has a teasing tone when she says, “And is that because a certain hockey player is coming home tomorrow after being away for six days?”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling so big and shouting out, “YES!”
Elena giggles. “Young love,” she swoons. “It’s sooo romantic. Reminds me of when I met my Theo.”
Normally, I stay and talk to Elena for a while, but the coffee lovers start to pour in. I’m just about to move and grab a table when the bell at the top of the door rings.
A chill snakes over my arms so suddenly the hairs stand straight up. The air shifts, but I can’t make sense of it at first. The click-clack of heels slices through the café’s chatter, and my pulse stutters.
I know that sound.
My body picks up on it before my brain does. Everything goes deathly silent, except for those steps.
I get the urge to spin around and check for danger, like I’m in an alley and someone’s following me. I don’t because I know it’s my irrational thoughts and traumas making me react this way.
But then I hear it—a woman’s voice.
“You should have known better. I never wanted this to happen, but you left me no choice.”
My body locks, every muscle turning to stone.
That voice. Those words.
I’ve heard them before.
It’s her—the woman who killed my father.
She’s here.
“Two flat whites, please. One oat milk, one regular,” she says, her words cutting straight to the point.
Every sound in the shop, from the beans pouring into the grinder to the milk being steamed, heightens.
“So, this isn’t for whoever I’m assuming just got fired on the phone. Is the second coffee for a boyfriend or…” The barista’s tone is playful and flirtatious.
The woman laughs, and my stomach bottoms out.
My father’s killer is standing at the top of the bar ordering coffee, and my local barista is flirting with her.
“Also, can I get your name for the order?”
“He’s no one. Just a friend. And it’s Clarissa Rose.”
My cup slips from my hand, hot coffee spilling all over the wooden floor.
No.
“What the fuck, lady. You just dropped your coffee all over my shoes!” a man bellows as he stomps backward, an irritated groan ripping through him.
My trembling hand moves to cover my mouth.
He’s no one. Just a friend.
I’ve heard those words before, too.
“Um, hello? Are you just gonna stand there and pretend this isn’t happening?” His annoyance is obvious, but I do nothing but stand there.
I can’t move. I’m frozen, watching two memories slam together into one.
My mother lying on a desk. A man hovering over her.
Eight-year-old me hiding behind a pair of jeans and peeking through wooden spindles. Heart racing, ears ringing from the three loud shots.
My brain goes into overdrive, connecting dots until the horrifying picture forms. My eyes widen and my lungs seize, but no air fills them.
It’s not possible.
“Lady, did you hea—”
“Don’t. Touch. Her.” Brax’s commanding voice cuts through like a knife. His firm but gentle hands land on my arm, grounding me. “Erin, can you tell me what’s happening?”
I don’t answer, but I do glance over at him.
“Thanks, love,” the woman says, and there’s that click-clacking again, followed by the bell over the door chiming.
My knees buckle.
Brax catches me.
“I-I can’t breathe. I can’t be in here.”
The floor beneath me vanishes, and I’m left with the sensation of floating. I’m weightless as Brax’s arms lift me.
There’s a screeching sound, and then chilly air hits my face, but I’m not cold. My body burns as if being under the scorching sun all day.
I’m lowered onto a rough surface. The texture scratching against my palms.
“Erin, listen to me,” Brax says, his voice clear and confident. “You’re safe. You’re not where you think you are. Just breathe.”
But he’s wrong. It’s not just us. And I am exactly where I think I am—my childhood home.
I look down at my feet, coppery, dark blood spreading.
“I need to call 9-1-1. There’s blood everywhere. He’s dying, Brax. I have to save him. Please help me. I can’t do it on my own. Help me save my daddy.”
“Okay, Erin. Focus on your breathing. I’ll help. It’s gonna be alright.”
I glance at my hands. They’re painted red and sticky.
I try to wipe them off, but it does nothing. It continues to stick to me.