Chapter 22
Violet
I knew that I was pushing Ford away, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. It was like watching from outside my own body, helpless as the part of me behind the wheel hit the gas instead of the brakes. I could see the cliff coming. I could feel the drop waiting ahead. And still, I didn’t stop.
Ford was the best man I’d ever met. Sexy as hell. Patient and strong. Gentle without being a pushover. He called me out when I needed it. He didn’t try and own me. I felt safe with him, and that was part of the problem, because safety and security never lasted for me. Not once.
You could have put his family in danger, I told myself, but that was just an excuse and I knew it.
The truth was simpler, and it cut deeper.
I was terrified of what it meant to need Ford.
To care that much. Terrified that he’d see too much of me and finally realize what everyone else did.
That I was too stubborn. Too damaged and broken. Too hard to love for long.
In my world, I didn’t trust love to stay or that sense of security to last. And every time Ford looked at me like I was worth keeping, I felt the ground shift under me, like the universe was winding up to take it all away from me.
I told myself it was better to retreat now, before I got even more attached, that losing him would truly devastate me. It was both cowardly and self-preservation.
Still, some dark, restless part of me almost wanted Ford to get angry.
To snap and prove me right. To show me the limits of his patience, the breaking point where he decided I wasn’t worth the trouble after all.
Because then I could stop pretending that this thing between us was different. That he was different.
If he yelled, if he walked away, I knew how to survive that kind of pain.
Anger I could handle. Disappointment I could outlast. But kindness?
Consistency? A man who stayed even when I’d given him reasons not to?
That scared me more than anything. Because if Ford really was the man he seemed to be, then I was running out of excuses.
Chase drove me to the few errands I needed to run before work, quiet beside me, which was fine with me since I was all up in my head with my own thoughts. I didn’t have to pretend with him. He knew enough not to pry or ask questions, and I was for once grateful for his more stoic personality.
I started my shift, forcing myself to smile and engage with the players at my table. Work was the perfect distraction. Numbers, chips, the rhythmic shuffle of cards. No messy emotions. No complicated men.
By the time my break rolled around, my nerves were frayed.
I grabbed a plate from the buffet and found Chase beside me, piling food like he was carb-loading for a marathon.
The man could clearly pack it away and was still solid muscle, which was impressive.
We met back at our table, eating in silence for a few minutes while the noise of the restaurant and casino filled the quiet between us.
Finally, I decided to be a little conversational. “So, how’s the wedding planning going?” I asked, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel.
“You should ask Andrea about that,” Chase replied, stabbing his fork into a piece of grilled chicken. “I don’t really have an opinion, other than don’t invite a thousand people.”
My mouth curved into a small grin. “Well that’s good because Andrea doesn’t know a thousand people to invite,” I teased.
Chase’s lips twitched with amusement and we engaged in a bit more small talk as we finished our meal. Before I started my shift again, I decided to check my phone for any messages, dreading the fact that there might be ones from Ford. I wasn’t ready to talk to him about everything yet.
I was both relieved and disappointed to see he hadn’t called or texted me. However, I had several missed phone calls from an unknown number. There was a voicemail, too.
I clicked on it and put it up to my ear, my stomach twisting because in this current state of my life, with someone actively terrorizing me, I didn’t know what to expect.
“Hi, Miss Corbin,” the woman leaving the message said.
“This is Melissa calling from Valley Hospital Medical Center. You’re listed as the emergency contact for a patient named Christopher Young.
I’m calling to let you know that he’s been admitted following an assault.
He’s stable right now, but he did sustain several injuries and is being treated for bruising and a possible concussion.
There’s no sign of internal or organ damage at this time, but he’s still in rough condition.
We’d like you to come in when you can, or give us a call back at your earliest convenience. ”
For a second, the world around me blurred. The low casino noise, the clinking of dishes, even Chase’s voice asking if I was okay. All I could hear was the nurse’s words replaying in my head. Assault. Injuries. Concussion.
My fingers went numb, and the phone nearly slipped from my grasp. Christopher. My brother. The image of him lying hurt somewhere sent a bolt of cold panic through me so sharp it stole my breath. Had my brother been targeted by the person or people terrorizing me to send some kind of message?
“I—” My throat closed up and I forced myself to get the words out. “I have to go. My brother’s in the hospital and—”
Chase was already on his feet before I even finished the sentence, his expression tightening with concern. But I barely registered it. My pulse was roaring in my ears, my body already in motion, trying to hold myself together when I was frantic to get to Christopher.
We told my boss there was a family emergency, that my brother was in the hospital, then rushed out of the casino. Once we arrived, Chase stayed in the lobby while a nurse led me to Christopher’s room.
My heart was in my throat as I entered and rushed toward his bed. My first glimpse of him knocked the air from my lungs. He lay against the white sheets, one eye swollen shut, chest wrapped in bandages and gauze. His nose was definitely broken, and a livid bruise colored his jaw.
“Christopher.” I hurried to take his hand, careful not to jar him.
His good eye flickered open, unfocused but aware. “I…told them…not to call you,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and weak.
I wanted to ask him why the hell not. I was his sister, his only family, but I bit it back. Instead, I focused on him and his injuries. “What happened?”
“I’m…fine,” Christopher insisted, though every shallow and pained breath said otherwise.
“You’re clearly not fine.” My voice shook with equal parts fear and anger that someone had done this to him. “What happened?” I asked again.
He winced, turning his head slightly, looking away from me. “I said…not…to call anyone,” he wheezed.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He was deflecting, and that set off alarm bells in my gut because I recognized this defensive behavior.
He was hiding something from me. I’d seen this look before, when he was a teenager and he’d gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd, trying to convince me everything was fine while the fear in his eyes said otherwise.
He'd never been good at lying to me, not completely. Whatever had happened, I was now fairly certain it hadn’t been random. Someone had done this to him for a reason, and he was terrified to tell me why.
“Christopher,” I said, softening my tone and imploring him to open up to me. “You’re not telling me something. I can see it. What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” he said, the kind of denial meant to shut me down, not reassure me. He was scared, not just hurt. And whatever he was keeping from me was big enough to make him risk lying to my face.
I hit my breaking point and snapped. “Bullshit,” I said, done trying to gently coax the truth from him.
“Don’t you dare lie to me, not when you look like this.
” My throat burned as I forced out the words.
“You think I can’t tell when you’re scared?
I know you, Christopher. I raised you more than Mom ever did.
So don’t tell me it’s nothing when someone clearly did this to you for a reason. ”
He finally turned his head to look at me. I saw the guilt and pain in that single unbruised eye, and I knew I’d struck the truth he didn’t want to say out loud.
But he did anyway. “What’s been happening to you…” he started slowly, his voice cracking, “it’s my fault.”
My pulse stuttered. “What?” The word came out small, sharp, and disbelieving all at once. My mind scrambled to make sense of what he’d just said, but it didn’t fit.
I searched his face, desperate for some sign he was confused, that the pain meds were twisting his words, but the look on his battered face was clear. Haunted. Real. My stomach knotted as dread coiled through me.
“Christopher,” I whispered, more gently now. “What do you mean it’s your fault?”
He swallowed hard. “You remember those…guys I used to run with?”
The mention of them hit me like a punch to the chest. My whole body went rigid, the air seeming to thin around me. Those guys. The ones who’d nearly dragged him down years ago. The ones I’d thought he was finally free of.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I remember. You said you were clear of them.”
“I was.” He exhaled shakily, his voice trembling under the weight of what came next.
“But they found out where I work. You know the crown that’s coming in, the one for the exhibit?
It’s worth millions. Four million, actually.
” His words came haltingly, every one of them heavier than the last. “They want me to help them steal it.”
I could literally feel the blood drain from my face, and for a moment, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. All I could do was stare at him, the brother I’d spent my life protecting, realizing he was tangled up in something that could ruin his life forever.
“You can’t,” I whispered, dread filling every inch of me.