Chapter 42
Forty-Two
“Ally!”
Chip’s voice trailed Ally’s brisk escape to her new refuge beneath the sweeping, green vines of a giant willow, the labor of each breath causing her to stop and catch herself mid-cowardly escape.
She rounded on him, hot tears already running down her face.
“You can’t stay.” She swiped at her cheeks, swearing under her breath at her overwrought reaction. Of course, she’d fantasized about seeing him again, but she hadn’t imagined doing so while looking like a half-drowned river monster. “You can’t stay in Harlow.”
She wanted to push him away, but he stood out of reach, both hands jammed into his pockets. “This is my home too.”
“No.” Her voice shot out, ragged and pitchy, though some internal monologue screamed at her to get her act together. “Boston is your home. You left here. Ten years ago. This is my home, and you’re not allowed to ruin it for me.”
His chin jerked back a little, like the word “ruin” truly hurt him. His attention fell to the ground so that locks of rose-gold hair tumbled over his brow, that crestfallen image of him beautiful and heart-wrenching.
“I’m staying, Ally.” He offered a firmer tone, his gaze hitting her again, though with a steeliness she’d never before witnessed on him. “Regardless of how you feel about me. I’m staying.”
As much as she tried to open her mouth in protest, his intimidating and resolute stare turned her heart’s earlier flutter into a thundering gallop.
To make this situation worse, he pulled his hands from his pockets and strode closer. Again, she sought to back away. But again, she did nothing.
“Harlow is my home.” He softened his tone to something less harsh but just as inescapable and matter-of-fact. “I’m one reason the Syndicate is gunning for this place. I’m not leaving these people to fend for themselves.”
An incredulous laugh broke past her lips, and she thrust her hands out to her sides, gesturing to the space around her. “And what am I supposed to do? Just lump having you back in town?”
“You could do that.” He took another step forward, and she jolted away, his brow flexing in a look that hovered between disappointed and perplexed. “You could get used to seeing my face most days, or… there are other options.”
The river’s soft lap against its muddy banks filled the silence from her sudden lack of words. She drew a hard breath, centering her attention on the river’s damp and earthy scents—trying and failing to find a balance between anger, confusion, and some other emotion she just didn’t want to face.
“No. No other options.” Such flat refusal, marred by her husky delivery.
And in his usual way, Chip remained still. “I’m not leaving.”
“Yes, you are.” Her mouth bent into a frown, only for her to bite down on her lower lip, the action likely exposing her lack of resolve.
“And maybe while I’m around, you’ll come to see I’m fully capable of screwing up my life without your help.” A slow smile formed on his lips, forever self-assured even when he wasn’t. “And that I’m not my father, either. He says, ‘Hi’ by the way.”
A cold sensation washed down her arms, and her cheeks fell slack, meanwhile the mention of his father had adrenaline tweaking her pulse. Her fear of history repeating now battled against Bill’s supposed greeting.
“Your dad, what?” Her breathy tone gave sound to her disbelief.
She and Chip were too dissimilar, Chip far too perfect for a now-unapologetically helter-skelter woman like herself.
“We talked, and believe it or not, without fighting for a change.” His eyes softened, and he offered an overly casual shrug. “There are things you don’t know about my parents’ breakup. Things even I didn’t know up until recently. They had other issues besides Harlow and my dad’s lack of career glory. So if you’re scared we’ll make the same mistakes, maybe consider we’re all very different people.”
A small scoff escaped her, and she shook her head. “You think I didn’t consider that?”
His eyes narrowed on her, and he drew out a slow pause, strain apparent over his clenched jaw, as though he fought a wave of hurt and defense. “I have no idea what you considered, Ally. We never really talked this out, did we?”
He raised a brow, daring her to deny his point, but between her running away and then fighting the effects of a concussion, there hadn’t been much time to talk.
Perhaps in a sign he found convincing her more difficult than planned, he scratched behind his ear. his chin tilted to the ground, although his gaze still lifted to hers.
“So, did you ever stop to reflect on the fact that my dad is an adult and responsible for his own mistakes? And so am I?” He now held that all-knowing look of his, the one that always seemed to see right through her. “How about letting me fall on my own sword on this one?”
She shrugged, fully aware she’d been too busy trying not to disappoint him to allow room for him to fail right along with her.
And even though she shrugged, her voice still hitched on her next words. “Maybe because I’d be falling too?”
“Ally—”
“I mean, why put speed signs out if we’re all supposed to just learn from our own mistakes?” She shot out a manic-sounding laugh, the analogy way too astute for her, her comment on falling also way too honest.
He frowned. “Fair point, but no one will die here, and you’re assuming I’ve inherited my dad’s addiction to success. Which, by the way, turns out to be his coping mechanism. Personally, I prefer a slower pace.”
“I can’t ask you to drop your prospects to be with me.”
“Who says I’d be dropping anything?”
“Look around. There’s nothing here for you.”
“There’s you.”
“I don’t want to be your only reason.”
He barked out a laugh. “Jesus, Ally. Don’t I get a say here? If all you can see in me, and all that’s holding you back, is my career potential, then you’re no better than my dad.”
Her lips parted at the comparison between his dad’s beliefs and hers. “Except he made you feel you weren’t enough, but in this case, I’m the one who’s lacking. You deserve someone more worldly. More like you.”
His stare latched on to her, and he gave a small shake of his head, stepping in impossibly close. “I don’t like it when you talk about yourself that way. You’re not guileless or simple minded, you’re not anything but brilliant to me. I see your frustration at the world around you, but maybe that’s just because you do and see things differently, which is another thing I like about you. You’re creative and fun—more fun than I’ve had in a long time—and you’re so many things that I’m not. You’re everything I need, Ally. Do you understand? And despite what you think”—he wrinkled his nose—“I have no desire to date a female version of myself. Gross. ”
A laugh broke through her at his joke. “I hadn’t thought of it like that, but I get your point.”
“Good.” His smile inched higher. “Can you hurry up now and get the rest of it too? So we can get to where we’re supposed to be. Together.”
“I…” Her voice cracked, and she pursed her lips, unable to truthfully say she did believe all those nice things he’d said about her.
“Why can’t you see?” He let out an exasperated sigh and turned away, face lifting to the sky in a way that only made her feel more clueless. “Fuck it, Ally, you might not want to hear it, but I love you. Every time you say that stuff about yourself—even when you just think it—you hurt yourself. You hurt the woman I love. The woman I chose . And so, you hurt me too.”
Chip wasn’t a swearing sorta guy, and her lips pressed tighter, repressing the wild storm of emotions swirling within her and threatening to break out. And the bit about him loving her… about choosing her. She’d known all that but hearing it… hearing it was another experience altogether. As was the prospect of turning him down after all he’d just said.
He spun back around, the stern creases over his forehead indicating she was the only one his words surprised. “If you won’t speak, then at least think on this question. Do I make bad choices?”
Though tears welled in her eyes, she still shook her head.
And he chose me!
He marched over and cupped her cheeks, the tender act adding to the sting in her eyes. “I know you don’t believe me yet, but we don’t have to be the same to make this work. Your fresh perspective makes you an asset, not a liability, and I don’t intend to do all the thinking for us. I want the arguments and clashes of opinions. I want a partner. Ally, I want you.”
Unsure how he’d wrangled control over this conversation, a small chuckle broke from her, and her first tears tumbled free. But once again, he was right.
He didn’t generally make bad choices. And even if she couldn’t believe his glowing views on her, to her, he was perfect. In every way possible.
So as much as she sought to again think he was more than she deserved, his words about not even thinking self-critical things rose to stop her.
He’s changing me already.
While she could maybe lay off herself, accepting him back into her life meant accepting that this all could fail spectacularly. It meant accepting the chance of yet another heartbreak.
“But you’ll grow to hate me.” The words rasped through her throat, designed as a deflection that now inadvertently exposed another painful belief.
He gave an easy shrug and touched his forehead to hers. “And maybe you’ll hate me. I’m still willing to find out.”
His gaze held for a weighty beat, lips curling higher until sheer laughter rippled between them. A new hush took over, and he stroked her cheek, vying for her full attention. “Ally, I’m all in. How about you?”
More tears fell, and she blinked them away to give him a quick nod.
He chose me.
Time I chose him too.
Her heart felt suddenly lighter, and not a single moment had passed when she hadn’t wanted him. Not in the weeks apart, especially not now he stood before her— in Harlow —his refusal to leave an admittedly compelling reason to at least give this love a chance.
His lips collided over hers, stealing her ability to form another thought, save to absorb the sweet support of being pressed to him, his hands cradling her head while he dominated this kiss.
But she clung to him, too, the space beneath her chest feeling fuller than ever, even as new and happy laughter pushed for release.
The need for air eventually pulled them apart, and his gaze held joyful and bright, his lips parting as though he sought to speak. She knew what he had to say, and frankly, she wanted her turn to talk. So, she clapped her hand over his mouth and chuckled. “I love you, too, Chip Overton.”
She dropped her hand to find his lips pushed into a broad grin. Though he drew in to snare her with another kiss, a loud cheer broke from the flour mill’s direction. Thinking those cheers were meant for Blaine and Emilia, that something particularly fun had happened at their wedding, she glanced over to find the attention of about two hundred wedding guests turned to her.
Instant shock jolted her out of Chip’s hold. He turned to the wedding party, his quick laughter feeding her own, as more cheers and whoops broke loose at the crowd’s delight at being caught watching.
He grabbed her hand, and though her cheeks burned, she ran with the spirit of unfettered elation—bowing to her captive audience and instinctively knowing Chip would join her.
And he did. Of course, he did.
Only to swing her back to him for one last kiss.