22. Treading Water
Chapter twenty-two
Treading Water
Brody
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It’s been a full day of her dodging me, and now Mason’s sitting across from me, looking way too pleased with himself for my liking. Every word, every look, every goddamn second with her has been on a loop in my brain for the last twenty-four hours.
That I told you so look scrapes every last nerve. “You’re not helping.”
Lakeside Café is mostly empty, with only a few people scattered around during the midmorning lull.
The burger in front of me sits untouched. The bun’s gone soggy, and the cheese has started to harden at the edges. Across from me, Mason’s already plowed through most of his. Naturally, nothing screws with that man’s appetite, not even my personal crisis.
“Okay, okay, let me help,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. There’s a streak of mustard drying on his cheek, but he doesn’t notice. “Call her.”
He wipes his hands, flicks the crumbs off his fingers, and grins at me, fully convinced he’s saved the damn day.
“Wow. Bright idea, genius. I don’t know why I never thought of that. I’m saved. ”
His face drops. “She’s not taking your calls?”
“Calls, texts. Radio silence,” I reply, my shoulders sagging with defeat. Can’t remember the last time a woman made me feel like this.
But Chloe isn’t just any woman, right? No, she’s the one who walked in, rearranged everything, and made me face shit I didn’t know I should. She’s more than I thought I’d find. Ever.
I’m in love with her. Shit. That’s what this is.
“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Mason sighs. “She seemed fine when I ran into her in the cafeteria. Even joking with me.”
“Joking? With you?” My voice edges into accusation. She won’t look at me, won’t return my calls, but she’s throwing punchlines with Mason like nothing happened?
“What did you say to her?”
He lifts both hands, already over my attitude. “Relax. We talked about lobster and girls. She asked about Chase, but it was nothing serious.”
“What about him?” My voice sharpens. I love my brother, but his timing’s garbage, and he has a talent for stirring shit up. If this is tied to him showing up and running his mouth...
“The usual,” he says with a shrug. “She wanted to know what he does for work, what he’s about… why he’s so much better looking than you.”
He cracks up.
I don’t. My jaw clenches so hard my molars might shatter. My cheek still stings from her slap, and the look in her eyes when I opened that damn office door? Christ, it makes me sick.
“You think this is funny?” I ask.
“No. But you’re pissed and spinning out. Don’t take it out on me. ”
“I want to apologize. Fix things,” I say. “But she won’t let me get a word in. I don’t think she ever will.”
I stare at my plate. Cold burger. Gut full of bricks. The anger and regret are stacked high and tight, making it damn near impossible to think straight.
“The way she looked at me… like I was nothing.”
Mason exhales, then wipes his mouth with his napkin. “So go to her. If she won’t answer, show up. You know where she is.” His fist slams the table, sharp and final, no room for debate.
I sit back, surprised he doesn’t throw another smartass comment.
“Don’t give me that look,” he mutters, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth. “You’re walking around with wounded golden retriever vibes.”
He points a fry at me. “At least when you were all googly-eyed, you weren’t dragging the entire room down. It’s sad and annoying.”
Unfazed, he scoops up what’s left of his burger. “Go talk to her. Don’t be a chickenshit. Make it right. For me. Because I can’t keep showing up for meals with Eeyore.”
“You’re an asshole.” I huff out a laugh, can’t help it.
“And you’re a goddamn idiot,” he fires back. “You can run multi-million-dollar companies but can’t manage one woman with a backbone.”
“Oh, I’m the idiot? You once got dumped because you tried to deep-throat a cheeseburger in front of a vegan.”
A devilish grin spreads across his face before he opens wide and shoves the last chunk of his burger in, cheeks bulging, half-chewing, half-choking, fully committed.I can't hold it in. The laugh bursts out, punching right through my chest.
“Remind me again why I bother with you,” I say, shaking my head, trying not to laugh but losing the battle.
He leans back, arms crossed, satisfied. Like the world’s at peace and he’s somehow responsible.
I laugh harder, grateful despite everything still tangled up inside me. Mason has this gift for taking a weighty situation and making it light enough to breathe again.
“You boys still okay over here?” Sylvie asks, stepping up with a fresh pot of coffee.
He tries to answer through a mouthful of fries, and I lift a hand to save everyone from whatever gross, half-chewed nonsense is about to come out of his mouth.
“Food’s great. I’ll take a refill,” I say, motioning to my untouched plate.
Sylvie’s eyes flick to the full burger, and she gives me a look that quietly calls bullshit. She tops off both mugs and walks off without a word.
The bell over the café’s door chimes, and if my brain is ever going to get its shit together, now’s the time.
My seat gives me the perfect view, and there she is. Chloe.
Simple T-shirt, soft cotton shorts, chestnut hair knotted into a messy bun. Her beautiful eyes scan the café, calm and casual… until they lock on Sylvie.
Her smile drops.
“I’ll be right with you, honey,” Sylvie says, waving her over .
But Chloe doesn’t move. She freezes in the doorway, posture tense, expression unreadable.
My gut flips. Violently.
Mason turns, mid-chew, catching the change in the air. And that’s all it takes.
She backs out. No pause. No words. Turns and walks away.
He jerks his chin toward the door, eyes bulging as he tries to chew faster. “What are you waiting for?”
I’m pushing out of the booth before he’s finished the sentence.
Sylvie shifts to the side, as I nearly knock into her.
“Sorry.” I steady her with a hand, not slowing down. “Get the bill,” I call to Mason.
He mumbles something about the company card, maybe makes another wiseass remark, but it doesn’t matter.
“Chloe, wait.”
I pick up the pace, fast enough to catch her, because letting her go thinking I don’t care? It isn’t an option.
“I don’t have time, Brody,” she says, folding her arms over her chest. “I have somewhere to be.”
Yeah, right. She just walked into the café. She didn’t have anywhere to be until she walked in and saw me. I know a getaway plan when I see one.
“Hold on a second.” I reach out and gently take her arm.
She doesn’t pull away, but her arms fold tighter, her focus drifting somewhere I can’t reach—trying way too hard to look unfazed. I drop my hand.
Her face stays blank. “Is this about the project? My dad called me this morning, said you and Mayor Dawson reached some kind of middle ground.”
The project? That’s the play she’s making now. Pretending this is business. Pretending we didn’t blow apart in my office.
“Yeah… actually, it is.” I lie. It doesn’t matter how I keep her here—only that I do.
For a second, something slips. A hitch in her eyes, maybe. But it vanishes, buried under that calm she throws on when she wants out.
She didn’t expect me to roll with it, and that gives me the tiniest bit of satisfaction. I’ve gone toe-to-toe with worse.
“Well?” She raises a brow. That look used to come with a smile. “Fill me in. I don’t have all day.”
“Can we go back inside?” I keep my tone easy, careful. “Sit down, have a coffee, talk this through like normal people.”
She gives a brisk shake of her head and takes two steps back. Her shoulders lock, chin lifts, and whatever softness was left in her eyes drains out, replaced by that blank look people get when they’ve stopped pretending to care.
“I told you, I–”
“Have somewhere to be, yeah, I got it.” There’s that sharp edge again. But I play along. “Okay, then we’ll talk here.”
“You’ll talk,” she says flatly. “I’ll listen. Then I leave.”
No room for misunderstanding there.
She doesn’t flinch. She’s all business now, and I hate how easy that switch came to her. Everything that happened between us has already erased.
“Dawson’s agreed to give me the land next to the lodge so we can build our golf course, instead of sticking it halfway across town. In return, we’ll build a new rec center with full sports grounds, big enough to bring in outside teams.”
She draws a slow, deliberate breath. Then another. Her hands clench slightly at her sides before she catches herself and smooths her fingers along her arms.
None of what I said is true. Yeah, I met with the mayor, but no deals were made. I have no idea what Chloe’s dad was talking about.
But she doesn’t have to know that.
“I don’t believe you.” For a second, her emotional wall wavers, enough for me to see that little tremble in her bottom lip. It fucking kills me. I want to pull her in, hold her, tell her I’m sorry, maybe kiss her senseless.
I stay put.
My hands bury deep in my pockets. Chest tight. Every part of me is screaming to say what actually matters.
What comes out is the version that keeps her from walking away.
“Well, believe it. You’ve always known that Stirling Tech is here to stay. And I’m handling things as respectfully as I–”
“Respect?” She lets out a hollow laugh. “Spare me the bullshit. You don’t know the first thing about respect. You and your piles of money sweep in, take whatever you want, and toss it aside like trash.”
“I’ve been upholding my end of the deal,” I argue, refusing to back down. “Everything we’re doing is keeping to the best practice agreement, conserving Bluepeak’s essence, or whatever you call it.”
“You’ll be flattening several acres with that golf course!
" Her voice rises, drawing attention from people nearby who can’t help but slow down and watch the scene unfold.
Perfect. I’m sure I’m giving them all the entertainment they need for the day.
“Your stupid project is going to wipe out entire stands of indigenous trees, Brody. Some of them have been here longer than this town’s been on a map.
Not to mention the species it’ll displace—most of them won’t survive.
This isn’t respect; it’s careless and disgusting.
You don’t give a shit. You’re thrilled to slap your signature on anything that’ll make you more money.
You used me. The only reason you ever gave me the time of day was to grease the wheels on this project. ”
“Is that what you really think?” I can feel my grip on reality starting to slip. We’re not arguing about the project anymore, are we? “Answer me, Chloe. Do you actually believe I’m that person? Some greedy bastard who doesn’t give a fuck about anything unless it has a price tag attached to it?”
She shrugs, her eyes are ice-cold. “If the shoe fits.”
Okay, that one fucking hurt. “Yeah? Well, what would a small-town lodge manager know about running an empire anyway? You wanna talk about shoes that fit? You’re so quick to preach from your soapbox, but you’ve been too scared to step outside of this dead-end town your entire life.
You wouldn’t last a week in the real world. ”
Her voice drops. “Stop.” It’s soft, but it’s the look on her face—the way her lip is quivering—that makes me pause. It almost knocks the wind out of me. “Stop it.”
But I keep going. Because I’m too far in and too pissed to back out now.
“Of course you shut down the second someone pushes back. That’s your move, right? Daddy’s favorite, the town’s little princess—throwing stones from behind a 'Save the Trees' sign and expecting the world to pat you on the back for it.”
“Enough.” Her voice breaks, but her stance doesn’t.
Why can’t I shut the fuck up? I want to take it all back, every word. But my mouth keeps running like I have something to prove.
“You always do this. Hide behind your cause. Play the part. You get to be the hero while someone else takes the hit. That’s how it works, right? You get your little badge of honor and walk away clean.”
She doesn't move. When she speaks, it’s with the kind of calm that makes your skin crawl.
“You want to keep swinging? Go ahead. But don’t act shocked when I stop giving a shit. You always make it about you. Like you’re the only one with something to lose.” Her voice shakes. But she reins it in fast.
“You’re not the villain I thought you were, Brody.”
She holds my stare.
“You’re worse.”
Ouch. That was basically a kick to the balls.
“I saw it. All of it. Who you were, who you are. And I still thought you’d prove me wrong.”
The wind picks up. Somewhere behind us, a car door slams. The world keeps turning like none of this matters.
She takes a breath, then steps back.
“You had every chance to be the exception. But you chose not to be.”
There’s no softening, no explanation. The words hang between us, heavier than anything I could say.
She turns.
And I let her go.
Because chasing her now won’t unbreak what I already shattered.