Chapter 21
Chains POV
“We need to talk.”
Those words were simple, but they barely scratched the surface of what I felt. Cleo didn’t move, and neither did I, just for a moment. Part of me wished I’d stayed in the truck. I’d already spent four days doing that, avoiding her and this talk. But all it did was push me further from the only place I wanted to be.
Here. With her.
I ran my hand down my face and let out a slow breath. Her eyes narrowed a bit, careful but steady. That steadiness hit me harder than I expected. It made everything more difficult, not easier.
“I’ve been an idiot,” I added.
Something changed in her expression. It wasn’t a smile or relief. She was just listening closely. I shifted a little on the porch swing but didn’t move away. I couldn’t do that anymore.
“I pulled back,” I admitted. “After the clubhouse. After Peaches.”
Her expression tightened at the name, but she didn’t interrupt.
“I shouldn’t have,” I continued. “And it wasn’t about you the way you probably think it was.”
Her voice was quiet. “Then what was it about?”
That was the real question. I looked at her for real then, really seeing her. She was the woman I’d been drawn to for months, even if I hadn’t admitted it.
“I was scared,” I said simply.
Cleo didn’t answer right away, like she was deciding if she believed me. I couldn’t blame her. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have believed it either. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
“I need you to understand something,” I said. “About me. About why people think I’m… like I am.”
Her brow furrowed slightly.
“Chains..”
“My name’s Gabe,” I said quietly. “Gabriel Mercer.” That made her pause, not because of the name but because of the weight behind it.
“Only a few people call me that,” I added. “Rick. Stella. No one else really knows me like that.”
Her expression softened a little. I swallowed and kept going.
“There was an accident,” I said. “Years ago. Bike. Bad one.”
Her eyes flicked over me, like she was seeing me differently now.
“It did more than break bones,” I went on. “It made the doctors unsure about things I wasn’t ready to face.”
Her breath caught slightly. I didn’t need to spell it out further.
“I decided not to risk anyone building a future around me,” I said. “Something I might not be able to give them.”
Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Honest.
“I shut it down,” I added. “Relationships. Anything that looked like it might become… real.”
My jaw tightened. “And then you showed up.”
That made her go completely still.
“I didn’t plan for you,” I said. “Or Tommy or Skylar.” My voice softened without me meaning it to, and I added, “But you all happened anyway.”
I let out a short, humorless breath. “And now I don’t know how to stop wanting all of it.”
Cleo’s expression changed. I saw something vulnerable there, careful, unsure, and a bit overwhelmed.
“Cleo,” I said quietly. Her eyes lifted to mine. “I didn’t pull away because I don’t want you,” I said.
“I pulled away because I do.” That landed. I saw it. “I fell in love with you,” I said simply.
There was no extra explanation, no hesitation, just the truth. Then, even softer: “First you.”
Her breath hitched.
“Then Tommy and Skylar.”
A faint, broken sound left her.
I shook my head slightly. “And now I can’t picture my life without any of you in it.”
We sat in silence, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It felt raw and real. I leaned back a little, watching her. “I didn’t know what to do with that,” I admitted. “Still don’t, not completely.” I almost smiled.
“But I know running from it was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
*****
Cleo POV
I stayed quiet for a moment because I wasn’t sure I could speak. My chest felt tight, and I knew why. It wasn’t fear or doubt, but something softer. It felt dangerous because I understood him more than I expected, more than I wanted to admit.
“You thought I’d leave,” I said quietly.
It wasn’t a question. He nodded once. “Yeah.”
My throat tightened slightly. “That’s not what I was thinking,” I said.
His gaze sharpened. “What were you thinking then?”
I exhaled slowly. “That you were already halfway gone.”
Something flickered across his face at that: pain, regret, and recognition.
“I wasn’t gone,” he said immediately. “I just didn’t know how to stay without ruining it.”
I looked at him, really looked. This was the man who had been there for my kids without hesitation, who had helped my dad, who had made room in our lives without ever asking for anything back.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I said quietly.
His jaw tightened. “I could have,” he said. “If I’d stayed in my head much longer.” He paused, then said more softly, “You deserve someone who doesn’t hesitate with you, Cleo.”
That almost made me laugh. Almost, because he clearly didn’t realize what he’d already done.
“I’ve spent most of my life being left,” I said honestly. “Or learning to live with people leaving.”
His expression changed instantly. “That’s not…”
“Let me finish,” I said gently. He stopped. “I’m not scared of your past,” I added. “Or your accident.” His eyes held mine. “And I’m not scared of what this could become.”
A beat.
“I just didn’t realize I was already in it.”
He let out a slow breath, like he’d been holding it in for days. Maybe even longer. I moved a little closer. Not much, but enough.
“I’m falling in love with you,” I said.
He closed his eyes for a moment. It hurt and healed both at once. When he looked at me again, something was different. It wasn’t more intense, just clearer.
He didn’t speak, so I did. “You don’t get to disappear when it gets hard,” I said softly.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good,” I said.
A faint, unsteady smile crossed his face. “You’re bossy,” he murmured.
“Always have been.”
That earned a quiet breath of laughter from him. Something easing between us. Not everything, but enough.
I looked at him for a long moment, then lifted my hand and rested it gently on his cheek. He went still, as if he didn’t want to break the moment.
“You are not Wade,” I said gently.
His gaze sharpened. “I know,” he replied immediately.
“And you’re not here to replace him,” I added.
“I’m not trying to.”
I nodded once.
“I know.”
A pause. Then quieter:
“But you are here.”
His hand turned slightly under mine. Fingers stroking. Careful. Reverent.
“Yes,” he said.
That one word meant everything. I moved before I could overthink it, before I could talk myself out of it, before fear could get in the way again. I leaned in and closed the space between us, kissing him. It wasn’t rushed or unsure. It was a choice.
His hand lifted almost instantly, settling gently at my jaw like he’d been waiting for permission without knowing it.
When he kissed me back, it wasn’t desperate. It was steady, like something was finally falling into place. When we pulled apart, just a little, his forehead rested against mine. We didn’t say anything. The porch swing moved gently beneath us. The night felt quieter—not empty, but full. For the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like I was waiting for loss.
I felt like I was standing in something that might actually stay.