Chapter 37
The house was too quiet.
Chase had never noticed how loud silence could be until therapy started peeling him open.
He sat at the kitchen table with his elbows braced against the wood, hands locked together so tightly his knuckles had gone pale. Naomi had warned him this might happen. That once the memories started coming back, they wouldn't come in neat little boxes.
They would bleed.
And God, had they bled him dry with in this session.
His mother's laugh.
His grandmother standing over a stove humming old country songs while flour dusted the counter.
The smell of her perfume when she hugged him.
The sound of his mother crying after his father left.
Then the shift.
The darkness.
Cold concrete.
The ache in his ribs.
Hands tied.
The sound of boots against a floor.
Questions barked in a language he understood now but wished he didn't.
Pain.
So much pain.
The kind that changed a man.
His stomach twisted violently.
He shoved back from the table and planted both hands against the counter, breathing hard.
No.
No, no, no.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
He was home.
He wasn't there anymore.
But memory didn't care where you were.
These kinds of memories had a way of dragging you back.
A car door shut outside.
A few moments later, the front door opened.
"Chase?"
Aria's voice came from the front door as she stepped inside, setting her purse down slower than normal. Her brows pulled together almost instantly.
He knew what she saw. The tension in his shoulders, the way he couldn't sit still, the untouched coffee and his thousand yard stare.
She crossed the room slowly.
"Hey," she said gently.
He swallowed hard and looked away.
"Hey."
She crouched beside him.
"What happened?"
He laughed once, humorless.
"Apparently remembering your life sounds great until your brain decides to remember the worst damn parts."
Her expression softened.
"How bad?"
He rubbed a hand down his face.
"Bad enough I can't tell if I'm really here or there sitting in a damn room wondering if today's the day somebody finally kills me while hallucinating being home with you.
The honesty in his voice cracked something in her.
"Oh, Chase." She reached for him carefully, like approaching something wounded.
For a second, he let himself lean into it then he shook his head as he pulled away and stood.
"I'm fine."
"You are absolutely not fine."
He paced the kitchen.
"The session started with me seeing my grandma," he admitted quietly. "And my mom."
His throat tightened. "Then it switches." He looked at her, jaw tense. "And I then I am remembering things I don't wanna remember."
She didn't push because she already knew some of those awful memories, instead, she nodded once.
"Okay." She moved towards the refrigerator, "You eat today?" she asked.
He gave her a look.
"That's a no." She pulled out her phone.
"What're you doing?" he asked, as he watched her with sad and still slightly vacant eyes.
"Calling reinforcements." She smirked at him as she continued to go through the fridge.
"Aria..."
"Nope. You don't get to spiral alone."
He almost argued.
Almost.
But some exhausted part of him didn't have the energy. So, he said nothing and twenty minutes later, Parker's truck rolled into the driveway.
The screen door slammed open.
"Well," Parker announced, carrying a grocery bag in one hand and beer in the other, "Aria said you were going through another emotional crisis, so naturally I brought steak."
Chase snorted despite himself. "Your who she was calling... your bedside manner sucks."
"Yeah, but my seasoning doesn't."
Aria folded her arms. "Please tell me you didn't come here planning to therapize him."
Parker looked horrified.
"Absolutely not. Men don't do feelings. We grill meat and aggressively avoid the problem until emotional stability returns."
The smallest laugh slipped out of Chase, there he was, Aria released a breath she had not realized she had been holding as a crack in the storm appeared.
"That sounds deeply unhealthy," Aria said.
"It's tradition," Parker answered, as he headed towards the backyard and the grill.
An hour later, the grill smoked out back while the sun dipped low. The air smelled like charcoal and steak and for the first time today since therapy, Chase felt like he could breathe and his mind stopped trying to slip backwards... he was stable again.
He sat in a chair nursing a beer while Parker manned the grill.
Aria lingered nearby, pretending not to hover.
Parker glanced over at them as he flipped a steak.
"So," he said casually, flipping a steak. "Wanna talk about it?"
Chase stared into his bottle.
"No."
"Cool." Parker nodded once. "We'll talk about Ethan instead."
That got Chase's attention. "Oh God, do we have to?" he asked, but then he realized how rude that sounded so he added, "What happened now?"
Parker barked out a laugh. "Apparently hell froze over."
Aria sat down. "That bad?"
"That man called me at four this morning sounding like he was preparing for a murder charge."
Chase groaned. "No man calls another man at that hour unless it's really bad."
Parker pointed the tongs dramatically. "Yes, exactly."
Then came the bomb. "His ex is marrying his brother."
Chase blinked. "I'm lost... but I will say that sounds shitty."
Aria however gasped and said, "You're lying."
"I wish I was."
Aria's mouth dropped open. "No, poor Ethan. I know this is going to be hard on him."
Parker nodded solemnly. "Oh yeah. They sent him a wedding invitation and all."
Chase actually laughed, a real one this time. "That sounds brutal."
"Brutal?" Parker repeated. "That man is one inconvenience away from a felony."
Aria covered her mouth trying not to laugh. "Oh my God."
"I'm serious," Parker said. "He asked me if objecting at a wedding because the bride and grooms are both cheaters might count as a family crime."
Aria shook her head. "That sounds like Ethan is thinking of going."
Parker finally sat down by Chase. "He's taking it harder than he's pretending."
The humor faded some.
"Still loves her?" Chase asked.
Parker shrugged. "Maybe, Or maybe it's just hard watching somebody build the life you thought was gonna be yours."
Those words hit everyone heavier than Parker meant for it to.
Silence stretched because suddenly the conversation wasn't really about Ethan anymore.
Chase looked down at the bottle in his hands.
Parker noticed and didn't say anything he just nudged his shoulder.
"You know," Parker said quieter, "for what it's worth... therapy kicking your ass means it's working."
Chase huffed. "Feels more like losing my damn mind."
"You ain't losing it man." Parker turned serious for once. "You're just finally unpacking all of the hell you went through that stole your life from you."
Chase looked away. "I remembered things today I wish I didn't."
Parker nodded slowly. "Yeah, man that's going to happen when your therapist is good at their job... it's a necessary evil though and that's all I'm going to say."
Parker asked no questions and applied no pressure for answers. He just delivered understanding. The kind only somebody who had seen war and been affected by it could offer.
After a moment Parker stood again.
"Anyway," he said, reclaiming the mood. "Before we all become emotionally vulnerable and ruin the evening who wants to make the mashed potatoes?"
The kitchen slowly settled into silence after dinner.
Beer bottles sat forgotten near the sink. Steak plates stacked on the counter. The smell of charcoal still drifted faintly through the screen door.
Parker stood at the sink rinsing dishes despite Aria insisting twice that she'd handle it tomorrow.
"Your cooked from work," he said, scrubbing a plate. "Therefore, I'm cleaning."
"You made Ethan sound like he's two bad days away from prison," Aria said from the couch.
"He absolutely is."
From beside her on the couch, Chase huffed a tired laugh.
That had been happening more over the last hour. Little pieces of him surfacing with more small cracks in the storm. The deep spiral from earlier hadn't disappeared, but it had loosened its grip.
At some point during the conversation, Chase had shifted closer. Then closer still. Until his shoulder rested against hers. She hadn't said anything about it. She didn't tease him or make him move.
She just stayed there still allowing him to lean on her because after the day he'd had, he looked like he was holding himself together with thread.
Now he sat slouched beside her, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, head tipped slightly toward her. Exhaustion clung to him heavy and bone deep.
Parker glanced over from the kitchen and smirked. "You look about thirty seconds from face planting."
Chase flipped him off without opening his eyes. "Eat shit."
"Ah," Parker said. "I was right sarcasm actually is a tool for healing."
Aria smiled despite herself.
Then Chase shifted slowly, like his body had finally decided it had reached its limit.
His head dipped and he blinked once, twice, and before he could even fight it, gravity won.
He tipped sideways straight into her. She caught him instinctively.
"Whoa."
Chase muttered something unintelligible, clearly too exhausted to care about dignity.
Parker looked over his shoulder.
"Oh my God," he said. "Did Captain Tough Guy just short circuit?"
"Shut up," Chase mumbled, eyes closed.
Aria shook her head softly. "You're exhausted."
"No," he muttered. Then, after a pause: "Maybe."
Her chest tightened because this man, this stubborn, haunted, too proud man looked wrecked.
Emotionally hollowed out.
He shifted again like he meant to sit back up, but his body betrayed him.
So instead, gently, she adjusted. "Here."
He barely reacted when she tugged at his shoulder.
He didn't argue or resist which told her exactly how tired he really was.
She eased him down until his head rested in her lap, his long legs lifted to stretched across the couch.
For a second, she thought he might protest.
He didn't.
Just let out the deepest breath she'd heard from him all day.
Like maybe this was the first moment he'd felt safe since therapy cracked him open.
Parker went suspiciously quiet.
Aria glanced up.
He was standing in the kitchen doorway with a dish towel over his shoulder looking at them with an expression she couldn't quite place.
Something no longer teasing crossed his face this expression was sadder.
Then, realizing he'd been caught staring, he cleared his throat.
"Well," he muttered. "Guess I know who the favorite is."
"Jealous?" Aria asked quietly.
"Deeply." But there was warmth in it, the kind that felt protective and not intrusive.
Parker stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"How's he doing?"
Her hand moved absentmindedly through Chase's hair. "Not good."
Parker nodded once and just looked down at Chase for a second. His finally relaxed face at the exhaustion that had won.
"He needed this... he is lucky he has you. Take care of him," Parker said quietly.
Then he grabbed his keys from the counter.
"I'm heading out."
Aria moved to stand with the intent to walk him out but he shook his head.
"Nah. Stay with Sleeping Beauty."
She rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous."
"You love me."
"That is debatable."
Parker grinned.
Then before leaving, he looked back once.
His expression turning serious. "If he wakes up bad tonight..." he paused. "Call me."
Something about the way he said it showed he understood, he knew about nightmares and flashbacks. The kind of nights men like himself and Chase had to endure.
"I will," she said softly.
Parker nodded once. Then quietly let himself out.
The house settled again. Chase shifted slightly in her lap one hand unconsciously curling against her leg. His breathing had evened out now. Deep hard earned sleep had taken him for now.
She looked down at him, at the faint lines of tension still sitting between his brows.
Even asleep, he looked tired.
Her phone vibrated against the couch cushion.
She frowned.
Naomi.
Carefully, trying not to wake him, she answered. "Hey."
"Hi, sweetheart," Naomi said gently. "How'd he do after today?"
Aria looked down at Chase. "He crashed."
"That usually happens after such a harsh memory recovery sessions."
There was something careful in Naomi's voice, measured, like she'd called for more than just an update.
"He had a rough day," Aria admitted quietly. "Really rough."
"I figured."
Silence stretched for a beat.
Then:
"You have an appointment tomorrow."
Aria blinked.
"...I'm sorry, what?"
"With me."
She frowned harder.
"No, I don't."
"Yes," Naomi said calmly. "You do."
Aria let out a quiet laugh.
"No offense, but I think you've got the wrong person. Chase is the one who needs therapy."
"Aria."
Something shifted in Naomi's tone, gentle but firm. "You're coming."
Her brows pulled together. "For what?"
Naomi exhaled softly. "For everything you've been carrying."
Aria looked down at Chase sleeping in her lap.
At the man who disappeared.
At the man who came back.
Thinking of everything that happened in between.
Her throat tightened. "I'm fine."
"No," Naomi said softly. "You're functioning."
The words landed harder than they should have.
"I don't need therapy."
"That's usually what the people who need it most tell me."
Aria almost argued.
But Naomi kept going. "You've been surviving, sweetheart while you've been taking care of everyone else. And somewhere in all of that, you stopped checking on yourself."
Aria swallowed. "I don't even know what I'd say."
Naomi's voice softened. "You don't have to know. That's my job to help you with."
She hesitated. "I already cleared it with the hospital," Naomi added. "Tomorrow. Ten a.m."
Aria sighed quietly. "You don't really take no for an answer, do you?"
"Nope."
That actually pulled the smallest smile from her.
Then Naomi's voice gentled again. "And Aria?"
"Yeah?"
"You don't get to carry this alone anymore."
Her eyes drifted back to Chase. Sleeping finally peaceful and heavy in her lap.
Maybe Naomi had a point.
"Okay," she whispered. "I'll come."
"Good," Naomi said softly. "Now get some rest."
The call ended.
Aria sat there for a long moment.
Quiet.
One hand brushing slowly through Chase's hair.
Tomorrow.
Apparently, it was her turn to unpack the things she'd spent years pretending didn't hurt.