Chapter 31 Chase
I pound my fist against the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Pain shoots through my knuckles, but I barely register it over the thunder rattling through my bones. The door swings open a few seconds later.
Brax fills the space, wearing his signature scowl and no shirt, a bag of marshmallows dangling from one hand. He doesn’t move aside to let me in.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Erin gave me strict instructions not to let you in if you were carrying that ‘I should have been here’ expression on your face,” Brax says, shoving a marshmallow in his mouth.
My lips twitch.
“And it’s clearly there,” he adds, chewing lazily as he points at my face.
Even when she’s falling apart, my brave girl is still thinking about me.
“Fine,” I say evenly, eyes narrowing. “I’ll stay out here until my attitude simmers enough to qualify for entry.”
Brax winks. “Wise choice.”
“But I need to know—is she okay?” The words come off as more accusatory than I intend. I know if I keep this up, I’m not getting inside.
“She’s okay. Camping with Roman out back.”
I blink. “What?”
“She came with me to pick him up from school. Friday means ice cream. Roman noticed she wasn’t her usual smiley self.”
Of course he did.
“When tacos didn’t get her to smile…”
“She loves tacos,” I mutter.
“He asked what made her happy. She said camping. Kid grabbed the tent and sleeping bags. They’ve been out back ever since. I’ve made them at least a dozen s’mores.”
“You’ve got a real heartbreaker on your hands,” I say, reaching inside the bag of marshmallows. “You know that, right?”
Brax smirks. “As long as he doesn’t come home before twenty-five and say, ‘Hey, Dad, I got a girl pregnant,’ I’ll survive.”
“Emma telling you she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened to you, even if you’re not together.”
“Yeah,” Brax says, his lips tugging at the corner. “Yeah, it was.”
“What happened, Brax?”
He arches a brow. “Shit, Pretty Boy, are you a virgin? Sometimes when a guy likes a girl, they get naked in a truck bed and—”
The marshmallow I lob at him bounces off his peck. He swats it away like a cat.
“When Roman gets older and asks how babies are made, because he’s not buying the bird thing, that’s exactly how I’m telling him.”
Finally, Brax steps aside, smirking.
The tension drains from me as I move past him and plonk down on the sofa.
“She had a panic attack,” Brax explains.
“She told me they only happen after nightmares, but she also hasn’t had one in a long time,” I sigh.
“Her mom showed up at Bakes by the Lakes today. Erin heard her voice and put a few pieces together. She figured out the person who shot her father was her mother,” he says quietly. “She told me she was there.”
My heart drops like a stone being thrown off a cliff, thunking loudly in the deep waters below.
“She also told me her mom made her stay quiet about what she saw.”
I catch the tick in Brax’s jaw. His eyes darken in a controlled manner but burn hotter than fire. I’ve seen this look before. Rage wrapped in discipline. He wore it the day he found out his dad was cheating.
Brax can be a patient man, but he doesn’t tolerate betrayal.
Not then, not now.
At fifteen, he knew right from wrong. He gave his dad a choice—confess or lose him. Sebastian chose wrong. Brax walked out, changed his last name to his mom’s, and moved in with Emma’s family until he left for bootcamp training.
He never looked back.
The patio doors slide open, and Brax’s expression eases just from looking at his son. Roman walks in wearing his baseball pajamas, rubbing one eye with his hand and clutching a pillow with the other.
“Hey, buddy,” Brax calls out. “You okay?”
“The weirdest things make girls happy,” Roman mumbles. “Camping is not for me, so I’m sleeping in your bed. My back needs comfort.”
Brax chuckles and looks over at me. “I believe that’s your cue.”
Quietly, I step outside, sugary smoke lingering. As I crouch and unzip the tent. The nylon rustles, cool air brushing my face.
Erin’s curled into her sleeping bag, her cheeks blotchy and lashes still damp. Fragility blankets her, making it even more obvious how breakable she is.
Her breathing is shallow. I settle next to her and gently brush my knuckles over her cheek. Her eyes flutter open after a few seconds.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“You’re here,” she whispers.
“I’m here.”
She whips the sleeping bag off and climbs onto my lap, wrapping her small arms around me as though she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
She never has to worry.
“I would have been okay to wait for you,” she says, clutching my shirt. “You didn’t have to fly home early and miss tomorrow’s game.”
“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” I murmur, kissing her head.
“I’m so stupid for not putting it together,” she mutters.
“Brax said it’s trauma related, but I still think I should have known.
I thought I was done letting her surprise and shock me, but this…
” She lets loose a shaky breath. “I’m trying really hard not to let it bother me.
I don’t want her being here or the truth to rattle me and undo everything I’ve worked hard to rebuild.
I don’t want to take three steps back with you, Chase. ”
“I know, baby.” I pull back from her enough to see her face. “You got triggered. That’s not the same thing as going back to the past. You were blindsided by a locked memory you didn’t know existed. You couldn’t have prepared for this.”
Her eyes shimmer with exhaustion.
“She’s everywhere,” she whispers, voice cracking. “I keep hearing her. Her footsteps walking away from the scene. And her laugh…” She shudders, breaths quick and uneven. “I never heard her do that before. Now I can’t block it out. It’s like she’s mocking me for not knowing.”
Her breaths waver with every word.
“Putting it together in the café… Suddenly, I was eight-years-old again and hiding, trying to not make a sound. To not be seen. And now I’m wondering if I could have stopped her if I recognized it was her. She wouldn’t have shot a kid.”
I cup her face, and her frantic eyes connect with mine. “Don’t do that. Don’t play the what-if game. You were a kid, sweetheart. You did what you had to do to survive that awful day. That’s not a weakness. That’s strength.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Every time I build myself up to get out of her shadow, I end up falling apart.”
“Then fall apart,” I whisper. “Let it all out. You don’t have to keep it together for me. I can hold the weight, baby.”
She sighs, shaking her head. “I had so many theories, but I never thought it was her. I don’t know how to move forward now that I know it was.”
A silent tear rolls down her cheek.
“You take it one day at a time. You keep talking to me, keep letting me in. And let me be here for you.”
Her voice quiets. “The nightmares felt like a sign to stay quiet. So many years passed by that I just didn’t see the point of coming forward. There’s no statute of limitations for murder. What if she’s here because she thinks I’m gonna talk?”
“It’s been thirteen years, Erin. She left when you were eight. How would she know where to find you, especially if you changed your name?” I ask her.
“What if she’s always known where I was?” I ask. “I told you I thought what happened to my dad was planned. What if she arranged everything—the cover up, what lies to tell, what foster home I went to?”
“It’s possible,” I say, “but if that were true, why now?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“Do you know how I feel about you?” I ask her.
Some of the worry lining her eyes fades. “I do,” she says, her lips lifting a fraction.
“Then that’s not nothing.” I kiss the tip of her nose.
“How did I find you?”
“You walked into me at a bar.”
She snickers. “I thought you said it was your fault.”
“Best fault ever.” I wink. “Do you want to stay here tonight? Or we can go home.”
“Can we stay for a little while? It’s nice here.”
I lie back, gently tugging her down with me. “We can stay here as long as you like.”
“There’s a lot more that we should talk about,” she says in a quiet voice.
“Not tonight, sweetheart. You need to sleep.”
After a moment or two, another tear rolls down her cheek. Her eyes pinch together, and I know she’s finally going through the motions of the day as her body trembles in my arms.
“You’re okay, Bookworm. I’m right here.”
She shuffles closer.
I wrap my arm around her waist and hold her through every sob until her breathing slows and sleep finally consumes her.
I lie there, her hand clutched in mine, fueled with a need to protect her from her past.
Her heartbeat pounds against my side. Every thump reminds me that she’s still here, fighting despite every awful thing the universe has thrown at her.
Her words echo through me.
I don’t want to take three steps back with you, Chase.
I realize just how many times she’s had to rebuild what’s been stolen from her, what her mother broke.
Emotion floods me as I think how hard it must have been for her to let me in.
“I promise, Erin.” My voice comes out rough.
“I won’t let the shadows of your past consume you.
I’ll love you loud and fierce, even when you think you’re too broken.
I’ll show up and be here for you when you can’t show up for yourself.
You’ll never have to go through anything alone ever again. Not while I’m breathing.”