Chapter 50 Chase
I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since the girl of my dreams told me she’s in love with me. She trusted me with pieces of herself no one else has ever had. The importance of that isn’t lost on me. Now that I’ve had her, I can’t get enough.
Things are perfect—almost.
There’s still no lead on who killed Clarissa Rose. Erin is convinced it was The Octopus, based on her dream, but Brax doesn’t have any evidence to prove her theory right or wrong.
Bella and Brodie wanted to come back to Huxley Bay when they heard what happened to Erin’s mom, but Erin told them not to, claiming they have lives and she’s fine.
It’s why Erin hasn’t told Bella about The Octopus. She knows Bella will drop everything and come home. Erin doesn’t want her career to be impacted by a man who seems impossible to track down.
Erin, Brax, and I agreed to keep conversations about The Octopus from them until the club is done and they’re back in Huxley Bay full-time again.
I know it’s not an easy decision for Erin to have made, given the fact she promised Bella she wouldn’t keep anything from her, but I understand it.
My thoughts burst when the doorbell rings repeatedly. I roll my eyes. Oliver should not be allowed to press buttons. I head for the front door and Oliver, Hayes, Austin, Brax, and Roman pile in, bringing the chilly air with them.
“Hey, Uncle Chasey,” Roman beams, hugging my legs. I ruffle his hair before he lets go. “Where’s Erin?” he asks as we filter into the living room.
“You know, I remember a time when you loved me the most,” I say, pretending to swipe a tear from under my eye.
He shrugs. “Fifth place isn’t terrible.”
A gasp rips through me. “Fifth?”
“Yeah. Dad’s first. Then Mom. Erin is next. Uncle Brodie comes after, and then you,” he says, counting everyone out on his fingers before he goes in search of my girlfriend.
Brax grins. “A couple weeks ago when I couldn’t help him defeat the fire-breathing gargoyle, and instead got him killed, he dropped me down to fourth.”
“My girlfriend is corrupting my godson. I used to be third,” I grumble.
Brax snorts as the front door opens behind us and my girl walks in. I spot her tote bag that says don’t call me pretty and buy me flowers, buy me books. It’s the one she always takes to book club.
She slips her shoes off and slams the door. It has me walking over to her immediately. My girl isn’t usually aggressive. When I get to her, she’s grumbling unintelligible words under her breath.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She whirls on me, and I take in her adorable frown.
“Won-der-ful,” she replies with sarcasm, dropping off every syllable.
“Erinnnn!” Roman yells and flies at her. She drops to his level and hugs him. When she stands and looks over at me, her face hardens.
“Damn,” Brax whistles, following his son into the foyer as Erin heads for the kitchen. He’s not the only one who notices Erin’s icy expression and how it was directed at me. Roman does, too. He stomps over to us and a sour cherry hits me in the eye before landing on the floor by my feet.
“Hey!” I call out as I squint, rubbing residual sugar from my eyebrow.
“Dad says we shouldn’t use violence to solve our problems. So, you get a cherry to the face instead.”
Brax folds his lips into his mouth.
“Does Erin have a sad heart?” Roman asks, planting his hands on his hips before I can say anything in response to hitting me in the face with candy.
“A sad heart?” I ask.
“Yeah. Mom gets one when Dex forgets to tell her something important or hasn’t told her the whole story. And Dad says sad hearts happen when someone is confused or worried. Right, Dad?”
“Yeah, buddy, that’s right,” he answers.
I crouch down to his level. “Why do you think Erin feels like that?” I ask him.
Roman shrugs. “She didn’t give you her secret smile. She always does. That means something’s wrong. Did you break it?”
I take in the worry on my godson’s face and give him a gentle smile. “I hope not. Any idea what I can do to find out?”
“Be honest. Dad says we always gots choices. The truth hurts sometimes, but we need all the information so we can choose how to feel. I want Erin to have a happy heart. She’s my third favorite person so you need to fix it.”
Without another word, he takes off, and I head into the kitchen to figure out why my girl is wearing a scowl.
I catch her before she can reach for the Jelly Tots. Her hand is halfway in the cupboard when I wrap mine around her wrist and gently tug her toward the laundry closet.
I pull us inside of it.
“Uh, no. Let me out. I don’t want people thinking we snuck away in the middle of dinner to—”
“To, what?” I flick on the light and pull the door closed behind as I back her against the wall.
She finishes her sentence. “To have funny business.”
I huff a laugh. “Sweetheart, there’s nothing funny about you screaming my name while I’m deep inside of you.”
She looks away, that shyness taking over.
Damn adorable.
But she’s still irritated. Still tense.
Roman was right—something’s wrong, and I’m done guessing.
I dip my head close to hers. “Tell me why you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not mad,” she mutters.
“Roman says you are.”
“What?” she asks, her eyes widening.
“He said that you have a sad heart and that I should fix it because you’re his third favorite person.”
A tiny curve pulls at her mouth, but then she frowns as if she remembers she’s mad at me again.
“And he asked me if I broke your secret smile.”
She laughs, but it’s empty, her face staying neutral, showing nothing but quiet frustration.
I brush her hair away from her face. “What’s bothering you, Erin?”
She hesitates before saying, “I used your laptop.”
Okay… not where I thought this was going to go.
“I was checking my email, and… I saw a website.”
“A website?”
“One that rhymes with corn,” she whispers, her discomfort dripping from her features. “I thought maybe you were watching it because that’s what you wanted. And I don’t look like them—”
“Erin.” The thought of her comparing herself to anything on a screen makes my stomach drop out from inside of me. I never want her feeling like she’s not enough.
She barrels on, voice shrinking.
“I tried to tell myself I was overthinking. Bella wasn’t here, and I was already feeling… insecure. And then Griff…” She groans and rolls her eyes. “He decided to be a menace.”
My brows lift. “What do you mean?”
“He turned into an annoying big brother,” she huffs. “He could tell I was bothered and kept poking until I told him. And then he offered advice I didn’t ask for.”
“This should be interesting. What did he say?”
She sighs dramatically. “That you didn’t want or need me to try and twist myself into a pretzel to impress you because you’re already ‘wussy-whipped.’ His words, not mine.
But if I really wanted to do something for you, I should use feather dusters and handcuffs and—” She glares at the wall, cheeks flaming.
“That I should call you a good, pretty boy. Because tickling makes you, uh, finish… harder.”
I barely suppress a laugh, and she looks up, her nose scrunching as her mortification practically radiates off her.
So. Fucking. Adorable.
It turns into a soft chuckle as I try to rein it in.
“One—never talk to your brother again about what he thinks I might like because he’ll say shit like that. Deal?”
“Yeah, I got that,” she mutters.
“Two—you drive me crazy. Your body, your lips, your touch. The way you want me. The way you see me. The way your eyes shine with trust when you’re vulnerable or nervous. It turns me on, baby. All of you turns me on. I love that you trust me to make you feel special.”
I kiss her cheek.
“You.”
I kiss her other cheek.
“Drive.”
Another kiss to her lips.
“Me.”
A kiss to the back of her ear.
“Wild.”
“Stop,” she says breathlessly. I know she’s saying it to my words and not my kisses.
“I can’t get enough of you, okay?”
She nods, her eyes glazed over.
“Three—I wasn’t watching anything on any website. It was probably a pop-up.”
I lean forward and put my lips next to the shell of her ear. “Four—your pussy has me seeing stars. Every. Fucking. Time.”
Her breath hitches.
“Five—I love you,” I murmur. “And I’ll show you and tell you every damn day for as long as you’ll have me. I’m never going anywhere. I’ll never need anything more than just you. It’s you and me, baby. Always will be. Tell me you understand.”
“I do,” she says. Her shoulders slump, relaxing back against the wall, but there’s still a slight furrow that remains between her brows.
“That’s not the whole story. Tell me what else is swirling in that pretty head of yours.”
Her head drops and the rest of it comes spilling out.
“At book club, Nancy Killian said the cowboy in the book reminded her of the time she slept with a hockey player who liked control.” She winces hard. “And Elena told me afterward that she’s a puck bunny. And that the hockey player she was talking about was probably you.”
I drag a hand down my face. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Before Elena told me, it didn’t even click that Nancy was talking about you because you’re not like that with me,” she says. “You’re gentle. And after Elena told me, Nancy wouldn’t stop going on about it. I don’t know, Chase. I got jealous. And overwhelmed. I threw my book at her head.”
A laugh catches in my throat. “You assaulted Nancy Killian with a paperback?”
“It was a hardcover,” she mutters, embarrassed. “And now I’m banned for two months.”
I can’t help but grin. “My girlfriend is a delinquent. That’s kinda hot.”
She smacks my upper body lightly. “Shut up, Pretty Boy.”
I take her hand. “Come on, let’s get back before everyone wonders why we’ve disappeared. You’ve already caused enough chaos for one night.”
She groans but lets me lead her out. The aroma of roasted vegetables and garlic hits us as we step out into the kitchen. Roman is laughing as we approach the table. As we sit, smirks tug at the corners of everyone’s mouths, though no one says a word at first.