Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
CHASE
DYLAN: All in favor of a rescue, Chase, but am I getting my truck back today?
JAKE: Dare I ask?
DYLAN: Chase went to rescue Serena last night. Since my truck is still missing, I’m guessing it was successful!
JAKE: Harper is shouting at me to get more details.
DYLAN: I’m not the brother who likes to use eggplant emojis but…
JAKE: LOL. Gotcha. Saw that coming!
I wake to soft dawn light and Serena asleep beside me.
She has one arm curled under her cheek, lips parted slightly, her blonde hair a halo on my pillow.
She looks like she belongs. Right here. Like this bed, this room, this morning was all made for her.
My chest aches with something I can’t name.
I want to reach for her. Kiss her. Pull her closer to me.
Hear her soft moans. But we only fell into an exhausted, satisfied sleep a few hours ago.
So instead, I slip quietly out of bed and head for the bathroom.
It’s brighter in here, the sun’s rays hitting the gleam of white tiles.
I splash water on my face, then lean over the sink, gripping the edge of the counter as I meet my reflection.
My jaw is rough with stubble, my head too.
I need a shave. But it’s the smile tugging at my lips I focus on.
Last night didn’t feel like crossing a line.
It felt like coming home. Like this was always waiting beneath the surface of our friendship, buried under years of “just friends” and telling myself I wasn’t the one who could give her happy-ever-after.
Except, in the morning light, that concern is still there.
Still a weight I carry. I can’t ignore the fact that I know, deep down, that Serena dreams of a white picket fence and the chaos of toys in the yard.
Love. Commitment. A forever. I want to be that man for her.
I want it deep in my soul. And it isn’t that I’m not ready.
It’s that I’m terrified I never will be.
The sports psychologist was right—my early childhood, the abandonment, the chaos—it’s left wounds.
My mom walked out on me before I was old enough to form memories of her.
My dad didn’t even stick around for the birth.
How can I trust that I won’t do the same?
Whatever was in my biological parents—whatever made them walk away or fuck up so hard—is now buried in me, too.
That is the weight I carry. The one I try to ignore every day.
But maybe it’s time to stop pretending I don’t feel that crack running through me.
Maybe it’s time to try to heal. For Serena, and for what this could be between us if I can get out of my own way.
Because one thing I know for sure—I will not be the man who keeps her from what she deserves.
Which means either I find a way to be that man or I walk away. Neither seems possible right now.
I shove the thought aside and head downstairs.
The kitchen is quiet. I move through it on autopilot—grabbing the coffee, filling the machine, waiting for the hiss and drip of caffeine.
When it’s ready, I carry my mug to the back doors and slide them open, stepping barefoot onto the porch that overlooks the lake.
Mist hovers over the water and there’s a wintry bite to the air.
Birds call out from the trees, and in the distance, I hear a horse whicker.
Dylan and Izzy will already be halfway through the morning feed by now.
But on my porch, there is only stillness.
I breathe in fresh air that smells of water and pine needles until movement in the doorway makes me turn.
The sight of Serena hits me like a punch to the chest. I’m dragged back to our first fake date when I’d stood in this spot and Serena in hers, me in a tux, her in a gold dress.
She took my breath away that night, but she’s something else now with her bare feet and her hair damp from the shower, with one of my old tees slipping off her shoulder and skimming the tops of those long legs.
My mouth goes dry. My dick stirs. All the doubts—the fears—they vanish in an instant, swept away by the pulse of want that slams through me.
I’ve never wanted to fuck someone as much as I want to fuck Serena.
And having her last night has only made that pull stronger.
Serena smiles, but there’s uncertainty in those sky-blue eyes.
She’s waiting to see what I say and do. Waiting to see if I regret last night.
I cross the space between us in two strides, slide one hand around her waist, and pull her into my chest. Her hands come up to my shoulders, tentative at first, then sure.
She tilts her head as I dip down to kiss her.
It’s soft and lingering, the taste of mint on her tongue.
She melts into me, and just like that, everything else fades away.
When we pull apart, I make her a coffee, adding the caramel syrup I keep in my kitchen just for her, and we stand on the porch, her nestled against my chest, my arms wrapped around her from behind.
The mist is disappearing, leaving water so still it looks like a mirror reflecting the sky.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmur, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
“Sure.”
“Will you help me find my mom?” I ask.
Her blue eyes search mine. “Of course. You’re sure you want to?”
“I think it’s less about want and more about need,” I admit, the words rough in my throat.
“I can’t keep living like a piece of me is missing.
I’ve been putting it off because I think a big part of me is scared I won’t get the right answers to why she did what she did, but I’m starting to think any answer is better than no answer.
I need to know what she did isn’t innate. Isn’t something she’s passed on to me.”
“We can find a private investigator today,” she says without hesitation.
I tighten my hold on her, forcing out a low “Thanks.”
Her hand slides over my chest, warm and steady.
“For what it’s worth, you’re nothing like your parents, Chase.
You’ve always been there for me. Without hesitation.
You even climb up fire escapes. Those aren’t the actions of a man who could ever do what your parents did to you.
But whatever you find, I’m here. Always. ”
I don’t know if she’s right about who I am and what I’m capable of or not, but I’m glad I told her. Glad she’s here. We fall silent, and I’m grateful Serena doesn’t push for reasons or timelines. She just lets me be. Like she always has. She understands me completely.
Serena rests her head against my chest again. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“Not as beautiful as you,” I murmur into her hair.
She laughs, that breathy sound that always hits me square in the chest.
“There’s the cheesy Chase I know.”
I chuckle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She twists in my arms so she’s looking at me, smile teasing. “It means, are we going to talk about what happened last night?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” I smile wickedly, letting the words linger, enjoying the flush that spreads over her cheeks, reminding us both of the same request I made last night and what it led to.
“Chase, that’s exactly what I mean. You’re like this golden retriever man.
Always happy, easy-going. The first one to make a joke.
You’re incredibly sweet. You remember things most people forget.
But”—her smile widens—“there was nothing golden retriever about what we did last night. You were… I mean—” Her cheeks flush deeper. “You were pretty commanding.”
I raise my brows. “I don’t know whether to take it as a compliment or focus on the fact that you just likened me to Buck.”
She laughs again. “Don’t get me wrong, it was very hot. It just wasn’t what I imagined you’d be like.”
I pull her closer, my lips brushing her neck, loving the way she shivers against me. “And just how long have you been imagining what I’d be like to fuck?”
“Too long,” she whispers, pressing her lips to mine.
Suddenly, I’m the one who feels ruined. I don’t know what will happen next. For too long, I let the shadow of my past tell me I couldn’t be enough for someone. I don’t know if I can ever be the man Serena deserves. But as she presses her body to mine, I know that I want to try.
The light rap of knuckles on my front door pulls us apart.
Cold rushes in where there was warmth as Serena and I both draw back.
The hesitance is back in her eyes. If she thinks for a single second I give a damn who knows about us, she’s wrong.
I slide my fingers through hers and we walk to the door together.
“What if it’s Ryan?” she asks quietly.
I shake my head. “He’ll be sleeping off the whiskey and regret from last night.
” Still, I move a fraction so my body is blocking Serena as I open the door, my face breaking into a smile at the sight of Mama on my doorstep, hair pinned back, her overalls dusted with flour, making me think she’s come to invite me for breakfast.
But one look at Mama’s face and my stomach drops. Instantly my pulse kicks hard and fast. Something’s wrong. “Is it Dylan? Izzy? The baby?” I ask, thoughts racing straight to the ranch and the horse accident that killed Dad, and I swear my heart stops beating in the second it takes Mama to reply.
“They’re fine. We’re all fine. It’s not that.”