Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Chance
Holly's righteous fury radiates off her in waves, and fuck if it isn't the hottest thing I've ever seen.
And most heartbreaking. Because I delivered the kill shot.
My cock strains against my zipper, proving once again that my body has zero respect for appropriate timing or brotherly loyalty.
I went too fucking far. I knew it from the minute “sugar lips” came out of me.
She saunters out, hips swaying head held high, taking the stunned silence with her.
Everyone begins talking at once, between our moms, Charlie, and Eve it’s a storm of commentary…
You should check on her.
No, you should go check on her.
Mom, she’s fine.
That’s the most fine I’ve ever seen her actually.
It’s Chance you should worry about, he’s going to need a bodyguard .
Eve whips around in her chair then, the look on her face dialed to l ook at this fucking idiot , “I’m sure you haven’t planned for this, but on account of you being a moron… what’s your preference cremation or burial?”
My father tries and fails to hide a grin behind his coffee cup.
Wait, grinning?
Okay, stick a pin in that for later because on my other side Nick hasn’t said a single word, and instead pierces with a dangerous intensity, anger rolling off him.
And me?
I'm drowning in guilt for playing into the exact thing she's fighting against, even if it was meant to keep our cover.
I panicked. Seasoned soldier, known for his level head, and I choked under pressure.
Risking a glance, I see an expression I never expected from my best friend. Nick looking at me like I just crossed a line I’ll never be able to walk back.
“I need air.” I shove back from the table, the chair scraping against hardwood like a scream.
“Yeah, you do.” Nick’s voice is low but firm, his chair creaking as he stands. My gut clenches as I hear his footsteps close behind mine.
“Nick—”
“Keep walking,” he snaps, his voice tight and brimming with fury. When we round a corner, he jabs a finger toward a side door along the hall leading to the locker rooms. “In there. Now.”
The minute the door snaps shut behind us, he rounds on me. “What the fuck was that?” he demands, his voice low but sharp enough to cut.
Dragging a hand down my face, I look away. Lies are easier when you don’t have to meet someone’s eyes. “It’s not what you think.”
Except it is.
I made her a promise, and walking this tightrope—constantly worrying they’ll see right through me—is exhausting.
The Army trained me for a lot of things: strategy, survival, maneuvers.
But they never trained me for this.
And they give us armor.
There’s no armor for loving her.
It’s fucking big, and I carry it on the outside. Exposed for anyone to see.
All it would take is one slip, one glimpse from the right angle, one second where I’m not guarded, and they’d know.
They’d all know.
I pushed too far. Gave too much away.
After finally tasting her for real, none of the mistletoe shit—it’s like I’m walking around with a self inflicted brand: her.
“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” he snaps, crossing his arms. His glare is unrelenting. “This is about Everett, isn’t it?”
The accusation knocks me off balance. I whip my head around to face him. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he says, his tone edging toward dangerous. “You’ve been on edge since last night. Since she was cozying up to him on the sleigh. And now this?” He gestures back toward the dining room, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “Jesus, Chance. Man on the ground or not this is extreme.”
I let out a harsh laugh, sharp and humorless. “It’s not that and you’re blowing it out of proportion.”
“Am I?” he snaps, stepping closer. “Because it sure as hell looks like you’re trying to warn him off, but humiliating her to do it? It doesn’t get lower than that, Chance.”
The knot in my stomach twists even tighter. I should correct him.
Tell him he’s wrong. You’d never intentionally humiliate her. You’re not that guy. You’ve never been that guy. If you just tell him how you feel…
But if her father finally chooses her, she wants—no needs —for him to choose her on her own merit.
She’s stepping into her own… a version of herself who doesn’t measure her worth by anyone else’s yardstick. After a lifetime of being smacked down, she needs to prove to herself she has the control to determine her course.
She probably doesn’t even see it, but she’s infusing her own confidence, making up for where her parents failed her.
She’s doing something I wasn’t able to do.
I’m not jealous… I’m in complete awe of her recognizing the need to do it and despite any fears she has, any threat of rejection, she’s doing it anyway.
The badass in that room who turned on Blake is exactly who she’s supposed to be—transforming, becoming the strong, capable person she was always meant to be.
Because I want to see her fully realized too.
Nick stares at me, his frustration giving way to something colder. “You think I didn’t notice the way you were glaring at him last night? Or how you’ve been watching her like a hawk ever since?”
I shake my head, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Nick, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then make me understand,” he fires back, his voice rising. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you can’t handle the idea of her being interested in him. Question is… why? And instead of dealing with it, you’re taking it out on her.”
Part truth. I can’t handle her being interested in him, but we are so far past that.
My fists clench at my sides, and my pulse pounds through my skull with the effort to keep the truth buried.
I want to tell him—need to tell him. If it were anyone but her…
I love her.
I love her so fucking much, I don't know what to do with it all.
She's all frenetic energy, eclectic in everything she does, and fucking amazing.
How the fuck does she not burst into a million pieces?
Because the ache in my bones, a pulsating rhythm that matches the chaos, is relentless and tearing through me every minute.
If Nick experienced even a fraction of this falling for Charlie… I owe him a huge apology for anything I said that made it harder.
“You promised me you’d look out for her,” Nick says, his voice quieter now but no less sharp. “But if this is what that looks like? I don’t know if I can trust you.”
His disappointment is suffocating, heavier than anything he’s ever thrown at me.
He shakes his head, stepping back. “Figure your shit out, Chance. And fast. Because some things..." he pauses, shakes his head, "some things break in ways that change everything.”
He heads for the door, then stops. "And Chance?"
"Yeah?"
"If you have any hope of fixing this, the apology better be fucking spectacular.”