Chapter Twenty-Four
IAN
LEGACY HOCKEY STAR brADLEY CHASE’S SECRET LOVE CHILD
THE CHASE DYNASTY CRUMBLES: DRUIDS OWNER TELL-ALL
IAN CHASE HELPED KEEP HIS FATHER’S DIRTY SECRETS FOR YEARS
WHO IS ABIGAIL THOMPSON?
MEI, ABIGAIL, AND DELILAH—THE TANGLED WEB OF WOMEN IN IAN CHASE’S LIFE
It’s the last one that puts me the most on edge, strangely. The other explosion of headlines I had the misfortune of stumbling across while thumbing through the photos of Lila and me kissing for the dozenth time are upsetting, sure, but it’s the one that throws Lila into the mix that truly has my stomach twisting.
There are texts from her on my phone, her and Jack, so I know she’s on her way here, but I have no idea what I’m going to say to her. What I’m going to see on her face when she gets here. Will there be disappointment? Exhaustion? Will I see that it’s too much for her? Everything that’s happening feels so reminiscent of years ago, and given that the last time my personal life was aired for the world to see led to me leaving the fucking country, I can’t help but feel terrified at what this will mean for me. More important, what it will mean for me and Lila.
And could I even blame her if she wanted to put the brakes on things? She didn’t sign up for this. She didn’t ask for all the baggage that comes with being close to me. Already the media is speculating, tearing into her for just the crime of maybe being in a relationship with me, and it makes me sick, reading the things people are saying about her. Knowing it’s my fault that they’re saying them at all. They call her naive, they pity her for having to deal with my “lies”—hell, some have even speculated that she knew all along, and that somehow makes her just as tangled in the web of my father’s twisted legacy as I am.
I fucking hate it.
I’ve been sitting here trying to formulate some sort of plan, even trying to discern how in the hell the media might have gotten wind of this after so long—coming up with nothing on both fronts. The only people I’ve told the intimate details of the entire truth to are Mei, Jack, and now Lila, and I trust each of them implicitly. I can only assume that somewhere, somehow, my father finally fucked up. That’s the most satisfying option, anyway.
Speaking of the dick in question, there are several texts waiting for me from him as well. I’ve yet to answer any of them, mainly because I don’t yet know what I want to say.
DAD: If you had something to do with this there will be consequences.
DAD: Who have you told?
DAD: If reporters come calling, say nothing.
DAD: I highly suggest you call me as soon as possible.
I drop my phone onto the couch, scrubbing a hand down my face. I feel the weight of his anger even from this far away. I don’t know what it is about the man that reduces me to a child again, begging for his approval, but it’s enough to have my stomach twisting into knots. Like suddenly I’m ten again and he’s berating my form, telling me all the ways I could do better, be better—not that anything has really changed there.
And my mom. What the fuck am I going to say to my mother? I called her immediately after I saw the first article, and I’ve tried twice more since—but she isn’t answering. Which only makes me feel worse. Is she disappointed in me? Does she hate me now? Do I deserve it?
I’ve spent so many years living my life trying to avoid this very thing to protect the people around me, and now it’s out there, and it feels like every decision I’ve made in the wake of my nearly ruined reputation has all been for naught. What was the point of losing six years away from my best friend, my team, only to have it all come out, anyway? Now I’m here, at the end of my career, and everything feels as if it’s all been for nothing.
Well, not everything.
The thought of Lila is my one bright spot in the dreariness of my own head, marred only by the niggling worry that this will somehow be a wake-up call for her. That she will see the shit show that is my life and decide it’s not worth it, that I’m not worth it. Knowing the depths of my feelings for her, the thought is a terrifying one. It would have always hurt to lose Lila entirely, even in the years we grew apart, but now…Now it would be devastating.
I feel my heart pound in my chest—faster and faster until its racing rattles the cage of my ribs and thrums in my throat and my ears as panic starts to grip me, because what if she does leave? What will I do now that I know what it is to touch her, to hold her against me, to know her in ways that only come from love, just to lose her? I press my hand to my heart as if this will somehow soothe the thudding, my breaths coming out shorter and shorter as everything comes crashing down on me all at once as echoes of my father’s words over the years ring in my ears.
Straighten up, Ian.
Honestly, you can do better than that.
Don’t embarrass me, Ian.
Clearly, I was wrong to expect more from you.
You just love disappointing me, don’t you?
It would be better for everyone if you just left.
I double over, letting my head drop between my knees as I try to suck in lungfuls of air that feel like they won’t come, my vision blurring as an iron vise squeezes my chest until there’s no room left, until the bones feel like they’re breaking. There’s a roaring in my ears, and beyond that there are other sounds I can’t make out, a pounding that I can’t discern whether it comes from the room or my own head—but then there is the distinct jingle of keys in the door, and quick steps across the carpet, and then hands on my shoulders, my chest, soothing me, pulling me in close as a soft, warm voice surrounds me.
“Hey,” Lila says—because it’s her, she’s here. “I’ve got you. Shh. It’s okay.”
I throw my arms out and wrap her up in them, fisting her shirt to prove to myself that she’s really here. It still feels a little like I can’t breathe, but her distinct sweet scent and her soft embrace make the world feel a bit steadier, make me feel steadier.
“You’re having a panic attack,” she coos gently. “Just breathe, Ian. Breathe with me.”
I close my eyes and bury my face against her throat, matching the rhythm of my breaths with hers and trying to focus on the steady in and out of air filling her lungs and mine. I don’t know how long she holds me like that, or what all it is that she murmurs directly into my ear as she strokes my back, but at some point, sounds bleed back in, and things feel less like they’re crashing down on me, and suddenly I can breathe again, can see again—and all I see is her.
“Lila?”
She cups my face in her hands, worry etched in her features. “I’m here. Are you okay?”
“I—” I swallow, my tongue feeling like sandpaper. “I think so.”
“Oh, baby,” she says in a broken voice, like she’s on the verge of tears. For me. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. Do you know how this happened?”
“No, Lila,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” Her brow furrows. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Have you seen what they’re saying?”
“I’ve seen enough,” she says with disdain.
“Then you know what they’re saying about you. I didn’t mean to drag you into this. I would have never—”
“Ian.”
“I understand if you need a break from this, from us, but—”
“Ian.”
“I’ll tell them the truth. I’ll make sure they know this is all on me. I’ll—”
“Ian.”
As her palm cradles my chin she actually pinches my cheeks, holding them between her fingers until my mouth puckers so that I physically can’t say anything else. She looks irritated, which only makes me more anxious. Her hand relaxes against my jaw, her eyes contemplative.
“Do you know the moment I realized you had ruined all other boys for me?”
“I…What?”
“It was a random Wednesday. I was fourteen, and you and Jack were throwing that huge graduation party while Aunt Bea was visiting her mother.”
“I remember,” I say curiously.
“I was supposed to be in bed, but there was too much going on. The music and the lights and the laughter…I hung out in the hall outside my room just listening to it all for hours.”
My mouth opens only to close, that night coming back to me hazily. “You said you had just woken up.”
“Yeah, well, I lied,” she laughs. “You had just come stomping down the hall all arms and legs, looking for the bathroom and almost tripped over me. What else was I supposed to say?” She smiles; it’s slow, and sweet, just like her, and the knot of anxiety in my chest loosens a bit. “Do you remember what you did?”
“I made your ass go to bed,” I scoff.
Her lips tilt up higher as she beams back at me. “That was after. You don’t remember what happened before that?”
I frown, trying to recall, but in all honesty, there was a lot of beer our friend Paul had stolen from his dad’s fridge involved that night.
“I told you I wanted to come to the party,” she says, helping me out. “And you told me that was absolutely not happening, that I was too young.”
“Okay?”
“So I did what I always do, I pouted, telling you I wanted to dance with everyone else, and that I wasn’t going to bed until I got to dance to one song.”
Sparks of memory tickle at the back of my brain, my mouth parting. “I danced with you.”
“Right on top of your feet,” she laughs. “It was awkward, and I have no idea how you even stood up for it since I’m pretty sure looking back you were hammered, but…God, Ian. I went to bed that night wishing I was just a little older, that there weren’t so many years between us, because I was afraid I would never feel the way I did standing on top of your big-ass feet dancing to a bad pop song.”
“Lila…”
Her thumb brushes across my cheek, and she leans in close, feathering her lips against mine. “And I haven’t. Not once. I’ve never felt that way since. Not until you. Not until you saw me.”
“Fuck, Lila.” My voice cracks, emotion choking me. “What if I ruin everything for you?”
“Not going to happen,” she asserts.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m not,” she says easily. “I told you before that I know now that I can’t be sure of anything, remember? But I know what’s worth holding on to. You are. Nothing is going to change that for me. Do you know why?”
I shake my head, my heart thudding wildly in my chest again but for an entirely different reason. “Why?”
“Because I love you,” she says softly, the words quiet and yet the feeling they invoke so loud that it has my ears ringing.
“You do?”
She looks so sure, so utterly at peace with this revelation that the stunned way it leaves me feels almost ridiculous. She nods, pressing another gentle kiss on my mouth as she breathes against my lips, “Completely sure.”
“I—me too. I mean, I love you too. Fuck, Lila.” I cradle her face, pulling her in to cover her mouth with mine, murmuring between frantic kisses as relief bubbles up inside and spills over. “The way you make me feel…” I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “It’s like I spent my entire life blind until you walked back into it, and I finally saw you.”
Her arms are around my neck, and her smile matches mine, and her kisses are seeking, joyous—they’re a confirmation that everything that comes after this is just details, because this, this thing between us, that’s what really matters. I pull her closer, so close that she’s practically molded to my chest. I palm her head so that I can deepen the kiss, sweeping my tongue through her mouth as a happy sigh escapes her throat. I could do this for hours. I want to do this for hours. I pull her tighter, I kiss her harder, I—
“If I knew I was going to be accosted in my own home,” Jack grumbles, “I would not have given you the spare key to run off and fornicate on my couch.”
Lila grins, pulling away from me, but just barely. “Do you hear something?”
“Hm. I don’t think so.”
“Oh, fuck you both very much,” he huffs. I can hear him muttering as he toes off his shoes. “Fucking weird is what it is.”
“Hi, honey,” I call, finally untangling myself from his sister. I mean, it’s probably the right thing to do. He hasn’t tried to kick my ass yet, after all. “How was your day?”
“Don’t you start with me, jackass,” he scoffs. “The only reason I’m not crushing your thick-ass skull with my cast is because you have bigger problems at the moment.”
“Not because you love me?”
“That’s debatable right now.” Jack points at Lila. “And you! We agreed one month before I was subjected to kissing.”
“It isn’t my fault you walked in on us,” she laughs.
“Right,” he snorts. “Heaven forbid I walk into my own apartment and not expect to see my brother tonguing my sister.”
I make a face. “Please don’t say it like that ever again.”
“Oh?” Jack looks vindicated. “And why should you be comfortable?”
“We could go to your room,” Lila whispers.
“I heard that!” Jack stomps over to the chair across from the couch, plopping down into it. “No one is sneaking off to do things I want to know nothing of until we talk about this. There are fucking reporters outside the building, did you know?”
“I saw them on the way in,” Lila says with a wince.
“Fuck,” I sigh. “What a shit show.”
“Do we have any idea who leaked this?” Jack asks.
I shake my head. “No clue.”
“Are we sure it wasn’t your dad? Maybe he’s hungry for some attention.”
“Considering he’s been sending me threatening text messages about keeping my mouth shut,” I say, “I don’t think it’s him.”
Lila bristles. “He has?”
“I didn’t answer,” I tell her.
She seethes, anyway. “That motherfucker. I should drive down there and kick his ass.”
“Down, girl,” I laugh, kissing her temple. “Let’s not give the press any more fodder.”
“But I mean,” Jack goes on, in full detective mode as he taps his chin thoughtfully. “Who else even knows? Did you guys have a maid I don’t know about?”
“No, we didn’t—”
“Oh!” Jack barrels on. “Could it have been another jilted lover of your dad’s maybe? Maybe she got jealous. Or maybe he’s been paying her off, and he threatened to stop.” Jack gasps, snapping his fingers. “Maybe there’s another love child!”
“I don’t think there are any more,” I say, hoping I’m right.
“I don’t know,” Jack continues, still thinking. “My money is still on your dad. He’s just the type to pull this shady shit. Maybe he made a deal with someone in the press for the story. Or maybe—”
“It wasn’t him.”
We all turn toward the quiet voice in the doorway, Jack frowning at the woman standing there, her gray eyes locked on mine and shining with guilt as she takes off her large sunglasses and pulls back the deep hood of her jacket—no doubt the reasons that helped her sneak by the horde of reporters outside.
I sit up straighter. “Abby?”
“How did you get in here?” Jack says.
She points back at the door. “This was open.”
“That tracks,” Lila mutters.
I’m standing now, taking a step closer to my sister, who is still looking at me warily. “What do you mean it wasn’t him?”
“Because…” She bites her bottom lip, her eyes wide and searching and making her look so much younger than she actually is. “Because it was me,” she says finally.
Everything is silent for a handful of seconds, and then:
“Oh shit,” Jack whispers. “Plot twist.”