The Game Changer

Chapter Twenty-Five

DELILAH

Abby’s admission is surprising, and not only just to me, if the look on Ian’s face is any indication. His brows shoot up and his mouth parts, his eyes searching her face as Abby continues to stand there, seeming to almost wither under his scrutiny.

“You told them?”

Abby sighs as she turns and shuts the door, running her fingers through her long, strawberry blond hair as her eyes stay glued on her worn Converses. “I know I should have talked to you first.”

“You’re damned right you should have,” Ian bites out. Ian is so rarely angry—at least that I’ve seen—that this new side of him throws me a little. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The problems this will cause for everyone? It’s not just you who will be affected here. You get that, right?”

Abby nods glumly, trudging across the room and sinking into one of the lounge chairs opposite Jack. She seems so small like this, even being several inches taller than me, her willowy frame hunched over and her hands wringing in her lap. My heart goes out to her, and a strong urge to give her a hug overtakes me, but I know it isn’t my place right now. That I have to let them figure this out on their own.

“I do,” she says quietly. “And I tried to talk to you about it. I called you not long ago, remember? I told you how I was feeling.”

Ian stomps across the room, dropping down beside me on the couch. His posture is tense, and I keep my hands tucked in my lap for the moment. “You never said you were thinking about going to the press.”

“I wanted to tell you,” Abby urges. “I was working up to it, but then you had to go, and you didn’t call me back, and I…” She bites her lip, peeking up at Ian with weary eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry can’t take things back,” Ian huffs. “Sorry won’t stop the shitstorm that this is going to make for me and my mother. I know you don’t know her, Abby, but you realize you just hurt her, too, don’t you?”

“I know,” she says. “I know that. But you don’t know what it’s like. You have no idea what it’s like to be everyone’s dirty secret. I have no one left, Ian. No one but you and Dad. You two are the only family I have, and the both of you have spent the entire time that I’ve known you wishing I didn’t exist.”

“That’s—” Ian’s mouth snaps shut, his eyes hard for a moment before softening slightly. I can see it, the minute that my Ian comes back to the moment—the kind protector I know him to be overriding his anger as his shoulders slump. “I didn’t want you to feel that way.”

“I know you didn’t,” Abby assures him. “You’ve done the best you can with me. I know you didn’t ask for any of this, but you’ve always done your best.”

“I just don’t understand why you felt like this was your only option,” Ian sighs.

Abby levels him with a hard stare, her gray eyes, which are so similar to Ian’s, holding his. “And if I had told you what I wanted to do, what would you have said? Honestly? Would you have supported me?”

“I…” Ian shakes his head, looking down at his hands clenching his knees. I can’t help but reach out, covering one with mine and squeezing it just to let him know I’m here in whatever way he needs me to be. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze back, expelling a breath. “I don’t know. I want to say that I would, but like I said, we’re not the only ones affected by this.”

“I know you wanted to protect your mom,” Abby tells him, “and I’m sorry that I’ve ruined that, but the truth is, if I hadn’t done this, I would have been a secret my entire life. I can’t do it anymore. Even if it makes you hate me. I—I love you, Ian. I know that’s probably weird for you, because you didn’t ask for a sister, and I never wanted to let you down, but I’ve just been drowning in this secret, and I—”

Ian is off the couch and crossing the room before any of us can blink, and Abby lets out a soft oomph as he tugs her up from the chair and wraps his arms around her. My chest squeezes at the sight. I hear a soft sniffle from the slight woman in his arms, and then her hands reach to tentatively clasp at his sides.

“I don’t hate you,” Ian says quietly. “I could never hate you, Abby. Regardless of how we came into each other’s lives, you’re my sister.” He pulls back, peering down at her. “And it wasn’t just my mother I wanted to protect—it was you too.”

Abby looks confused. “Me?”

“I know you still want things from our father that I’ve long since learned he can’t give,” Ian says gently. “I wanted to protect you from this image you had of him. I wanted to hope that he could be the person you wanted him to be. Eventually.”

Abby’s face crumples, her lip quivering as her eyes fill with tears. “But he won’t,” she whispers. “Will he? He doesn’t want me.”

“Sweetheart,” Ian chokes. He draws her in close, squeezing her tight. I can feel my own eyes prickling, the emotion between these two siblings, the weight of everything they’ve suffered banding them together like this making me eternally grateful for having Jack all these years. Even when he was a complete dumbass, he’s always been there for me. It’s so gratifying to see Ian finally have a chance to be that for Abby. “I wish he could be,” Ian says thickly. “I wish you could have that. I really do. You’ve suffered so much. You’re twenty-five years old, and you’ve lived more life than most of us. It’s not fair. It really isn’t. I should have been there for you more. I was so busy waiting for our father to step up that I never even tried to do it myself.”

“No,” Abby argues, shaking her head against his chest. “It’s not your—”

“But it is,” Ian shushes her. “It’s just as much my fault as it is his. I can sit here and blame you for what you did, but I’m just as complicit. I kept the secret right along with him. I did what he told me to do because I thought it was better for everyone, but lies never solve anything. Lying to save someone from pain only delays it. Eventually, that hurt always comes back around, and the longer you put it off, the more power it has.”

“I’m sorry,” Abby cries. “I’m so sorry, Ian.”

“Shh.” He strokes her back, and I can feel my own eyes watering as I watch them. “Stop. I may not understand the way you went about this, but I understand why you needed to do it. It’s something you never should have had to do in the first place.”

“He’s going to hate me now,” Abby whimpers.

Ian presses his cheek to her hair. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here. You have me. I won’t ever abandon you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she rasps, clutching him tight. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” Ian closes his eyes, blowing out a breath. “We both have things to be sorry for, but instead of dwelling on them, let’s just try to be better, yeah?”

“Don’t be sorry, be better?” Abby says with a watery laugh.

Ian smiles. “Put that on a T-shirt.”

“Fuck me,” Jack says finally, and honestly, I’m surprised he was able to keep quiet for so long. I love him, but subtle, he is not. “That was beautiful. Do we have tissues? I might need some therapy after watching that.”

Abby lifts her head to give Jack a puzzled look.

“Ignore him, Abby,” I tell her, shooting my brother a glare. “He can’t help himself.”

Jack pouts. “What did I do?”

“Sorry,” Abby says again, wiping her eyes as she looks around the room sheepishly. “None of you signed up for this shit today.”

“You’re fine,” Jack tells her, waving her off. “Our parents are totally dead. We get it.”

I throw a pillow at him. “Jack!”

“What?” He ducks out of the way, looking genuinely confused by my outburst, which, of course he does. “I was commiserating!”

Abby is still gawking at my brother like he’s from another planet, and honestly, I get it.

I’m just about to tell my brother off again when his pocket starts going crazy, and he lifts his hips to dig for his phone with his good hand, frowning at the screen. He winces, peeking over at Ian. “It’s Coach.”

“Fuck,” Ian huffs, untangling himself from his sister and running his hand through his hair. “He tried to call me earlier.”

“Going to have to face the music sometime,” Jack points out.

Ian nods. “I might as well get over there and explain.”

“I can come with you,” Jack says, shooting up from the couch. “I’m an excellent wingman.”

“This isn’t a wingman situation,” Ian says.

Jack scoffs. “Sure it isn’t, Goose.”

Ian rolls his eyes before giving his attention back to Abby. “I want you to stay here. Don’t leave the apartment until we get back. We’re going to figure this out together, okay?”

“Okay,” Abby says with a nod.

Ian turns toward me. “Can you…?”

“I’ll stay with her,” I say without letting him finish. “You don’t even have to ask.”

Ian’s smile is small but still enough to make my heart clench, and he crosses the space between us easily before leaning down to brush his lips against mine. “Thank you.”

“So much for a fucking month,” Jack mutters from a few feet away.

I ignore him, stepping closer and returning Ian’s soft kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he answers, his lips curling into a full-blown grin against my mouth.

I smack his ass, continuing to ignore Jack as he groans. “Go get ’em, Cupcake.”

Abby is staring at us when we break apart, her head cocked with curiosity but keeping quiet. Jack shakes his head, glancing at Abby. “Yeah,” Jack huffs. “It’s a whole gross thing.”

“Don’t be jealous, babe,” Ian calls, moving toward him. “I can give you kisses, too, if it helps.”

“Get the fuck out of my apartment before I bash your knees in,” Jack grumbles.

Ian chuckles, bending to fish his phone out of the couch cushions where it’s fallen. He looks between Abby and me once more after he gets his keys from the bowl on the thin table in the entryway, and Jack steps behind him as they head for the door.

“You two will be okay?”

I peek over at Abby, who watches me nervously. I nod for us both. “We’ll be fine. Go.”

He shoots me another smile before they both head out, leaving me alone with Ian’s little sister, who I haven’t met before, watching her having an emotional breakdown only moments earlier. I can totally get why she’s looking at me like she wants to bolt.

“Well,” I say, “do you want food or sleep?”

Abby’s brow wrinkles. “What?”

“When I’m having a bad day, naps and snacks always help. So which would you rather have first?”

“I…” She eyes me incredulously, but I just keep the pasted smile on my face, waiting for her answer. She looks shy when she admits, “I am kind of tired.”

“Right.” I nod, wrapping my arm around her—which is kind of hard, given that she’s at least four inches taller than me. “Let’s put you to bed, and I’ll do what I do best when I’m stressed, which is bake. When you wake up, we’ll get to the snacks.”

Her eyes stay glued to the floor as I practically march her toward Ian’s bedroom, but after I tuck her behind the door, she utters a quiet, “Thank you, um…?”

“Delilah,” I tell her. “But most people call me Dee, except your brother. He calls me Lila.”

“Lila,” she says without hesitation, a small smile on her face that reminds me so much of her brother that it momentarily takes me by surprise. “Thank you.”

I can see her sadness and her vulnerability coming off her in waves, and I decide right then that she and I are going to be friends. That neither of the Chase siblings are ever going to be sad on my watch.

“You’re welcome,” I tell her. I point to Ian’s bed. “Now nap. That’s an order.”

She’s still smiling softly when I leave her, and despite all the revelations that we’ve endured today, I feel…hopeful.

It has me smiling as I start riffling through Jack and Ian’s cabinets.

“So how did he take it?”

I have my cell propped between my shoulder and ear as I check the oven, the smell of baking dough permeating the kitchen as I decide to give the cookies another minute.

Jack makes a noncommittal sound. “I mean, there was some yelling, but from what I gathered pressing my ear to the door—”

“Wow, talk about professional boundaries,” I snort.

“I don’t think Coach was really mad at Ian but more for Ian.”

“I mean, he’s always been a bit of a closet softy,” I point out.

Jack scoffs. “Tell that to my hips after a day of drills.”

“That sounded entirely too sexual to be in reference to your coach.”

Jack snickers. “Coach wouldn’t know what to do with me.”

“I don’t think a retired porn star with a psych degree they got for shits and gigs would know what to do with you,” I say, clucking my tongue.

“I choose to take that as a compliment,” he says primly.

“You would.” I check the cookies again, finally determining that they’re done and pulling them out with an oven mitt to set the pan on the oven so they can cool. “So when are you guys coming back?”

“Soon,” Jack tells me. “I think they’re finishing up now. How is Abby?”

“She’s been napping,” I say. “I put her down an hour ago after you left. She looked like she needed it.”

“You ‘put her down’? She’s not a toddler.”

“Neither are you, but you’re still a nightmare to deal with when you’re tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. She going to be okay, you think?”

“I think so,” I say, only half-sure, really. “Maybe. I don’t know. She’s been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but she’s got us,” he muses.

“Oh?” I lean against the counter. “Does she?”

“I mean, Ian is my brother, and he’s now in some gross incestuous relationship with you—”

“Yeah, still not accurate.”

“So I figure we can confidently assume that we’re going to adopt the baby Chase sibling.”

“She’s twenty-five,” I chuckle. “Hardly a baby.”

“I know that. She’s kind of hot in an Ian way.”

“In an Ian way?”

“She looks a lot like him. Kind of weird. Confusing to my libido.”

“You are so strange.”

“You love me.”

“For some reason.”

“Hey, I think Ian’s coming. We’ll be back soon, okay? Hold down the fort.”

“We’ll be here,” I tell him.

I set my phone on the counter, digging into a bag of sugar I pulled out from underneath the cabinet and sprinkling a bit on top of the cooling cookies to give them an extra kick of sweetness. I learned very early on that a little sugar can sweeten any bad times you’re experiencing, and I figure Abby and Ian could use it.

“Those look good.”

I jolt, dusting sugar all over the oven. “Abby!”

“Sorry!” She holds up her hands in apology, looking contrite. “I thought you heard me.”

“It’s fine,” I say with a quiet laugh. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mostly. I do feel better after the nap.”

“Told you,” I tell her smugly. I point to the cookies. “And I’m just finishing up the snack portion of today’s therapy session.”

“They smell incredible,” she admits, eyeing the cookies. “I watch your show, you know.”

“You do?”

“Well, I mean…I started after Ian was on.”

My lips curl. “That’s sweet. He looked like the Hulk trying to handle teacups up there, didn’t he?”

“Kind of,” she laughs. “But it was fun to watch.”

There’s a fond look on her face, and I think it’s safe to say that Abby admires her brother more than she lets on. Not that I blame her. I pick up a still-warm cookie, testing that it’s cooled enough that it won’t fall apart before handing it to her.

“Here,” I say.

She takes it gingerly, biting into it and moaning as her eyes close. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah?”

“This is amazing.”

“It’s the touch of cinnamon.”

“I can totally taste it.”

I take a cookie for myself, moving to one of the chairs at the overhanging counter and taking a seat before patting the one next to me. Abby settles into it, taking another large bite of her cookie as a look of bliss spreads across her face.

“You look just like your brother,” I laugh.

She peeks over at me sheepishly. “Really?”

“He also inhales my cookies like a starved coyote.”

Her freckled cheeks tint in a blush, and she bites back her grin. “They’re really good.”

“I take it as the highest compliment.”

“So…you two are dating?”

I consider this as I take another bite. “I guess so. I mean, we sort of just now put a label on it.”

“Like recently?”

“Like last night,” I laugh.

“Oh.”

“But we’ve been…something for weeks now.”

“I’m glad,” she comments softly. She cuts her eyes to me. “That he has you. He deserves that.”

“He has you too,” I remind her. “He cares about you a lot. I know we don’t know each other, and he only recently told me the entire truth of everything that’s happened between you, but I can tell by the way he talks about you that he really cares.”

“That’s…good.” She stares at the counter, her cookie forgotten in her hand for a moment. “I’ve always felt like I’m just a burden to him.” She blinks then, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

“It’s the cookie,” I tease. “They’re truth cookies.”

“Must be,” she mutters, taking another bite.

“You’re not, you know,” I say. “A burden to him.”

“How can you know that for sure?”

“Because Ian doesn’t think of people like that,” I say confidently. “Not when he cares for them. He’s just not that kind of person. He’s always putting others before himself. It’s just second nature for him to make sure everyone he loves is okay before he does the same thing for himself.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse.”

“It just is what it is,” I say with a shrug, popping the last of the cookie into my mouth. “Ian’s always been a safety net for people. Once you fall into it, he’s gonna make sure to do his damnedest to hold you up safe and sound for as long as he’s able.”

“I’ve always wished we were closer,” she sighs.

“Then why don’t you tell him that? I know he would love to be.”

“You can’t know that,” she mumbles bitterly. “I’m a mistake. Just some kid his dad had when he cheated on Ian’s mom.”

“You’re his family,” I say firmly. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I can tell you that you’re not a mistake. Not for Ian. If he says he loves you, then he loves you. If he says he wants to protect you, then that’s what he really wants. Ian is…” I know my smile is dopey, but I can’t help it. “Ian really is just that selfless. It would hurt him more for you to pull away.”

“You really think so?”

I take a chance, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. “I know it.”

“I…Thank you. That makes me feel a little better.”

“Plus, it’s not just Ian. If you’re important to him, then you’re important to me. Same goes for my idiot brother, but I would totally understand if you don’t want to capitalize on that one.”

“Is he always…?”

“Unhinged? Yes. But it grows on you.”

A genuine smile touches her lips, maybe the first full one I’ve seen since meeting her. “Thank you, Lila. I can’t tell you what that means to me.”

“I know exactly what it feels like to think you’re alone in this world, Abby, I really do, so trust me when I say that you are not alone.” I squeeze her shoulder again. “We’re all here for you.”

Her eyes glisten, and her throat works subtly, but she just nods, popping the last of her cookie in her mouth in lieu of answering. “Fucking truth cookies.”

“They’re the worst,” I laugh.

“They really aren’t.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, taking my last bite. “I know.”

Abby opens her mouth to say something, but a sudden pounding at the door has both of us jolting in our seats, heads twisting toward the sound.

Abby’s brow knits. “Ian?”

“They have a key…” Another loud banging ensues. “Why would they…?”

“Open the fucking door!” A sharp, angry voice calls. “I know you’re in there.”

Abby’s eyes, full of panic, go wide, meeting mine. “It’s my dad.”

“How the fuck did he even get up here?”

“He has his ways,” Abby mutters. “There isn’t a string that exists that my dad can’t pull. Doesn’t help that people in this city treat him like he’s the mayor or something.”

My body goes on high alert. “I can ignore him. We don’t have to let him in. We can wait for Jack and Ian.”

Almost as if he can hear us, Bradley yells, “Ian! I’m not leaving!”

“No,” Abby says, drawing in an unsteady breath. “Let him in. He’s just going to draw more attention to us if he keeps yelling like that.”

“Are you sure?”

She’s already sliding off her chair. “I’m sure.”

“Stay there.”

I push past her, determined not to let Bradley Chase cause any more grief for the Chase siblings if I can help it. I steel all five foot four of myself before reaching for the handle, turning it, and pulling the door wide to reveal one angry, elder Chase.

“I want to talk to my son,” he says curtly. “Get him.”

“I’m failing to hear the request in there,” I say coolly.

His eyes narrow. “I’m not here to play games with you, little girl.”

“Never been very good at games,” I say sweetly.

He pushes past me then, ignoring my sound of protest as he rushes into the apartment. His eyes scan the space quickly, settling on Abby, who is still frozen in the kitchen and pausing as confusion colors his features.

“Abigail?”

“Hi, Dad,” she says meekly.

“What are you doing here? Where is Ian?” His eyes narrow yet again. “Did the two of you conspire to do this? Is this some sort of ploy to get more money? Because, I swear to God, I will fucking ruin the both of you.”

Abby’s face goes white, her skin paling so much that her freckles look starker, more noticeable. The entire effect makes her seem smaller, younger even. Her nonanswer seems to be enough for Bradley to come to his own conclusions, and his face purples with rage.

“Dad, I just—”

Bradley makes a disgusted sound. “I should have known. Haven’t I done everything for you? Who pays for that fancy grad school? What, that wasn’t enough for you?”

“I never wanted to—”

“Wanted to what?” He stomps toward her, shaking a finger at her. “You never wanted to be a total fucking disappointment? I thought maybe one of my children could do what they’re fucking told, but you’re both just complete wastes of time, aren’t you? I don’t even know why I bother. Your brother might be a fuckup, but I thought I could at least count on you to keep your mouth shut, considering you’d have nothing without me.”

I can’t take it anymore. I leave the door ajar as I rush across the room, ignoring the fact that Bradley might as well be twice my size as I give him a hard shove in the side to put myself between him and Abby.

“Leave her alone,” I seethe. “You think you’re some kind of big man coming in here and making threats? Throwing your weight around like we’re supposed to be scared of some bitter old man who cares more about some dumbass legacy than his own children? News flash, Mr. Chase, your son is twice the man you ever were or could ever hope to be, and I barely even know your daughter but can confidently say that she deserves better than the likes of you for a father.”

Bradley takes a menacing step, the vein at his temple throbbing as he sneers. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You think because you’re fucking my son that you’re important? You’re nothing. Just some two-bit cake maker with a cable show no one cares about. Who the fuck cares what you think?”

A flash of movement in the open door behind us catches my eye, but before I can even register it fully—hands grasp the sleeve of Bradley’s shirt, shoving him away as Ian’s broad body slams into his, his normally happy face teeming with unchecked anger as he practically spits at his father:

“I do.”