Chapter 5
Iremember the day that Chase finally proposed to me. The twelfth of January, less than two weeks after the Turning began.
It was an impulsive proposal. Once we realized that the Turning changed everything, that there was no use clinging to a life plan that meant shit when we were both mourning those we lost—Mom and Rory, Chase’s entire immediate family—and the world we knew, I think Chase panicked.
We had no idea what to expect, but he seemed to think that it would be easier to face the apocalypse if he had a wife at his side.
So he asked, and saying “yes” was enough to pull me out of my grief if only for a little while.
We figured someone had to be coming to save us.
That the president would have to do something—but he was given the Injection, too, and he Turned on live television and was killed by his own Secret Service before they inevitably Turned next.
We picked Valentine’s Day as our wedding date.
By then, the Grave was coming together, and focusing on survival was more important than a ceremony that really didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.
So it was pushed back, and it was pushed back, and eventually we planned on having the ceremony the second week of July.
But then a Holden twin died in a routine flaming, and I spent the time after that lusting after my “sister”’s fiancé and hating myself for it.
So, technically, I’m not wrong. I’m not his wife.
Fuck what that piece of shit Darryl said.
The way I see it, what happened in East Jersey is going to stay in East Jersey, so no matter what Chase thinks and what he told Caroline, Hallie was his fiancé, but Holden… I don’t know who I am to him anymore.
I’m not his wife, though, and I hate that it came out so bluntly like that.
My hands fly to my mouth, like covering it up now will take back what I said. I can’t even pretend he didn’t hear me. The look on his face… yeah. He heard me.
Damn it.
I wince, dropping my hands back to my side. “Chase, I… you know what I mean.”
He has to.
Right?
Maybe.
He yanks back the quilt, dropping down to the edge of the bed. “I think I do. And I get it. It’s fine.” It’s not fine. “We can talk about it in the morning. You said you didn’t want to talk. So let’s just go to bed.”
I wish I could, but that’s not what any Holden does.
If there’s one thing that led to my parents being happily married until the day Mom Turned is that they had a rule. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t go to bed hurt. Make sure that you’re okay at some level so that any arguments or misunderstandings don’t carry over until morning.
“Wait—”
He positions the quilt over his lap. “Yes?”
“I love you.”
That’s not what I was going to say. I had every intention of trying to explain that I didn’t mean to hurt him, but that I don’t want him to get his hopes up that things would go back to the way they were before the flaming accident.
Only I looked at Chase, at that puppy dog expression of his as he let hope creep in, and it’s the only thing I could say.
He gives me the tiniest grin. “I know.”
He has no fucking idea.
“No, you don’t.” My voice cracks, and I hate it.
“You can’t know because I don’t fucking know what’s going on anymore.
But I do know that I love you. It’s the only thing in my head that makes any damn sense.
Nothing else does. I remember wanting to marry you.
I remember your proposal and how we picked Valentine’s Day.
I remember planning a wedding that never happened…
I remember all of it, but it’s like remembering somebody else’s life even though I know it’s mine. ”
If I need any other proof that I subconsciously recognize that I am Hallie, it’s in what happens next. I collapse in on my self, the emotions so overwhelming that I’m about to just let go, give in to the tears, and fucking sob.
Before I do, he’s right in front of me. Chase threw the blanket away from him, closing the space between us in a heartbeat. One second, he was there, now he’s here, and he swallows me up in his embrace.
And I let him. I throw my hands around his neck, holding onto him for dear life as I bury my face into the side of his neck.
That’s what I needed. I cling to him as I get control of myself, all as he rubs my book while whispering soothingly to me.
At first, I can’t even make out what he’s saying.
There’s an I love you in there, plus an I’ve got you, but it isn’t until Chase tells me firmly, “You’re going to be okay, baby,” that I find my voice.
It’s muffled and it’s hoarse, and I mean it when I tell him, “I don’t think so.”
“You will.” His tone is firmer now. “Trust me. I’ve got you, and I’m not letting you go again. I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.”
Now that? That I do believe.
I shudder out a breath, holding back the flood of emotions welling up inside of me, then breathe him in as his arms tighten around me.
He smells like the bar soap in the bathroom, the shampoo we both used, but underneath that, there’s something so undeniably Chase that I find it easy to forget that I just broke his heart.
I broke his fucking heart by denying him, then I told him I loved him, and now I’m holding his naked body close and…
Oh.
Fuck.
I think I forgot he was naked, too.
Not only that, but as my brain comes back online, I realize that the erection he promised would go down has reared its head to say “hi” as Chase managed to trap it between our bodies when he wrapped me up in his arms.
I know he would never do that on purpose.
What we had was a heartfelt moment, and if there’s one thing that I will always remember about Chase, it’s that he’s never pushed me.
Anything we’ve ever done together, I’ve been an enthusiastic, consenting partner.
When he wants me, he won’t do a thing about it unless I want him.
What makes it so much fucking worse is that I do. I want him, but I shouldn’t have him, and the second I recognize that it’s his dick poking me, I squeal and jump away from him.
“Holden? What’s wrong?”
Points for remembering what name to call me, Chase, but he has to know what’s wrong. But, in case he doesn’t, I point at his cock.
He flushes. “I told you, I can’t control it. If you want to talk semantics, you may not be my wife, but you’re still my fiancée. I didn’t mean anything sexual by that hug, but my cock… he’s got a mind of his own.”
Obviously.
“I also told you to ignore it,” he reminds me, enough of the old, familiar cheerfulness in his tone that I know Chase is finding a touch of amusement to the fact that—after more than a decade together—I’m suddenly afraid of his genitals. “I will if you will.”
Xandra wasn’t afraid of anything. Hallie… I can’t say the same, but I sure as hell have never been afraid of Chase’s cock.
Later, I’ll think that I was looking for an excuse. That’s what I do. I don’t want to own my choices, but give me a reason to just play along… it’s like what happened out in the woods the night we actually met Veronica for the first time.
I remember that—just like I remember what happened when I followed Chase out into the trees, searching for him after he took too long to come back.
And as that night pops back into my head, my mouth speaks before my brain can catch up to it:
“What if I don’t want you to?”
The amused smile slides right off of his face. “Babe?”
I take a step toward him. “You told me that you were struggling with your erections while we were traveling with Mav. That, when they got that bad, you would handle it yourself, then come back to camp.”
He told me some other bullshit, too, about how guys back at the Grave would jack off and leave come out on the grass to keep lurkers away, but I knew why Chase disappeared into the trees to masturbate: because he wanted to fuck me and he couldn’t, and instead of putting the pressure on me, he took care of it himself.
I watch his Adam’s apple bob nervously. “Yeah. It was either that or have the world’s worst case of blue balls. But that’s my problem. Not yours.”
True. “Are you going to take care of it now?” As red starts creeping up his neck, I know I’m right. “You were, weren’t you? You were going to tiptoe into the bathroom after I fell asleep and rub one out.”
Chase gives me an easy shrug. “Already christened the shower stall,” he says, and the fact that there’s no shame in his answer is my downfall. “If I have to do it again, I will. You know me. If you’re not in the mood, conversation over. You can trust me.”
Oh, Chase… that’s never been a question in my mind.
“I do.”
“Oh. Well. Good.”
I trust him, and I love him, and, shit, I know I’m supposed to forget his erection, but I can’t.
I don’t want to, either. And everything I’m about to do is going to have him second-guessing everything I just said, but I can’t help myself.
My head might be confused, but the rest of me…
it knows Chase Knight so intimately that, just like when I believed I was Xandra, I can’t stop myself from moving even closer to him and asking in a husky voice, “Do you trust me?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “You know I do.”
I catch his jaw in my hand. “Then let me handle it.”
He goes still.
I caress the edge of his jaw with my thumb. “Mixed signals, huh?”
He chuckles weakly even as he leans into my touch. “A little.”
“I know. And feel free to tell me to fuck off, but I… if there’s one thing that helps anchor me, that helps me remember who I am…
it’s you, Chase. Your scent. Your taste.
It’s like I always recognized that you were mine, no matter who I thought I was.
This,” I add, running the backs of my fingers against his heated flesh.
His dick twitches. His eyes close. I lean in and kiss him.
“This is enough for the moment. I know that I belong here. I belong with you. I owe you more than I can ever repay—”
His eyes pop open. “You owe me shit. I’ll do everything for you—”