35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chase is already kneeling beside my bed when I slip back into the room after checking the hallway one last time.
Sophie hovers nearby, following his instructions with wide eyed focus.
She holds the small bag of fluids level while he adjusts the drip rate, his big hands moving with surprising gentleness.
Noodle looks so much better since yesterday.
Her eyes are brighter, her breathing steadier, and she even lifts her head to give my fingers a weak but determined bump when I reach for her.
The medicine and fluids have worked fast. Relief floods through me so strongly that my knees feel a little shaky.
Chase sits back on his heels and gives her one last careful stroke along her side. “She’s stable,” he says, voice low. “The fever has stayed down. Keep her warm, make sure she finishes the antibiotics, and she’ll be fine in a couple of days. Just rest and quiet for now.”
Sophie lets out a relieved breath. “You’re a lifesaver, Chase. Seriously.”
He nods once, already packing his kit with the same calm efficiency he arrived with.
Then he looks up at me, dark eyes unwavering but softer around the edges.
“I still want to take you out tonight. If you’re up for it.
The shelter closes at seven, but I thought…
maybe you would like to see where I spend most of my time. ”
I hesitate only for a second. Noodle is already curling back into her blanket, looking sleepy and content. “I would like that,” I say, shyly. “A lot.”
Chase stands, slinging the black bag over his shoulder. “Meet me out front in ten. Wear whatever feels comfortable.”
He slips out the side door the same way he came in, leaving the room feeling strangely quieter without his massive presence.
The second the door clicks shut, Sophie spins toward me with wide eyes and a dramatic hand pressed to her chest. “Oh my god, Elodie. Did you see the way he just took charge? That man is so hot when he’s in vet mode.
The calm voice, the gentle hands, the way he knew exactly what Noodle needed.
I was standing there like a useless potato and he made it look effortless.
You are so lucky. Like, stupidly lucky. I cannot believe you get all four of them, but especially that one.
He is basically a walking cinnamon roll with a side of growly protectiveness. ”
I laugh as I pull off my lecture clothes and step into my favorite jeans and a velvety sweater. “He is pretty great,” I admit, cheeks flushed. “Even when he’s lecturing me about open windows.”
Sophie flops back on her bed with a happy sigh. “Go have fun. And tell me every detail later. Especially if he takes that leather jacket off.”
I grab my bag, still smiling from her gushing, and head downstairs. Chase is waiting in the small side lot, leaning against a black motorcycle that looks powerful and sleek under the late afternoon light. A second helmet rests on the seat next to him.
My stomach flips. This is my first time ever on a bike.
He holds the helmet out to me, his expression serious. “It should fit.”
I take it and slide it on. The fit is snug and secure. Chase leans in to fasten the strap under my chin, his fingers brushing my throat.
My breath catches at how close he is. The black leather jacket stretches across his broad shoulders, the material worn thin in places from years of use. He looks incredibly hot like this, next to the bike with that solemn intensity.
He slides his own helmet on and swings his leg over before starting the engine. The deep rumble vibrates through me as I climb on behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing close. The leather is hot from the sun and smells faintly of him, pine forest and clean musk.
Before he pulls away, Chase turns his head slightly.
“I chose the bike instead of the truck because I don’t want to treat you like fragile glass, Elodie.
I know I came on too strong last night about the window.
I was worried about Mittens and I couldn’t control my protective instincts well enough.
I’m sorry for how intense I got. I’m working on it. I just… need you to know that.”
The apology lands vulnerable and sincere. I squeeze my arms around him a little tighter in answer.
Then we are moving.
The wind rushes past as soon as we leave the lot, whipping the ends of my hair around the helmet and sending a wild thrill through my whole body. The powerful rumble of the engine vibrates beneath me.
The road opens up and the fall scenery blurs into streaks of gold and red. Every curve, every acceleration makes my pulse race in the best way. It feels exhilarating. Free.
Chase’s hand leaves the handlebar for a second to rest over mine where it grips his jacket, a silent check-in. I smile against his back and hold on tighter.
Whatever comes next, I’m ready.
The motorcycle slows as Chase turns into a long driveway lined with trees. A modest brick building comes into view, its glowing sign reading “Rosewood Animal Shelter & Rescue” in cheerful letters.
He kills the engine and helps me off the bike, his hands encompassing my waist. I pull off the helmet and shake out my hair, still trying to process where we are.
“You volunteer here?” I ask, unable to hide the delight in my voice.
Chase nods, a small but genuine smile breaking through his usual serious expression. “A few times a week. Come on. I want you to see it.”
The moment we walk through the front doors, something in Chase changes. The tense, protective alpha I have come to know relaxes instantly. His shoulders lower. His dark eyes warm. He looks lighter, happier, like he’s stepped into a place where he truly belongs.
A middle aged woman at the front desk lights up when she sees him. “Chase! You weren’t due in today. And you brought a friend?”
He introduces me simply, then leads me through the main hallway. The shelter smells of clean bedding, disinfectant, and that unmistakable animal scent. Booming barks and delicate meows echo from different rooms. Chase moves with easy confidence, greeting every staff member by name.
We step into the kitten nursery first. Several small pens are set up with heating pads and fuzzy blankets.
Chase immediately kneels beside one and picks up a tiny orange kitten that is struggling to latch onto a bottle.
Without hesitation, he cradles the little creature against his broad chest and begins bottle feeding it with the gentlest hands I have ever seen.
My heart does a low flip.
“Look at you,” I whisper, watching in awe. The massive alpha who argued with me about open windows last night is now murmuring encouragement to a palm sized kitten. “You’re so gentle with them.”
He glances up at me, a shy smile tugging at his mouth. “They need it. Most of them come in scared or sick. You have to go slow.”
He hands me another bottle and shows me how to hold the next kitten. We sit side by side on the floor, feeding the litter together. His shoulder brushes mine, and every now and then he reaches over to adjust my grip with careful fingers.
The kittens are tiny, their little paws kneading against our hands. Chase’s voice is low and patient as he explains each one’s story — the abandoned litter found behind a dumpster, the runt who needed extra help.
From there he takes me to the dog wing where a fearful German Shepherd mix cowers in the corner of her kennel.
Chase approaches, crouching down and speaking in that same gentle voice.
Within minutes the dog is inching closer, tail giving the smallest wag.
He spends a long time with her, offering treats and gentle pets until she is leaning into his hand with trust.
I watch him the entire time, completely mesmerized. This is a side of Chase I have never seen before. The big softie. The man who pours his heart into healing animals who have been hurt or abandoned.
The contrast between his gruff exterior and this incredible tenderness makes something deep inside me shift.
Later, we move to the puppy room. A litter of energetic lab mixes tumble over each other. Chase laughs, actually laughs, a deep rumbling sound, when one of them tries to climb his leg.
He sits right on the floor and lets them swarm him, his big hands deftly untangling paws and giving belly rubs. One puppy falls asleep on his lap, and he stays perfectly still to not disturb it.
I can’t stop staring.
This is Chase. Not just the intense, protective alpha who gets angry about open windows. This is the real him — patient, kind, and incredibly tender with every creature that needs him.
He looks up at me from the floor, a puppy still snoring on his thigh, and gives me a small, almost bashful smile.
“You’re really good at this,” I say sincerely.
His smile deepens just a fraction. “It’s the one place I feel like I can actually help. Where my instincts make sense.”
I feel my heart expand as I watch him. The big softie side of Chase is no longer hidden. It’s right here, in plain sight, surrounded by wagging tails and tiny meows.
And I am falling for it. Hard.
One of the shelter volunteers brings in a tiny gray kitten that needs bottle feeding.
Chase takes her without hesitation, cradling the little thing against his broad chest. The puppy on his lap stays fast asleep, completely trusting.
I scoot closer on the floor and he hands me the bottle, showing me again exactly how to angle it so the kitten can latch properly.
For a while we sit in comfortable silence, the only sounds the suckling of the kitten and the occasional happy sigh from the sleeping puppy.
Chase’s big hand covers mine, guiding the bottle with gentle steadiness.
His pine forest and clean musk scent mixes with the warm, milky smell of the nursery, and I feel something in my chest thaw even more.