Truce or Dare (Sweet Fortuity Book 1) (16 page)

I
was freaking out
.

I didn’t know what to wear. I didn’t know what was going on anymore.

In other words, I was having a complete meltdown.

Everyone was ecstatic when we came back, although when Chase was there, I could see Sierra’s fingers twitching at her side. Somehow, I had a feeling she still wanted to punch him.

Two days ago, I was convinced we were done. Now we were… What were we exactly?

* * *

W
hen he lifted
his eyes to meet mine, my breath caught in my throat.

There was no more anger, guardedness, or glacial edge to his gaze. When they landed on me, they were warm. For the first time in a while, I felt the past fall away. Right here, right now, whatever happened years ago didn’t factor in.

He put his elbows on the table and leaned in. His eyes zeroed in on my lips. When I cleared my throat to get his attention, he looked back up at my eyes. “I’m not gonna waste time talking about the past. I think we’re past that,” he stated, in a take-charge tone. “If you feel strongly about something, we talk it out, but the rest, we handle them as they come.”

I stared.

Just like that.

He closed it without giving any room for doubt, or that there was any possibility that this wouldn’t work out. Like any problems we could handle, and somehow, an unspoken reassurance that he’d never let anything hurt me, because I would never have to deal with it alone.

“Sherr,” his voice said, calling my attention. “I need to know. That okay with you?”

“Y-yes.”

Oh my God. What the heck was going on? Unable to help myself, I blurted out, “Chase– what are we?”

A smile touched his face, and reached his eyes as he replied, “I’m not gonna put labels. Gonna take this slow. We’re whatever you want this to be.”

I was stunned.

We’re whatever you want this to be
.

There was a freedom in that. No judgement, no expectations.

“I want…” What did I want? It frustrated me how hard it was to define the feeling. I gave up, and going with what felt right to me, simply declared, “I want you.”

My response seemed to please him. “There she is,” he murmured.

It confused me, because I was right here this whole time.

“You give me you, baby, and you get all of me,” he continued.

“Chase,” I replied softly, and I swiped a tear with the back of my hand. “You have me.”

A look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes, and I felt it, low in my gut, something simmering between us.

He took my hand, pressed it to his lips, and he held it there. And after what felt like a long time, he let it go, but when our eyes met, I felt something between us shift. Like knowledge that held a ripple effect, it felt huge, and it felt
real
. And I felt it deep, the start of something taking root.

* * *

A
s we headed
out after dinner, my steps slowed down as I looked out, the lights like shining specks of dust scattered down below.

“Oh wow,” I whispered admiringly.

The view was incredible, because the restaurant was built on a slanted hill. This high up, everything was distant, the stars only adding to it.

As I leaned over the rail, I stiffened as his arms wrapped around me.

And almost despairingly, I realized I couldn't just fall back in his arms and just feel.

What he said next surprised me. “I’m learning.”

"Learning what?"

His thoughtful gaze didn’t miss a thing. “You don't trust easy. I should've taken care of it."

He’d noticed.

He didn't need to apologize for it. It wasn't his fault.

"I never forgot it," I blurted out, averting my gaze to my hands instead. "The look on your face when I told you no."

Some nights I'd dream of it. Sometimes I'd hear something play on the radio and break down in tears, not really understanding why I felt it so deep.

His eyes warmed. "You understood," he murmured.

I did. More than anyone, because when he ended it I realized what I'd done to him, and it was as if a knife twisted in my chest.

He took a step closer. "Sherr. Look at me."

Tipping my head up, his eyes met mine. "I'm sorry."

His words were loaded with so much regret, I had to look away or I'd burst into tears. Get a grip, I told myself.

“You wouldn’t look at me," I babbled. "That night, you wouldn't look at me. That's when it sank in– that I lost you."

"Still here," he murmured.

He was my rock, something I always counted on that I had. I thought he’d wait for me. I thought we’d be okay.

I felt stupid for hoping. For wanting.

Although I hadn’t meant to, I’d given him a piece of my heart. And until he broke it, I didn’t know he had it.

How did I undo that?

But I wanted to give this a chance. No labels. I could do that.

* * *

H
e drove around for a while
, and I kept my window open as some rock song played out loud.

Just as we were approaching the intersection, he asked, “Want to drop by Serendipitous?”

“I’m not going back there any time soon,” I shot the idea down immediately. It was too soon since that last encounter, and I had a feeling Tory wouldn’t exactly want to welcome me back with open arms. The guy had a seriously long memory. One time, a non-local disorderly drunk, who came to visit for a week caused a scene, knocking over some bottles. He got a ban, effective immediately.

He looked at me curiously, and then I saw the moment it finally struck him. “Heard about a commotion in Serendipitous. You were involved?” he asked, sounding amused.

I grimaced. “I neither confirm, nor deny.”

“You were,” he choked back a laugh. “It’s okay. I heard his daughter loved your books. You can work on softening the guy a little.”

The car slowed down to a halt. He walked me to my door, a hand resting low on my back. As if he couldn’t stand the distance between us.

I perked up at the suggestion. “That’s a great–”

I paused, pushing the door open as I stepped in, and froze.

* * *

I
couldn’t pinpoint exactly
what it was at first, but something didn’t feel right as I walked in.

Then when I traced my steps back, up to when I first pushed the door open, it hit me.

A lot of people left their houses open. If I wasn’t the last one to walk out, chances are, it wouldn’t be locked. But locking mine became a habit that I had yet to shake off.

But this time the door wasn’t locked, and it opened as soon as I twisted the knob.

A shiver of fear crept through me.

Someone had been here.

Chase knew something was up when I didn’t move from my spot. I looked up at him and whispered, “It’s open. The door shouldn’t be open.”

Eyes alert, he switched the lights on. Then he turned to me, and in a voice that brook no argument, said, “Stay here. I’ll go have a look.”

Someone came in, touched my things, and maybe even took them. The thought sickened me.

Why would anyone do that?

I lived comfortably, but there were other people who were wealthier.

After some time, Chase emerged back to the living room. “All clear.”

He took my hands in his warm ones, and led me in. It looked the same.

“This is my home,” I whispered. “Someone went in here.”

Chase got me into a position where I was nestled against him on my couch.

“I know, baby.” He rubbed my back soothingly. I didn’t realize I’d been shaking until my body started to relax under his touch.

“Why would someone do that? What would they even…”

The email
.

For some reason, that message flashed in my mind, and I shot up straight and ran to my room.

Leonardo and Kath
. That was my third book on my latest series.

It wasn’t on my shelf.

I liked having the paperback copy. It was an awesome feeling, having the physical copy of months of hard work. Sometimes it served as a useful reference, if I wanted to look through multiple things at once.

I found my copy spread open on the floor as if casually tossed. My heart dropped. I thumbed through the book. Leo didn’t have very much page time, so I knew roughly where to find his parts.

He drew on it. Scratched to the point where every mention of the hero’s name was pressed so hard that it made holes. My hand was wet with something, and when I realized what it was, my stomach churned. I dropped it like it was on fire.

Chase followed behind me, and his eyes glinted with fury when he saw what I held. “Fuck. He jerked off to it?” he growled, pulling it away from my grasp.

He pulled me out of my room as I sobbed, and I couldn’t seem to stop.

Then he made a call.

* * *

B
y the time
the police left, I was spent.

I liked him here, but I didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay. “You should probably go. You must be tired.”

His eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve had a long day, gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

I blinked, not expecting his response. He was going to stay?