The heart that was stuck in my throat slid down to my chest and started beating again. And it seemed to be making up for lost time because it was hammering away.
“Chase?”
He was leaning against the wall next to my apartment door, looking down. When he looked up, I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. Even worn and tired, he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. His eyes were glassy, and I wondered if he was drunk. Is that what he’s here for? Showing up at my apartment only because he’s been drinking?
I’d forgotten Owen was behind me until I felt the hand on my shoulder squeeze. Apparently Chase noticed the man behind me for the first time because I watched his eyes rise over my shoulder and his jaw clench.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I still hadn’t moved, leaving an awkward fifteen feet between us.
“Can we talk?” Chase asked.
“Umm…sure.” It took another few seconds before I could figure out how to make my feet move. Then, hesitantly, I took a few steps.
When I reached the door, Chase caught my eye.
“Alone,” he clarified.
Reaching into my purse, I took out my keys and offered them to him, tilting my head toward the door. “Go ahead in. Give me a few minutes.”
For a second, he glared at Owen, and I thought something ugly was going to happen. But eventually he nodded, unlocked the door, and went inside.
It took a few minutes to assure my big brother that I would be fine. I’d already told him about Chase, but being overprotective, he found it difficult to walk away. I kissed him on the cheek and promised to text him within an hour. Otherwise, he assured me, he’d be back at my door.
When I was finally alone in the hallway, I took some time to gather myself. Eventually, I smoothed my dress, summoned my courage, and walked into my apartment.
Chase was sitting on the couch when I walked in. A creature of habit, I immediately turned to the coat closet and slipped off my sweater, even though I didn’t keep it there.
“I already did it. Twice.” He offered a smile, but I could see the sadness looming behind it.
God, please don’t break my heart. Again.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” I walked to the kitchen to pour myself some. To the brim. Maybe even drink from the bottle.
“No, thanks.”
I felt his eyes on me as I maneuvered my way through the kitchen. When I was done, I stuttered before choosing a seat. Deciding on the chair, rather than the couch next to Chase, I sat and sipped my wine.
He waited patiently until I gave him my attention. “Come here.”
I closed my eyes. There was nowhere I’d rather be than right next to him, but I needed to know what he was here for. What this was.
“Why?” I sipped my wine again so I had an excuse to look away.
“Because I need you near me.”
I looked at him. Still debating, still unsure.
“Because I miss you. I miss you so goddamn much, Reese.”
I had to swallow because tears of happiness were starting to threaten. Yet I was still afraid. There was something he still needed to do. I couldn’t allow myself to get sucked back in unless he gave me everything. He was an all-or-nothing for me.
I moved to the couch, and Chase took the wine from my hand, setting it on the table. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled my body close against his. I could barely breathe, he held me so tight. Yet it felt so good to be back in his arms. So right.
“I’m so sorry, Reese. So sorry I hurt you,” he mumbled into my hair.
After a long time, he pulled back so we could face each other. His eyes searched mine, looking for something. Assurance, maybe?#p#分页标题#e#
Finding whatever he needed, he cleared his throat and spoke softly. “When I was twelve, I bought an old Swiss Army knife at a garage sale. Carried the thing with me for years.” He paused and looked down. Taking my right hand in his, he ran his thumb over my scar repeatedly. When he looked back up at me, there were tears in his eyes. “I gave it to Eddie. The homeless guy Peyton was trying to help.” His voice broke. “I thought he could use it to defend himself in an emergency.”
The pain in his voice was unbearable. I wanted to do something to soothe him, bring him comfort. But I knew he needed to get it out. It wasn’t just a hurdle for our relationship; it was a monumental step for his healing. And I wanted that more than anything. I squeezed his hand and gave him a small nod.
“All these years, we thought it was a group of teenagers beating up on homeless people who killed Peyton, that she was caught in the crossfire of an attack on Eddie.” He took a deep breath in and released it with a whoosh. “It wasn’t. It was Eddie who killed her.” He looked down and squeezed my hand, then his eyes came back to mine. “With the knife I gave him. It was my knife that killed her.”