I’d been staying at my house more and more, not because I wanted to Every damn inch of the place reminded me of my father. But staying on campus meant that I would possibly run into Trace, and I didn’t trust myself enough not to charge toward her and apologize for being such an ass.
Chase updated both me and Frank on a daily basis.
And with every update, I got sicker and sicker. One week he sent me pictures of them eating ice cream at her dorm, and I almost lost it. I threw my phone against eh wall, shattering it on contact.
Over ice cream.
She was happy, so I should be happy.
But she was happy with him. Not me. Therefore, I was pissed. Always pissed.
Phoenix hadn’t made things better. After our little falling out in the hallway, he’d refused to answer any of my phone calls or texts. Finally, he agreed to meet with me and hand over any information he could glean from his father about the shady deposit into their account.
What we both discovered wasn’t pretty.
It linked them to some unknown family in Sicily.
Which meant it had to be a well-known family, who was pulling a lot of strings and paying De Lange a lot.
But why?
Phoenix had no idea.
And it seemed like the deeper we dug, the worse it became.
Not to mention that Phoenix had more bruises on his neck. He looked like hell. When I offered him a place to stay, he flipped me off and left the same way he’d come… broken.
I couldn’t help but feel like a storm was brewing, like my entire life had led up to this moment, and I was somehow missing something huge.
Things were calm.
Too calm.
And in my line of work, calm could only mean one thing. A storm was coming… fast.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Keep your girl.
Chase
SHE YELLED HIS NAME in her sleep.
And I hated her for it.
I hated both of them.
Yet I held her close.
Because it was all I could do — hold her and kiss away the tears, hope and pray that one day the tears would turn into smiles, and that she’d see me as more than just her protector, but her friend.
Weeks were spent by her side, weeks where I fell a little more in love with her each time she managed to laugh. Hell, she was beautiful, even when she cried.
I hadn’t gotten it before — what had made Nixon so obsessed. But now I knew; it wasn’t just one thing. You couldn’t just say, “Oh, it’s because Trace is a really cool chick.”
It was everything about her.
The way she looked at life; the way she responded to the bad stuff just made you want to give her more good.
It was addicting, being with her. I felt better just walking by her side, knowing that I was going to wake up and spend my day with her. Then the moments of joy would get freaking stolen when Nixon would send me another ridiculous text about making sure she wore a sweater because it was cold out.
Really, dude?
Like I couldn’t look at my iPhone app and figure out how cold it was.
The bastard was a constant pain in my ass, a constant reminder that I was guarding treasure — but not mine.
His.
I wondered, if things were different, would I stand a chance? Little moments caused me to believe she could fall for me. She was blushing more, holding my hand more, like it was completely normal for us to be walking around campus holding hands.
The real problem was I held her hand because I couldn’t help it.
She held my hand because it made her feel safe.
Two very different reasons. Mine was obsession, plain and simple.
Hers was comfort.
Damn if that didn’t make me want to jump out her stupid window.
“Chase?” Trace kicked the leaves with her booted feet. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Sure did.”
“No, you didn’t!” She laughed, elbowing me in the ribs. ”Why aren’t you dating as much anymore?”
Oh, you know, because I’m in love with a girl who doesn’t know I exist. “Just not into it, not anymore.”
She nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer.
“You okay to go to class?”
Rolling her eyes, she leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. “Yes, I’m okay, just like yesterday I was okay, and this morning I was okay when you heard me yell from the shower.”
I burst out laughing. “One can never be sure.”
“Yeah well, you’re lucky you didn’t see me naked.”
“I think you mean unlucky.”
Blushing, she pulled her bag tighter across her body. “I’ll see you after, alright? Then you can wrap me in bubble tape and push me toward my final class of the day.”
“I love it when you talk dirty.” I smirked.
“Go away.”
“Say bubble tape again.”
“Bye, Chase.”
“Bye, muffin!” I called after her and sent my usual text to Nixon. This time it was a picture of cow going into the barn, my way of saying Trace was safe. It entertained me but pissed him off because I didn’t use words, but whatever.