Wild Harts: Rockstar Shifters Box Set

by Lily Cahill

  And he did. The apology tumbled out of him, raw and somewhat unfinished, but the sincerity was there. Chase grabbed Bret and Jax into a hug that he felt all the way to his battered soul.

  These were his brothers, and they loved him. He didn’t want to let them down again.

  He pulled away and stared at the way Tiff and Jax found each other—even focused on Chase, their hands clasped together. They were each other’s lifeline, their rock. Before, Chase had sneered at the idea of them being fated, with no choice but to be together, whether happy or not. But now …. Now he saw their relationship for what it was. Their love was eternal, complete, without doubt or misgivings.

  Chase envied them. He wanted that for himself. He wanted Emily.

  Tiff reached an arm out and laid a warm hand on Chase. “You must be hungry,” she said. “Come on, I’ve made enough food for all my boys.”

  “Tiff,” Chase said, extracting himself from his brothers to catch up to Tiff.

  She looked over her shoulder and slowed a second for Chase to fall into step beside her. “It’s going to hurt like this until you go to her.”

  “Emily,” Chase said. For the first time in weeks, he found he could say her name without pain.

  “She deserves the truth.”

  “How long have you known she’s my mate?”

  Tiff smiled. “Since that first night. Jax knows too. But we didn’t want to press it.”

  Chase groaned. “God, I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”

  “Calling her a priss probably didn’t help,” Tiff said with a sly grin. “She cares for you, Chase, maybe even loves you despite how hard you’ve made it. But you need to show her what she really means to you.”

  Chase nodded, determination crowding out any final lingering doubts. He hadn’t done right by Emily, and she’d suffered because of his own misguided certainty that he could deny his mate. Emily made him want to be a better man, made him happy and fulfilled. And he would do everything possible for the rest of his life to prove to Emily that he deserved her love.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emily

  EMILY LEFT SUNDAY BRUNCH AT her parent’s sprawling Central Park West apartment more than an hour early. It was not even noon, and her mother had already clocked out, her eyes glassy and her laugh too manic.

  Emily’s mother was tiny, but at fifty, that smallness was turning to something dry and brittle, like her bones were hollowed out and her blond bobbed hair was threatening to crumble. Emily’s father, for his part, willfully overlooked his wife’s decades of eating disorders and addictions. Or maybe it was just that he was never home to truly notice.

  Most Sundays, Emily could put on a smile and pretend these brunches made her happy, but not today.

  Days like this, her body and mind itched with discomfort. Everything about her parents’ existence—and by extension, Emily’s—sat uneasily in her stomach.

  Why did they stay in a situation that clearly made them both unhappy? When had it become more important to them to maintain the lie than walk away to start fresh? And worst of all, was Emily headed for the same fate?

  If she really thought about it, she and Asher had been broken for a while. It seemed that only momentum was keeping them together. They moved in the same circles, attended the same fundraisers and galas. To most, they were an eventuality.

  But Emily didn’t want her life to be an eventuality, something in which she sat back and just let it happen. Chase’s words, no matter how they’d hurt, came back to her that Sunday as she restlessly paced her parents’ breakfast room with a coffee in her hands.

  She was a tourist in her own life.

  Emily set the mug down harder than she’d intended. Her father’s head snapped up from his phone. Her mother’s attention only wandered to her long seconds later, like she was on a delay.

  “I’m going,” Emily announced.

  “But Lucille hasn’t even brought in the bloodies,” her father said with a curious tilt of his head.

  “I can’t do this anymore, Daddy.”

  Emily was half-way to the door when her father stopped her. “Emily, is this about your brownstone? I know you made a big fuss about securing it on your own, but you just don’t understand New York real estate like I do.”

  Emily reeled back, her throat going dry. She’d been so proud of negotiating the purchase of her apartment. “Daddy, what did you do?”

  Her father waved his hand through the air, like he was wiping away her concern. “Sweetie, did you really think you could just waltz onto the real estate scene and snap up a property like that? Don’t be naïve. I made a generous donation to the seller’s child’s school in their name and connected their agent with a very lucrative client.”

  Emily struggled to speak around her tongue. Her hands trembled with impotent rage. “Daddy,” she started. She had to stop and take a breath. “Dad, I asked you not to interfere.”

  Her father scoffed. “Interfere? Emily, I helped you just like any other father would help their child.”

  “No, Dad. You inserted yourself into my life when I’d expressly asked you to let me do this on my own. It’s just like school all over again.”

  Her father’s brown eyes—Emily’s brown eyes—went hard, like she imagined they did when he reprimanded one of his employees. “Emily St. Clair, using your advantages is a part of being an adult. You are fortunate enough to have a brilliant future ahead of you because of me, so don’t be ridiculous and throw that away.”

  Emily’s lungs deflated. “I just,” she said, her voice small. “I want to prove I can do this, that I’m more than just your last name and your money.”

  Her father smiled kindly and placed a warm hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Don’t you think you’ve proven yourself? You secured Asher Longchamp, someone who is poised to become very powerful and benefit us all.”

  Emily’s mouth fell open, and she stumbled backward. She left without a word, too stunned to speak.

  Was that all she was worth to her father? An approved match that would better position her father in New York society? It was absurd to think of her happiness like that, like a commodity to be traded.

  After fleeing the apartment, Emily started walking. She’d been walking aimlessly for what felt like hours, when Emily looked up and realized she was at an entrance to the High Line. She climbed the stairs to the old elevated train track and wandered along the landscaped walkway.

  New York was beautiful from this angle, with the Hudson River to her west and the sun making the red brick buildings glow. Emily settled into a bench surrounded by greenery and watched the sun arc overhead, her mind a million miles away.

  All her life, she’d done exactly what was expected of her, exactly what would make others happy. But what about herself? What would make her happy?

  Chase.

  She had to stop thinking of him. It was over, and that was for the best, really. They were from different worlds—the gulf between the lives they led was too wide to ever bridge. Emily’s heart stuttered at the thought of it—a life without Chase—but the heartache would heal. Someday. Someday, she’d get over him, even if that day felt impossibly far away.

  Right now, though, the ache was raw. Chase infuriated her and challenged her and made her brain spark and come alive. And that was nothing compared to what he could do to her body. She wanted to be with him because he looked at her and saw … just Emily. Not her money or connections, but the woman she was.

  He’d never be hers, not with the way they’d ended things. Emily had spent the better part of two weeks speaking only to Drew to help communicate publicity events, like the underground show she’d coordinated in Brooklyn in four nights time or the six-page interview and spread she’d secured in Glamour for Jax and Tiff. Working on publicity for Wild Harts made her happy and feel accomplished, because they were hers, just hers.

  Emily didn’t know what she’d do in the future, but one thing became clear as she sat in the city she loved and watched the world a
round her. She was going to do it for her own happiness, not others’ expectations. And that started with ending things with Asher.

  Five years together, and Emily had never dressed down around Asher. Even when she went for a run or to the gym, she’d come home to shower and change before going anywhere with him.

  Today, Emily left yoga and went straight to a coffee shop to meet Asher. Her hair was secured under a headband and pulled into a ponytail, and she didn’t have a lick of makeup on her face. And she felt luminous. She felt powerful and certain in her decision.

  If she could take one truly good thing from the little time she’d had with Chase, it was this: She should never settle. In her aspirations, in her love life, settling for “just okay” wasn’t good enough. Emily deserved to be with someone who made her feel the way Chase did. It was clear—if she was truthful, it’d been clear for a long time—that Asher was not that man. With the help of Chase, Emily was determined to never live a life without passion again.

  But first, she had to do the right thing by Asher. Emily took a deep breath outside the door, then tugged it open.

  Asher glanced up when Emily walked in and could barely conceal his look of disgust.

  “God, Em, are you on the rag or something? That ratty old sweatshirt is just the worst.”

  Emily plopped down into her chair and picked at her beloved Harvard hoodie. She’d bought it her first day of freshman year and never wanted to part with it.

  “I just came from yoga, Ash,” Emily said with a roll of her eyes.

  “I’ve seen plenty of women come from yoga. They don’t look like that.” He practically curled his lip as he said it, and his tone just steeled Emily’s resolve.

  “Right, well, you just made my job easier.”

  Asher took a sip of his drink—Emily guessed it was an Americano with an extra shot, like always—and blinked slowly at Emily. “At least one of us is trying to be a good partner. I mean, honestly, Em. I’ve never—”

  “I’m breaking up with you,” Emily interrupted.

  Asher set his drink down and sat back, his body tense. “Excuse me?”

  “We’re not happy, Ash. I can’t think of a good reason why we’re still together. So, I think we should break up. No, not I think. I know.”

  Spots of red were appearing in Asher’s cheeks, and his fingers clenched at the edge of the table. “You can’t break up with me. Think of what people will say.”

  Emily laughed harshly. “That’s your concern? Gossip? Not ‘I love you, Emily. Please don’t go?’”

  “I’m not sentimental, Em,” Asher scoffed.

  That was an understatement. “You’re not anything when it comes to this relationship, Asher. You’re just … checked out. I don’t want checked out. I want passion or a connection or … or God, something.”

  Asher’s flushed cheeks had turned cold, his eyelids gone heavy and his mouth twisted with derision. “You think you can do better than me? You think anyone will want you? You’re making a big mistake, Emily.”

  Emily stood quickly, her chair scraping back. She felt eyes on her, people straining to hear, but she didn’t care. And God, it was freeing.

  “I know I can do better than you. The truth is …,” Emily steeled her nerve. She had to do this, wipe the slate clean. “The truth is, I cheated on you. I felt awful about it, but not now. Now, I’m thankful for how it opened my eyes. I refuse to settle when it comes to my heart. I deserve real, deep love, and I know I’ll find it. You think I’m making a mistake? My only mistake was not doing this years ago, Asher.”

  Emily paused outside the entrance to the annual Caritas Music Gala and readjusted her pearl necklace. She smoothed her hands down her royal blue, sequined gown and tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach.

  She’d never attended one of these events solo. She’d either been on the arm of Asher or accompanying her parents. But tonight, she was walking in as a single woman.

  The idea both thrilled and intimidated her. At the moment, Emily didn’t know which emotion would win the night. But there was no way to find out without walking through these doors.

  With her head held high, Emily slipped past the arched doorway and into the gala. Music and bodies swirled around her, white-gloved waiters weaving through it all in an intricate dance of society. It seemed to ebb and flow in time to the orchestra performing on the raised stage at one end of the old theater space.

  Emily snatched a glass of sparkling wine off a passing tray to keep her hands busy and delved deeper into the space. Around her, men and women nodded at her or smiled. A few rushed over to her and, after a few minutes of polite chit-chat, asked if it was true: Had she really dumped Asher Longchamp? Emily tried to stay gracious and say nothing bad about Asher, but inside she longed for the questions to end.

  And they did, but for an even worse possibility: Asher himself spotted Emily through the crowd and made his way over … with a statuesque blond on his arm. Emily’s nerves withered on the vine, and it took every bit of etiquette and breeding to stop her from spinning on her red-soled stiletto and fleeing. This was a mistake. Why had she thought she could attend this gala without it being excruciatingly awful?

  She wrenched her lips into a smile and clutched at the stem of her wineglass.

  “Hello, Asher,” she managed.

  Asher was dressed in an expertly tailored tuxedo, his dark hair styled to perfection and his hands manicured. “Emily,” he said, his voice just a bit too unctuous. His tone alone reminded Emily why she’d broken things off with him. She’d never be truly fulfilled with him. Never.

  Asher tugged his date around to show her off, and Emily made sure her smile never faltered. “You remember Everly from school? She was a year behind us.”

  “Yes, Everly, how are you?”

  God, had he advertised for the newer model to Emily? She was taller than Emily, blonder, with larger breasts and a trendier name.

  “Hey,” Everly said, bored out of her mind, apparently. Suddenly, her eyes flicked behind Emily and her face lit up. “Oh my God, Asher, is that …?”

  Emily frowned and noticed thunder rolling across Asher’s face. Behind them, someone cleared his throat. Emily turned and gasped.

  It was Chase.

  Emily couldn’t breathe. How was he here? Why was he here? Her heart drummed wildly in her chest, hope sneaking into the space left by nerves.

  She’d been so certain she’d never see him again. She’d been prepared for that, resigned to a life without him. Now that he was here, everything in her yearned for this man, to feel his touch against her skin, to kiss him until the end of time … and then kiss him some more.

  “Chase, what are you …?”

  Everly practically shoved Emily aside and thrust her hand out at Chase. “Mr. Hart! Everly Angel. I’m a huge fan.”

  Behind them, an older man craned to get a look at Chase. “Is that man from Wolfram & Hart? I really should introduce myself.”

  Chase ignored the interest suddenly swirling around them and only had eyes for Emily. “Ms. St. Clair, dance with me?”

  Goose bumps thrilled over Emily’s skin and she found she could only nod. Her smile was too big for words. With Asher and Everly staring daggers at them, Chase reached for Emily’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. Emily sighed with the completeness of it. With Chase here, she felt complete. And undone at the same time.

  Emily let her hand settle against Chase’s arm, where it belonged, and peeked up at him. He looked divine. Emily swallowed back the tightness in her throat and let herself take him in.

  His beard was trimmed and smooth, and in this light Emily could see hints of auburn threading through the dark brown bristles. He’d taken out his piercings and dressed in a three-piece suit that fit his large, powerful frame beautifully. The dark cloth was a rich gray and tailored to him, showing off his broad shoulders, trim waist, and long, impressive legs. He was even wearing a subtle plaid tie and a coordinated pocket square.

  Emily
didn’t know where this Chase had been hiding, but he made her core ripple with pleasure.

  The crowd parted for them, whispers drifting in their wake as people recognized Chase Hart leading Emily St. Clair to the dance floor. The orchestra dipped and soared in an achingly beautiful song, and Chase pulled Emily close. He held one arm up to take hers and snaked the other around her back. Where their hands were joined, Emily saw his bright tattoos peeking out of the cuff. It made her smile to see the wild Chase she knew so well was still here after all. He was the man she loved, after all.

  Emily gasped faintly. Loved? She’d known from that first kiss that she was falling for him, but in love? She’d spent so much time trying to convince herself she and Chase had no possible future that love seemed impossible. But as she’d thought it, it made sense. It felt true. As true as the way they fit together, as the way they completed each other.

  They danced slowly, languidly, their bodies moving in tandem. Emily breathed in the clean scent of Chase and memorized every angle of his face. If she never felt this way again, she wanted to remember how perfect life could be, if only for a moment.

  One song faded to another, and they danced on, the world forgotten.

  Emily peered up at Chase and smiled. “You clean up nicely, Mr. Hart.”

  Chase’s smile warmed her to the core. It set her body on fire in a way it hadn’t been since she’d left him at the cabin in Maine. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  Emily blushed. She did love this dress. The sequined bright blue set off the warm tones in her blond hair and the flush of her pale skin. It was cut daringly low in the front—there was at least one good part about having small breasts—but had modest, elbow-length sleeves. It fell to the floor in a narrow column, playing up the hourglass of her narrow waist and generous, full hips, with a high slit up the back.

  “Em,” Chase said, his voice deep and soft, intimate. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you left. I was such an idiot, the things I said to you.”