Maybe the joke covers the heave of my chest. Maybe. I ignore the reach of Chase’s hands, instead stumbling toward my suitcase. The sponsor paid for a nice room in a nice hotel, but this isn’t Chase’s penthouse suite. The double is small, and a mess: my stuff is thrown everywhere. We can’t all be Mr. Neat.
“Brooke,” Chase says from behind me.
I grab my jeans from the chair, throwing them toward my suitcase like it’s Trent’s head. “He is such an asshole. Such a fucking … motherfucker.”
I can feel Chase walking toward me, but I don’t look back at him. With a rough swipe I collect my makeup from the vanity, twisting to dump the bottles and tubes into my bag. “The way he looks at you and smiles and … Like he did with Mom. Like he did with all the other girls he was fucking while he said he loved her.”
“Brooke.”
Chase’s hand brushes over my shoulder blades and I jerk away like I’ve been shocked. My ribs jerk over a sob. He can’t see me like this. Not so pathetic and hurt. I grit my jaw and blink furiously, ducking past Chase without looking so that I can grab the clothes tossed over my bed. I try to hide the rub of my hand over my cheek, brushing away shameful tears.
Breathe, Brooke. Breathe.
“You could turn on the TV.” I know I’m babbling. My hands fumble over the dresses I spent hours trying on with Alex last night, all the rejects for the awards ceremony. “Just give me five minutes. I’ll be—I’ll be—”
Fine, I want to say, but I have to clamp my mouth shut over a sob. My eyes squeeze tight shut, trying to keep the tears inside.
Chase’s arms loop around me from behind. His solid muscle is gentle as it wraps about my torso, and I don’t know if he’s holding me back or holding me up against the shattering waves of my tears.
At my neck his voice is rough with desperation. “Talk to me, Brooke.”
I wriggle in trapped misery, trying to keep my tear-streaked face away. “I’m fine. I’m just so—so—angry.” But the words are a pathetic sob, a twist of hurt aching in my stomach.
Chase’s nose bumps against my jaw, his hold tightening. “You don’t have to lock me out,” he whispers.
I don’t want to. I want him here. I want him close. I want him to tell me it will all be okay.
But I’ve spent so long building up these defenses. I don’t want him to see how pathetic I am. How weak. I want him to see the strong Brooke he knows. The one he fell in love with. Because why would he want me like this? When I’m a hurting, stupid mess.
Chase doesn’t fight against my undignified wriggle. I catch a glimpse of his face: the hard line of his jaw, the worry furrowed over his forehead.
I want to stroke it away with my fingers. I want to kiss the thin line of his lips and take away their sadness.
But if I stop moving, I’ll break.
In the bathroom my hips knock hard against the washstand, my toe stubbing on the tub in my agitated rush. “Fuck him.” I try to make the words strong with anger rather than weak with hurt. “I’ve never met an asshole like that before. And I’m related to him. I’m half of him. I’m”—a sound catches in my throat—“I’m his daughter.”
In the mirror I can see Chase come to stand in the doorway behind me. At his sides his fingers twitch over the suppressed urge to reach out.
I can’t stop these stupid tears. They burn in my eyes. They escape with every blink of my lashes. I’m so ashamed.
“I hate him,” I choke as I throw my things into my wash bag. “I hate him. How can I be so fucking stupid? I’m so dumb. So dumb. I’m so—”
I can’t hold it in anymore. This aching in my chest won’t go away. It’s stronger than my speech. It’s stronger than my movement. It cracks me in half, bending me over the washstand with my hands braced to the ceramic. My stomach crunches over all the noises I don’t want to make. The strange echo of my sobs over the tiles sounds like failure.
From the corner of my eye I see Chase slipping in beside me, sliding to sit at the edge of the bath tub. It only makes me cry harder. I hate to have him see me like this, so weak and stupid.
This time I don’t have any strength to fight his reach. His hand cups at my cheek, the sweep of his thumb catching my tears as he nudges my face toward his with a gentle, undeniable pressure.
Through the glistening of my tears I can see the hurt in his twisted mouth, and the ache in those bright blue eyes.
“Do you know why I didn’t want you to come film in Bella Coola?” he asks, his voice low and soft.
The words are so unexpected that they hitch my tears. I shake my head.
Chase’s eyes dip to follow the stroke of his thumb over my lip. “When you’re a teenager, you think you’ll live forever. That’s when Hanne and JJ made their decision to ride in the backcountry. When we were immortal.” His smile is sad. “But by the time I met you, I knew what the mountains could really do.”
I haven’t stopped crying, but my sobs are softer now. They hiccup in my chest. I couldn’t look away from Chase if I tried, enraptured by the slow sweep of his eyes over me. He doesn’t seem to see my blotchy eyes or my damp nose. He just looks, wonderingly, as if I’m still beautiful.
“I fell for you so hard. I know I was an ass.” His grin twists a fraction wider, his eyes remaining fixed to the stroke of his thumb. “But I looked at you, and … I’d never felt that before. What I felt when I was with you.” A breath rolls through the broad sweep of his shoulders as he gathers himself. “I liked you, and you liked this insane thing that gets people killed, and I couldn’t deal with it. Even when I realized I couldn’t live with not seeing you again, I was still such a mess. Not wanting you to go away. Not wanting you to come along and get hurt. Because if you did, it would be my fault. And I couldn’t deal with the idea of failing you. Like I’ve failed everyone.”
My sobs have quieted, and in the chill of the bathroom my shallow breaths heave.
“So I pretended I didn’t care.” A flicker of pain twitches over Chase’s mouth. He looks like he wants to stop talking, but still he forces the words out, struggling under the weight of all this honesty. “I pretended I was just the same as always. That meeting you hadn’t changed every fucking thing about my life. Everything I knew about myself. Because when I saw you ride, and when I sat and watched the mountains with you …”
When Chase drags his eyes up to meet mine, their blue is full and aching. He forces himself to look at me steadily, sharing all of himself with me. “You made me want to be someone I hadn’t been before. Someone better. You made me want to be the kind of man who would deserve you.”
Even a shallow breath burns in my lungs. I try to breathe deep enough to speak. I really do. But it doesn’t work. I’m too raw, too exposed, the dying sobs still shivering silent over my ribs.
I could look at Chase’s face forever. Those bright eyes. That dark stubble. The flop of his hair.
“I want to protect you, Brooke,” Chase says. He shakes his head, his free hand coming to catch my wrist, his fingers stroking tender at my pulse. “Not from the things you love. Not even if they scare the shit out of me. I want to protect you from the things that frighten you. The things that hurt you.”
I’m falling into him, inch by inch, the soft vulnerability of my body leaning toward his.
Chase’s exhale is deliberate, slow. A gathering of strength so that he can look at me with his jaw set, determined. “I want to be the man who makes you feel safe. I know I’ve fucked up in the past. I know I hurt you. But now … I’m trying so hard to be that man for you.”
Chase leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine, and finally his eyes close as if this is too much. Too much honesty. Too much hope. “I don’t want to lie anymore. I don’t want to hide. We’ve done so much of that.”
When his eyes open again I can see his yearning. All his fear of failure. All his guilt. All his desperate hope.
“It’s always been you, Brooke,” he whispers. “Only you. Don’t lock me out. Let me protect you.” His t
ongue slides over his lips. “Trust me.”
Trust him.
How many people have I ever really, truly trusted? It’s gone so wrong before. Trent. Peter. I’ve loved, and I’ve been hurt.
But Chase …
He’s always protected me. From the drunken guy in Laax. From Trent. He gave me the avalanche bag, and when it saved my life he held my unconscious body and screamed my name.
He’s not perfect. He’s been such an ass, sometimes. But he’s always cared about me. He’s always noticed me.
To Chase, I’ve always meant something.
After all this time, I finally realize that I don’t have to decide to trust Chase. I already do. I just need to be honest, and let my heart do what it was made for.
When I collapse Chase catches me. He pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms tight about me as if I’m infinitely precious. Something he could never stand to lose. In the safety of his embrace I let it all come out. The tears. The pain. The hurt. I sob against him, curling my fingers into his T-shirt, and Chase doesn’t let me go.
“I will never let anyone hurt you.” The words are rough and raw. Chase tilts my face to kiss my tears, each press of his lips a fierce and savage vow. “I promise you, Brooke. I’m not leaving you. I’m not letting you down. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
Chase lifts me up effortlessly when he stands. I’m so small in his arms. So vulnerable. Not because of my size. Because I’m crying—because I’m hurting—and the no-nonsense, in-control Brooke I’ve used as a shield for so long has fallen away.
The emotional armor is gone, and I’m more naked than I’ve ever been as I trust in the strength of Chase’s arms. Beneath my ear his heart is a promise beating on and on.
The bed is still covered in rejected dresses. It doesn’t matter. Chase lays me down gently on top of them, and I pull him after me. I need to touch him. I need to feel him. I need to be closer than close. I wrap my arms around him and never want to let go.
Our kiss is flavored with my tears, but they don’t taste of salt. They taste of honesty.
Chase only gives in to my mouth for a moment. A tensing of his muscles raises his body from mine, his look fraught with concern. I can see how much he wants me, and how much he wants not to hurt me.
“Brooke …”
This time I don’t try to hide my face. I let Chase see my blotchy eyes and my tear-wet cheeks. I let him see all of me.
“Please,” I whisper, swallowing to find a stronger voice. At his sides my fingers squeeze tighter, refusing to let go. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
A sound rolls deep in Chase’s throat, and when his mouth finds mine again his kiss is a promise.
There’s nowhere left to hide. All of our defenses have been stripped away, leaving Chase and I raw in the silence. My tears dry, but my breath is still aching in my chest. Like I’ve walked into a space I’ve visited so many times before, and only just realized that it’s sacred.
We undress each other slowly, taking our time to savor the kisses that speak a thousand words. I arch my back so that Chase can pull my sundress away. He rocks back onto his knees to pull his T-shirt off before he falls back to kiss me again.
We’ve been naked together so many times before, and yet it’s never been quite like this.
Chase braces himself on his elbow to stroke between my legs, and against the press of my cheek he whispers my name. It’s a recognition. A vow. A golden thread I hold onto as, trembling, I come apart beneath his touch.
We’ve had plenty of sex. It’s always been good. But this isn’t lust and hormones. It’s something deeper. As Chase slides between my legs he catches my cheek in his hand, holding my gaze to his. I shiver at the intensity of our shared look. Just us. No lies. No hiding.
Chase and I. Here. Now. Together.
I moan as Chase sinks into me, and he licks at the tremble of my lips.
“I’ve got you.” His words are half a kiss. “Promise.”
Finally, I let myself trust him.
35
Sometimes it takes years for us to change. We build defenses around ourselves, putting brick after brick in a wall around our hearts. We weave a web of lies that hides who we really are. It takes time to create that armor.
But when we meet the right person—the one who makes us realize what we’re missing, and what we need—we can change so much faster.
The walls that took years to build come tumbling down in months.
I stand in JJ’s kitchen, looking out into the Wyoming darkness, and think of how far I’ve come. It’s only been two weeks since Miami. Since Chase rolled over in bed our final night and said: What do you think about my place for a bit? Since I waved goodbye to Mom and Pop-pop at the airport, leaving them to go to Mammoth while I went on an adventure.
I came for Chase. I couldn’t bear to let him go after just one weekend. We spent so many months being stupid. I wanted to make up for all that time we lost.
I was so caught up in him that for a moment I forgot who else lived in Jackson’s Hole. Now I listen to Chase and JJ chatting in the next room, and my heart swells with happiness. Their laughter spreads warmth over my chest.
“These are the last ones.”
I look over to see Hanne padding into the kitchen, too many plates balanced precariously in her arms. As I rush over to help her with them our hands brush, and I think how good it is to be here again with my friends. My crew.
“Thanks.” Hanne beams once she’s relieved of some of her load, leading the way over to the still-open dishwasher and beginning to stack it. “I think they’ll fit …”
They do, somehow. Once they’re stacked Hanne reaches past me for the soap, flicking the tap on with a tilt of her wrist.
“JJ’s still spouting the same bullshit about Raquel,” she says in a conspiratorial tone, rolling her eyes to show what she thinks of that. “I’m worried that he thinks we actually believe it.”
I laugh, leaning back against the counter to look at her. “About her just living here?”
Hanne shakes her head in disbelief as she lathers up her hands. “At least she’s out tonight. It’s even worse when they’re both in the house. JJ insisting he can’t kick her out. Raquel insisting she’s just playing nurse. They’re even worse than you and Chase, and that’s saying something.” Her smile is affectionate, one of her elbows winging out to delicately nudge my ribs.
I tilt my head. In the two days of Hanne’s visit Chase and I have been over twice, and Raquel’s been carefully out each time. “You think …?”
Hanne snorts, shimmying her hands under the water before flicking it off and reaching for a towel. “I mean, it’s true that JJ can’t kick her out. This is her house, too. And it’s true that Raquel’s taking care of him. But they want us to believe that’s all that’s going on?” She snorts. “They’re crazy for each other. Always have been. They’ll work it out eventually. And little Jaquels will be back on the table.”
Little Jaquels. The thought makes me smile. There’s still so much to worry about with JJ. Still so many answers that we don’t have. But I remember what he said to me that night in Bella Coola, and I know that nothing would make him happier than the pitter-patter of those tiny feet.
I don’t need to have met Raquel. I saw the way JJ looked at her photo that night. I saw her face when she waited outside his hospital room.
“It would be good for him to have her back,” I say.
Hanne hums before turning her face to me, her smile wide. “It would be. Like it’s been good for Chase.”
I don’t know what to do with my blush.
“I mean it,” Hanne insists. “You two are sickeningly cute.” She mimes throwing up before giving me a squeeze. “And I love every bit of it. Come on.”
The boys are standing when we get back into the main room. I pause for a moment, trying to frame this image in my mind: Chase and JJ, together again, everything forgiven. Chase’s arm is wrapped about JJ’s shoulder. Together they’
re laughing over some joke.
There are still so many questions hanging over JJ. We don’t know how much he’ll be able to do in the future. He’s already beaten all of the worst prognoses. But there’s still so much to come. There’s so much terrifying distance between walking and riding.
But he’s standing, and he’s whole, and he turns the same golden beam to me that he had that first day in Laax all those months ago. In the glow of his happiness I see proof that even the worst things can heal.
“Is Hanne pushing you out already?” JJ squeezes me into a bear hug, his grip just as strong as it’s always been. When he releases me he gives me a look that tries to be earnest, but there’s too much happiness peeking at the edges. “Make that man of yours come back tomorrow, yeah? I need someone to do all these doctor-ordered walks with me. It’s boring as shit.”
I laugh, flicking my eyes to catch Chase’s grin. “I’ll try.”
We’re only leaving them for the night, but still I sneak a look back over my shoulder before they can close the front door: Hanne and JJ, smiling and whole, haloed by the light behind them.
Love glows inside of me, a happiness so pure that I can taste it.
Chase slings his arm around me, tucking me into his side as we fall into step beside each other. In the silence of the Wyoming night all I can hear is the soft of his breathing and the tap of his shoes over the tarmac. It’s dark on this remote residential road, but I don’t care. With Chase beside me, I don’t feel afraid of anything at all.
“You have a good night?”
I look up to his face and smile. “The best.”
Chase grins, dipping to press a kiss to my hair. “Good.”
When we’re quiet now, it’s not because we’re afraid to say things. It’s because we’ve already said them all. The truths continue, endless, through every moment. We don’t always need to put them into words. I love you can be said with our mouths. But it doesn’t have to be. It’s here in the wrap of Chase’s arm about me. In the tuck of my fingers into the back pocket of his jeans. In the way our steps fit perfectly together, as alone in the darkness we walk home.
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