Chasin's Surrender (Gemini Group Book 5)

by Riley Edwards

  Hours and hours of silence.

  Genevieve hadn’t uttered a goddamn word.

  Not since she wailed Holden’s name. Not even when they’d gotten to the hospital and Chasin had finally taken her into the bathroom and washed her up. He’d changed her blood-soaked clothes and she didn’t speak a single word.

  All he could do was hold her as they sat in a private waiting room waiting to get the word about Holden. It didn’t look good. He’d lost a shit ton of blood.

  Christ, he’d never forget hearing Genevieve screaming at Bent. He could live to be a hundred and five and never would the words: Do it, Bent, pull the trigger. You’re gonna do it anyway. There’s not a damn thing I can say that will stop you. I hate you. Leave his mind.

  Pull the trigger.

  Fucking shit.

  Two seconds—that’s all he’d had to spare. All it would’ve taken was two more seconds and Genevieve would’ve been dead.

  Gone.

  Lost to him forever.

  He shoved those thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the silent woman on his lap. She was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. Macy had been up a few minutes ago to give Evie an update on Bobby and she’d barely blinked as Macy told her once the CT results were back and there were no issues, she’d be released.

  Genevieve still hadn’t rallied. The only reason Chasin knew she heard was because tears leaked from her eyes. Christ, so many tears. He had no idea someone could shed so many fucking tears.

  Chasin lifted his chin off Evie’s head and glanced around the room. Nixon had his arm around McKenna and he knew she was crying again. Nix looked ready to murder someone. Jameson didn’t look any better, even with Kennedy slowly stroking his arm, offering her man comfort. Weston and Silver were the only ones standing—over by the window, removed as far as they could be in the small room. She was tucked to his front, face in his neck, and his arms were around her.

  Alec and Macy were with Bobby, and so was Jonny.

  Vaughn had briefly come to the hospital, mainly to check on Holden but also to tell Chasin he’d hold off the police as long as he could. Which was to say, twenty-four hours, tops. There were cameras set up outside, but none in the house, and McKenna had already forwarded the footage to the police. Jonny had also been less than five feet behind him when he’d snapped Bent’s neck. He felt not a single ounce of remorse ending that fucker’s life.

  He felt he was within his rights, but couldn’t bring himself to spare a bit of worry over the legalities of what he’d done. Not when Genevieve was hurting.

  His gaze fell to the woman in his arms and his heart ached.

  “Evie, baby,” he called.

  Nothing.

  “You’re scaring me. Please say something.”

  Silence.

  “Please, Evie. You gotta give me something. I’m dying, baby. We’re gonna get you through this. I promise. Swear it, Evie. I love you so damn much. Please say something.”

  More silence.

  His eyes closed and the day replayed.

  From making love to her. Breathing in her shampoo. Evie telling him to take her money. Melting away his insecurities. To her declaring her love. All shots to his dying heart.

  You give me everything I need, every time I need it.

  Fuck.

  The day kept flashing behind his lids; fear clear as day when they’d stumbled onto the blood in the woods. He’d tried to shield it from her but she saw. And finally, the last time he’d heard her voice over the phone. Tight with worry.

  I trust you.

  Moments flickered, bits and pieces of her melodious voice flitted in his head. Fucking hell, he needed her.

  Then finally, fucking finally, something. The fiercest squeeze of her hand.

  Thank God.

  “Thank you, baby,” he croaked. “I love you, Evie.”

  It wouldn’t be for another hour before the door flung open and bounced off the wall, nearly smacking the frantic woman who’d flung it open in the face. Nix, Weston, and Jameson all stood but Chasin sat frozen with a motionless Genevieve in his arms.

  The woman looked different, but the same. A little older, she wore her hair longer, and the little girl who stood next to her was much older than the last time he saw her.

  Christ.

  Charleigh Towler.

  “Any word?” Charleigh asked, and looked at Nixon.

  “Charleigh, honey, why don’t you come in and you and Faith have a seat?” Nix responded.

  Clearly, Nix had called her because he didn’t look the least bit surprised she’d rolled through the door like a hurricane, towing Faith.

  “Just tell me, Nixon.”

  “Last update was an hour ago. They’re doing what they can.”

  Genevieve whimpered and Chasin lost sight of Charleigh’s frown when he looked down at Evie.

  His ass had long ago gone numb, his arms ached from holding her, and his back was killing him from sitting in the hospital chair for so long. But his physical pain was nothing compared to hearing Evie’s anguish.

  “He’s gonna be okay, baby,” Chasin said, even if he wasn’t sure.

  It’d been too long.

  Chasin sat quietly and watched as the guys greeted Charleigh and Faith and introduced them to the women. But Chasin’s eyes remained on the little girl. There wasn’t a single trace of Paul in her. From top-to-toe, the girl was her mother. Thick brown hair, deep brown eyes, tanned complexion. Paul had had fair skin, blond hair, and blue eyes.

  The door opened again, interrupting Chasin’s musings, and in walked an older man in scrubs.

  “Holden Stanford’s family?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” Nixon answered and stepped forward. McKenna fit herself under her husband’s arm just in case it was bad news and he needed her. She wouldn’t be far.

  “He’s in recovery—”

  “Thank God,” Genevieve sobbed. “Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God.”

  Jesus fuck.

  Finally.

  34

  Seven months later

  We’ve had a long row to hoe.

  I had nightmares. Chasin had demons. Holden had a gunshot wound. Bobby had healing to do.

  But we’d done it, and we came out on the other side stronger than ever. All of us did. Not just me and Chasin, but everyone had rallied. Everyone had closed ranks and helped.

  My luck had certainly changed when I met Chasin.

  There wasn’t a day that went by I didn’t talk to one of the girls, most days multiple times. Not a week had gone by when we all didn’t get together. And two months ago, McKenna had declared that Sunday night was family night and everyone was to sit down for dinner together. She did that as a way to get everybody to Chasin’s and my house.

  You see, for three months, we stayed at my uncle’s house because Chasin wouldn’t entertain the idea of us going back to the farm. He didn’t want to be in the room where he thought he was going to lose both me and Holden. I’d talked to my therapist about this and he agreed that I needed to face the farm. Chasin wouldn’t hear of it, until I’d convinced him to come to a therapy session. Then he understood and agreed.

  The first time we went in, I freaked the hell out and Chasin carried me back to his Charger and we went back to my uncle’s house. A few days later, we went back and Chasin stood in the very spot where he’d ended Bent’s life. After a solid five minutes of him statue-still, frozen in place, I guided him out and we went home. The third time, he held me while I cried. Not because Bent was dead, Holden almost died, or because I had a gun pointed at my head and blood leaking between my fingers.

  I sobbed my relief.

  It was over.

  McKenna had told me that Chasin purchased the farm from Nixon, and she told me he’d bought it because I wanted to convert the milking parlor and barn into a studio. But, I didn’t think that was why. Chasin loved the farm. Loved that Nixon and Weston’s property bordered the land and he liked them close. But also because the
farm was where we’d started our lives together. Sure, we’d fallen in love at my uncle’s, but the farm was where that love grew.

  Without Chasin knowing I knew, I went to Nixon and asked him if he was okay with me gutting the farmhouse. Nix might have sold the farm to Chasin, but the farmhouse was special; Nix had grown up in that house, and I didn’t want to do anything that would hurt him.

  Then I talked to Holden. I was close to all the guys, but I was closest to Holden. He’d saved my life, and in return, I’d attempted to save him. Neither of us could forget that and neither of us wanted to. I told Holden my idea and he thought it was a good one and agreed to help. He also didn’t miss the opportunity to point out, I was exactly what Chasin needed, and he’d known it all along. Which meant for three months, he oversaw the renovation of the farmhouse and the barns.

  I didn’t have to worry about Chasin finding out because he was staying clear of the property.

  When the reno was done, with Nixon, Jameson, Weston, Alec and Holden tagging along, I took Chasin to the house. I asked the girls not to come because I didn’t know what Chasin’s reaction was going to be and I didn’t want him to feel like he needed to hide what he was feeling in front of my girls.

  I hadn’t touched the outside of the house, so when we’d first pulled up and he saw everyone standing in the yard, he was confused. Then he’d thought I’d arranged some sort of intervention to get him to deal with his thoughts on the farm. Which I kind of had—a very expensive, exhausting intervention in the form of a renovation. But I wanted to live in that house. I didn’t want anything to stop us from doing what we wanted.

  No one had seen the inside except for Holden. To say they were shocked by the transformation was an understatement. I’d gutted the house down to the studs. There wasn’t even a single sheet of original drywall left.

  It was stunning. From the new hardwood floor, new kitchen, bathrooms, freshly painted walls—floor to ceiling, it was beautiful. What it wasn’t was over-the-top or ostentatious. It was a family home with comfy, welcoming furniture. The only thing I’d splurged on was a handcrafted, custom-made dining room table. It was awesome. It was also huge. And Nixon and McKenna didn’t know it at the time, but I’d had one made for them as well. When Nix had run his hand over the smooth finish of the table, I couldn’t wait to tell him what he was touching. That the planks were from his father’s barn. The contractors removed a wall when my studio was being built and I’d come up with the idea to repurpose the wood—but I couldn’t, seeing as it would ruin my other surprise. The studio was finished.

  Before I’d had a chance to show Chasin the upstairs, he pulled me into his arms, and in front of his whole team, he laid a hot, heavy, and very wet kiss on me.

  All he muttered was, “Okay, Evie.” Which meant we were moving back into the farmhouse. Later that night when we were in our bed, in our newish home, he showed me how much he loved what I’d done.

  That was awesome, too.

  Then I’d decided it was time to share the last thing I’d kept from him, and lying in his arms in our new home, on the first night seemed like the perfect time. I’d pulled the letter I’d written to myself out of the nightstand and handed it to him. It’d taken him longer to unfold the worn paper than it took him to read the note.

  If this isn’t the dream, find a new one.

  That was it, nine words, permission to myself to quit if the music industry wasn’t all I’d dreamed it to be. If I didn’t find the happiness I was after, it was okay to give it up.

  Then life was just life. And for the last two months, we’ve been living in the farmhouse and I’ve been working in my studio. Bobby had an office on the bottom floor, something we added that hadn’t been in our original vision but necessary since she now handled—well, everything. She was my right-hand woman, just like she’d always been, but more.

  After everything that had happened, Leslie didn’t want to lose me as a client but she knew I was edging to drop my label. In a weird twist, she sat down with the guys and explained why she’d given her brother a job. It wasn’t because she’d condoned what he’d done, or was trying to cover it up—she gave him work so he’d stay on a righteous path and she could watch over him. She loved her brother, even if he’d done wrong.

  She’d convinced Chasin she was on the up and up, so she left the label and came to work for me. That is, she ran my label. In doing so, she took a pay cut, because I wasn’t about making money off the backs of up-and-coming artists, I was about giving them a leg up, therefore my cut of their royalties was substantially less than what others took.

  And, by the way, Melissa and Len had slunk away. Or more like, my attorneys had threatened a huge lawsuit if they even uttered my name. But the point was, they were gone.

  “Whatcha doing, baby?” Chasin asked, and swept my hair off my neck.

  His cold lips hit my neck and I shivered. Not because their coolness surprised me—the late-fall evening was chilly—but because I shivered anytime he kissed me. That hadn’t changed and I suspected it never would.

  “Getting Rory more hot chocolate,” I answered.

  That was something else we’d changed. The bar in the studio was rad. There were three taps behind the bar, rows of liquor, mixers, all the normal stuff, but also plenty of stuff for the kids to drink—soda, every juice box flavor imaginable, and now that the weather was cooling down, we’d added hot chocolate.

  “Nixon and Micky are getting ready to leave,” he told me.

  That made me smile.

  “I’m glad they stopped by and brought Holly.”

  The day Holly had come into the world was a day I’d never forget. The one and only time I’d ever seen Nixon Swagger crack. It was sweet. He was a baby hog but that was a whole ’nother story.

  “I’ll grab Rory’s drink,” Chasin told me, and picked up the warm mug I’d prepared.

  With his free hand, he grabbed mine, and together we walked out into the chilly night. The vision that hit me was exactly what I’d dreamed it would be, only better.

  Chasin had built us a huge firepit. Macy’s best friend’s husband, Rob, had made ten kickass log benches that now sat surrounding the roaring fire. There were also a few Adirondack chairs we hauled out when the crowd was too large for just the benches. And that happened a lot. Sometimes the whole family got together and we needed the extra seating, but also when the bands my label produced were sitting out there unwinding after spending the day in the studio.

  As I said, it was awesome.

  Perfect.

  Just as I’d dreamed—but better.

  My eyes scanned the area, looking for McKenna and Nix. I did this slowly, so I could take it all in. Weston and Silver were huddled talking to Jameson and Kennedy. My girl Kennedy had a secret, one that was going to make her new husband very happy. They’d gotten married in the back field. A place that Kennedy had told me was sacred, the same place that Nixon had married McKenna. The place where I hoped one day I’d marry Chasin.

  Macy and Alec were talking to Becky and Rob. Two more awesome people I considered close friends. Bobby was laughing at something either Jonny or Holden had said, though I assumed Jonny because Holden was shooting daggers at Charleigh’s back as she wrangled Faith, Becky and Rob’s boys, and Caleb. Jocelyn and Rory were in Bobby’s house—which was just across the barnyard. We’d converted an old shed into a badass space for her and Holden had moved the Airstream—since the firepit was now in the spot where he used to park it—over to the side of Bobby’s place.

  Those two bickered like brother and sister. They were a riot, and if I didn’t know that Bobby only had eyes for the broody Jonny, I’d think something was going on between them. Alas, there wasn’t. But something was going on between Holden and Charleigh.

  I knew the story. Holden told me all of it from start to finish, and I think I’m the only one who knew how much seeing Charleigh and Faith gutted him. My heart hurt for both of them. Seriously, the story was not only sad, but full of guilt.<
br />
  I hated that Holden was in pain, and when Charleigh packed up and moved up to Maryland from Virginia, his pain intensified tenfold. Partly because Charleigh was around a lot. But more, Faith was, and it was Faith’s existence that hurt Holden the worst and remained the source of most of his guilt. I got it, one-hundred percent understood why seeing the little girl would hurt so bad. After all, she was the reason Charleigh had married Paul. Not that you could blame the cute little girl, I loved her to pieces. But to Holden, she was something else. And he couldn’t get over it. He loved Charleigh. She was it for him, his one and only. And he couldn’t have her unless he found a way past his hurt.

  “Babe, Rory’s at Bobby’s if you wanna take that to her,” I told Chasin.

  “Sure thing. But don’t start without me.”

  “Never,” I whispered, and rolled to my toes to give him a kiss.

  “Will you play “You Can’t See?”” Zack asked Genevieve.

  “After she plays “Landslide,”” Mandy demanded.

  Chasin’s gaze slid from Micky’s siblings to his woman. She’d been playing for the last hour; he knew she was done, but she wouldn’t say no. She never did—not with the people she loved. Evie gave and gave to her family.

  Incidentally, Chasin learned to like country music. No, he loved Vivi Rush’s style of country music and liked the music her artists made. But he still preferred rock.

  “I’ll do both.”

  Chasin settled back into the deep Adirondack chair. Rory had shifted so she could look at him. She’d snuck out of Bobby’s house as soon as her sister had fallen asleep and she heard the first strums of Evie’s guitar. Rory Hall loved to hear Evie sing.

  “Uncle Chasin?”

  “Yes, my sweet Rory?”

  “When are you gonna marry Aunt Evie so I can be a flower girl again?”

  Chasin’s lips twitched.

  “Do you have your dress picked out?” he asked.

  “No, silly, Mommy says the bride picks the dress.”

  “Right.”

  “So? When are you gonna marry her so I can be your flower girl?”