Page 13

13

CHASE

Honor has been given the all-clear. We’re going home today. Though I hesitate to call it ‘home.’

Home is a relative concept. For me, it’s four walls and a bed that doesn’t murder my back. A place where I don’t have to balance half my ass on a wiry chair that looks like it’s about to crumble under the weight of its own existence, let alone mine.

One of the nurses took pity on me a few days ago and wheeled in a reclining armchair—plucked right out of the office of some hospital bigwig who’s apparently on leave.

“You look like you’ve been through the wars,” she said with a smirk as I eyed the chair like it was the Holy Grail.

Honor, though—home for her? It might as well be a word in a foreign language. Ethan and I have been chasing leads, trying to dig up a relative, any relative, but we’ve come up empty. Not that I’d let her and Laramie out of my sight anyway. Still, I want her to have someone familiar. Someone who feels like ‘home.’ And I’m pretty damn sure that’s not me. I’m the guy who’s there when all else fails.

But all else has failed. So my house it is. She’ll probably fight me on it. Honor’s got this stubborn streak a mile wide, and I can almost hear her arguing already. But there’s no other option. Not for her. Not for Laramie.

Which is why I’ve been in cahoots with my old partner, Comet, to transform my house into a baby-friendly zone. I’ve seen baby gear in passing, but ask me to assemble a crib, and I’d be more likely to end up with a trebuchet. Comet, though—he’s a dad now, and I’ve been leaning on him like a damn crutch.

On the phone, Hux’s voice crackles with amusement, “Got everything squared away. Your house looks like a Babies R Us exploded in there.”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually buy out the whole store,” I groan.

“Well, I left the stuffed giraffe aisle intact. Figured you’d draw the line somewhere,” he jokes. “But seriously, Chase—you’ve got diapers, wipes, bottles, formula, some kind of swing contraption that looks like it could double as a rocket launcher… oh, and I sent over an infant carrier to the hospital.”

“You did all that?” I rub the back of my neck. The thought of my house—my house—ready for a mom and her baby makes my throat tighten.

Hux picks up on it immediately, because of course he does. “Aw, don’t go getting all misty-eyed on me. You’ll ruin your tough-guy rep.”

“Shut up, Comet.”

“I mean it, though,” he presses. “I’ve got you, partner. Always have, always will.”

I don’t have a response to that. Not one I can say out loud, anyway. So I just mutter, “Thanks,” and end the call.

As soon as I tuck my phone back into my pocket, Honor’s door opens. A nurse steps out.

“She’s just getting ready,” she says, closing the door behind her. “Give her ten, and then you can knock.”

“Thanks, nurse,” I reply, offering a nod of appreciation.

I glance at the door, resisting the urge to hover like an overzealous bodyguard—which, let’s be honest, I’ve been these past few days. Ten minutes. I can manage giving her ten minutes of space.

Before I can overthink it, my phone buzzes again in my pocket. It’s an unknown number, but I answer anyway—Ethan’s been forwarding applicants my way for the Red Mark command center, and I’ve got a hunch this could be one of them.

“Chase speaking,” I say.

“Mr. Samson, this is Rhea Sable. I’m calling regarding the open position for the head of your command center at Red Mark.”

Straight to business. I appreciate that. “Right. Thanks for reaching out, Ms. Sable. We’ve been working on staffing the operator-level positions, but the head of the command center is a critical hire. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

And she’s off like a rocket. Words like “latency management” and “network redundancy” start flying at me. Somewhere around “pattern histogram,” I feel my brain reaching for an off switch.

“Okay,” I cut in when she pauses for a breath. “Sounds like you’ve got the tech chops we’re looking for, but I’m going to be honest—I’m not the guy to grill you on the finer points of…whatever all that was.”

“Ah,” she says, the faintest hint of nerves creeping into her otherwise confident tone.

“Tell you what,” I say. “We’ve got a woman running the command center in Helena—Cora-Lee Rancic. She’s a tech genius and one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. She’s also got this uncanny ability to take all that complicated stuff and make it, you know, human. I’d like to set up a remote interview with her so she can ask you the right questions.”

“Oh! That would be wonderful,” Rhea says. “I’ve heard of Cora-Lee. She’s a legend in tech circles.”

“She’s a legend, all right,” I mutter, smirking to myself as I dial Cora-Lee’s number on the other line.

The phone rings twice before her bright voice bursts through the line. “Chase Samson! To what do I owe the pleasure? Please tell me you’re finally fixing that embarrassing excuse for a firewall at your HQ.”

“Good to hear from you too, Cora-Lee,” I reply. “No, this isn’t about the firewall. I’ve got a candidate for the command center head position. Her name’s Rhea Sable, and she’s about to talk my ear off about ‘pattern histogram.’”

Cora-Lee laughs, a sound like pure sunshine. “Bless your heart. You sounded bored just saying it.”

“That’s my ‘I’m drowning in tech talk’ mode,” I admit. “But she seems sharp, and I figured you’d be the better person to handle this.”

“Flatterer,” she teases. “All right, fine, put me on with her. But only because you owe me. And when I say owe me, I mean chocolate. The fancy kind.”

“You know I don’t?—”

“Don’t you dare say you don’t like chocolate!” she cuts me off, mock-offended. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold, Samson.”

I snort. “You’ve got a reputation, all right. Okay, I’ll send her your way. And thanks, Cora-Lee. Really.”

“Don’t worry, Chase Bear. I’ve got this. You go do your brooding, Double-O-Seven thing. Leave the tech to me.”

The call with Cora-Lee ends, leaving me with a faint grin and the feeling that she could sell a digital cloud to a rainstorm. For now, I’m back to waiting.

It’s been more than ten minutes. I knock on the door lightly. No answer. I wait, knock again, louder this time. Still nothing. Concern shoots through me, and I push the door open quietly.

What I see stops me in my tracks. Honor is fully dressed and ready to leave, but she’s sprawled on the hospital bed, clutching a pocket mirror in her hand, as if sleep had claimed her mid-makeup. She didn’t even have the chance to conceal the exhaustion etched across her face. And yet, she’s mesmerizing.

I take a step closer, the sound of her slow, steady breathing a stark contrast to the frantic rhythm pounding in my chest. My gaze lingers on her lips, and an uninvited thought sneaks in. Dare I imagine stealing a kiss? Just one.

Heaven, if you’re taking requests, I’ve got a major one here.

But I already know the answer. I turn to the cot, where Laramie sleeps peacefully, curled up like the tiniest angel.

Knowing they’re both okay, I step away. They need this. Going home can wait. Sleep is more important right now.

I start to turn for the door when Honor stirs. Her eyelids flutter, and her voice comes out hushed and groggy, “Chase?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I reply, stepping back to the bedside.

She pushes herself up on one elbow, blinking at me. “Sorry. How did I…?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say gently. “You needed it.”

“I’m ready to go,” she insists, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She reaches for Laramie and pulls her from the cot, and I’m quick to notice her slight wobble. Before I can think, I step in. “Here, let me,” I say, my voice softer.

Honor hesitates before passing Laramie to me.

The tiny weight settles into my arms, so light it feels unreal. She’s impossibly small, barely bigger than my hand. For a moment, I don’t breathe. My calloused fingers seem clumsy against something so fragile.

“I’m not going to crush her,” I say, more to calm myself than anything else.

Honor surprises me with a smile. “I know you won’t.” Her voice holds something new—trust. Not the tentative kind born of survival, but something deeper.

“Let’s put her here,” she says, gesturing to a pink infant carrier decorated with butterflies. She glances my way. “Thanks for this.”

“It was my colleague,” I admit. “He’s an experienced dad.”

“Ah, I see. Looks like I’m in capable company.”

“You could say that.”

Our eyes meet, and for once, I don’t look away. There’s something familiar there, a thread I can’t quite place.

“Here, let me,” she says, taking Laramie back and settling her into the carrier. With one swift motion, she lifts it. “I’m ready.”

I grab her bag, my hand brushing hers briefly. She sways again, just enough for me to notice. I reach out instinctively, but then I hesitate, withdrawing before touching her.

She catches the motion. “It’s fine,” she says. “You can hold me.”

It’s a simple statement, but it stops me cold. I wrap my arm around her waist, steadying her as we leave the hospital.

For most guys, falling for a woman usually starts with her looks. Guilty as charged—I’ve ticked that box. Then there’s vulnerability, and yeah, that’s hitting hard right now. She’s a fighter, no question, but after childbirth? It’s like seeing a whole new side of her strength—one that makes me want to shield her from anything that could hurt her. Not because she needs it, but because she’s already given so much of herself.

But honestly, it’s more than that with her. It’s her grit, the way she doesn’t let anything break her, and somehow still lets me in after the rocky way we started. There’s nothing that gets to me more than a tough woman showing just a little softness, like it’s something she doesn’t give to anyone else. That’s what’s different with Honor—it’s not just what I see, it’s what she makes me want to be for her.

Honor breaks the silence first. “I’ve been thinking,” she starts, “I can stay at a motel in Belgrade for a couple of days before making another move. The last place Damon will think to look is a tiny motel?—”

“Not gonna happen,” I cut in before she can finish.

“Chase, I’m not staying with you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“You are,” I reply. I’m not usually the kind to impose, especially not on women, but this isn’t a matter of preference. It’s survival. “This is life and death, Honor. I’m not rolling the dice.”

She doesn’t back down. “I’ll disappear, not hide. Motel for a couple of days, then I’ll pick up Oakley, and we’ll go far. No one will find us.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head harder than I mean to. “That’s not a plan, Honor. That’s running blind.”

“It’s my plan,” she snaps, her voice rising. “I’ve been keeping us alive so far, haven’t I?”

“And you shouldn’t have had to,” I reply, my voice softening but not losing its edge. “You’ve been running on empty, fighting on your own. Let me help. Let me protect you.”

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s going to argue again. But then her shoulders sag slightly, and she exhales a shaky breath. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because I do,” I say simply. “And I’m not letting you or Laramie out of my sight until I know you’re safe.”

The fight leaves her eyes, and she nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll come with you.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

I help her settle into the backseat and secure the carrier. Her gaze lingers on me as I close the door, enough to make me do a double take.

Why does she feel so familiar?

* * *

Stepping into the house feels different this time. I’ve walked through this door many times, boots against the wide-plank hickory floors, thoughts too clouded to notice the glow of natural light bouncing off the stone accents. But now, with Honor and Laramie here, it feels… alive. Like the place finally has a purpose. And it’s not just a house anymore—it’s something closer to home.

As I set Honor’s bag down, I glance at her. She’s holding Laramie, her eyes darting around the room like she’s waiting for a catch. I don’t push her with words, just gesture for her to follow.

I guide her down the hall to the room I’ve set up for them. Pausing at the door, I push it open and step aside. “This is yours,” I say simply.

Honor steps inside and freezes. Her eyes widen as she takes in the room—the cot, the baby supplies stacked neatly on the dresser, the fluffy, pastel-colored blanket draped over the back of a rocking chair.

“This… this is for us?” she whispers.

Honestly, I’m just as floored as she is. Hux really went above and beyond, delivering more than I ever expected.

“Yeah,” I reply. “I can’t take credit for it, though. My partner from Helena did all this. I know nothing about babies or nurseries.”

“Your partner is in Helena?” she asks, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“My former partner,” I clarify quickly.

“Oh, I see. You’re lucky she’s on friendly terms with you,” she says, giving me a knowing smile.

It takes me a second to catch on, and when I do, I nearly choke on air. “Oh! No, no, not like that! I mean my Red Mark partner. The one who sent the baby carrier.”

“Oh, your colleague .”

Did I call Hux that? Sometimes I do when the moment calls for simplicity. I can’t remember, but I answer, “Yeah,” anyway.

Then I add, “And it’s not a she—it’s a guy. Huxley Cometti. A former SEAL. Burly dude, knows his way around a crib apparently.”

Honor’s cheeks flush a deep pink, and she immediately looks down, embarrassed. “Oh. Sorry. I presumed…”

“It’s okay,” I say, trying to hold back a grin. “Easy mistake. For the record, though, Ethan’s my official partner now. But at Red Mark, once you’re paired with someone, you’re partners for life. It’s like an unspoken rule.”

She nods slowly, still not meeting my eyes. Then, suddenly, a laugh bubbles out of her. “I mean, now that I’m picturing a big, burly guy setting up a nursery, I feel like I owe him an apology.”

I chuckle, finally relaxing a little. “I’m sure he’d appreciate it. He’s probably still wiping baby powder off his shirt.”

Honor smiles, looking back at the room, her gaze lingering on the cot. “This… it’s beautiful, Chase. Thank you. Really.”

I shrug, aiming for casual. “You won’t get this deal at a motel.”

She shoots me a mock glare, the kind that makes the corners of her mouth twitch upward despite herself. And there it is—the sweetness I’ve always imagined was there but never quite surfaced. It’s the kind of moment I’d bottle up if I could.

Huckleberry.

Yeah, she’s a Huckleberry, no doubt about it. But the thought I can’t shake is this: will she be my Huckleberry?

Honor lays Laramie in the cot, her fingers brushing over the llama blanket—Oakley’s thoughtful gift for his baby sister. The way she moves, so careful and tender, sends a tight pull through my chest. She lingers, her eyes resting on Laramie with a quiet intensity, before finally stepping back and meeting my gaze, waiting expectantly.

“All right, tour time,” I say, motioning for her to follow.

We start in the kitchen. “It’s nothing fancy,” I tell her, opening the fridge, “but it’s stocked.” Shelves are packed with fresh produce, snacks, and enough ingredients to cook a dozen meals.

Honor peers inside, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Do you always keep this much food around?”

“No,” I admit. “I had help.” I don’t mention Hux again, but the ghost of his voice telling me to “buy the damn baby snacks” echoes in my head.

I lead her through the rest of the house, stopping at my home gym. Honor steps inside and freezes, her gaze sweeping over the weights, the squat rack, and the neatly arranged kettlebells. “You lift those things?” she asks, pointing to the barbell loaded with plates.

I smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe. “You’re surprised?”

Her eyes narrow playfully. “You sure you’re not compensating for something?”

I bark out a laugh. “You think I bought a full gym setup to make up for something? These arms aren’t just for show.” I tap my ceps, earning a roll of her eyes.

We move on to the next room—a small but sleek setup I call the wellness room. Honor steps inside, taking in the state-of-the-art air purifier humming in the corner.

“And this?” she asks, folding her arms. “What is this, a pure oxygen room? What’s next, cryotherapy?”

I chuckle. “Hey, don’t knock it. Some people swear by it. Good air is good living.”

Her eyebrow arches. “You mean rich people swear by it.”

“Touché,” I concede, grinning. “But if you want to test it, I could seal the door and let you compare the difference.”

She snorts. “I’m not falling for your placebo tactics, Chase.”

“Placebo?” I say, feigning offense. “This is cutting-edge stuff. Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who thinks essential oils cure everything.”

“No, I’m not.”

Not the answer I was expecting, but then I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s not any woman.

After a few awkward seconds, we both laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls, making the house feel fuller.

Back in the living room, Honor sinks onto the couch, looking relaxed for the first time since I met her. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I glance at the screen. “It’s Oakley,” I say, holding it out to her.

Her face lights up, and it’s like watching the sunrise. She snatches the phone eagerly. “Oakley? Oh my God, hi!”

I step back, giving her space, but her joy is impossible to ignore. She’s animated, her voice light and full of life as she talks to Oakley, filling him in on how she and Laramie are doing. The way her eyes shine, the way she leans into the call—it’s a different side of her. One that’s not weighed down by fear or exhaustion.

This moment—this feeling—it’s good. Beautiful, even. Maybe home isn’t a place. Maybe it’s them.