Page 67 of Mended Fences

The thought brought an unexpected wave of guilt. Here I was, not even divorced yet, fooling around with Chase on my empty cottage floor while my medical textbooks sat unpacked in their boxes. Was I being reckless? Irresponsible?

Chase returned with paper towels and a warm, damp dishcloth.

“What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain?” he asked softly, noticing my expression. His thumb traced circles on my wrist, sending little jolts up my arm.

I opened my mouth to deflect, to give him some light response about unpacking or breakfast plans. But something in his eyes—that same intensity I’d seen earlier—made me want to be honest.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“Of me?”

I shrugged.

He fixed me with the most serious expression I’d ever seen cross his handsome face.

“You never need to be afraid of me, Elena. I would die before I hurt you.”

The sincerity in his words sucked the air straight from my lungs.

“I know this thing between us started strange, and you’ve still got some shit to work though, but hear me,” he said, staring directly into my eyes. “I amyours. Do you understand what that means?”

Did I understand? Not really. I’d spent years being controlled by a man I wasn’t sure ever loved me—at least not inany way that didn’t serve him. Peter’s love had been about possession, performance, control. Chase’s words didn’t feel like a trap or a demand. They felt…like a gift. And I didn’t know what to do with that.

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t think I do.”

I hated the smallness of my voice, the aching vulnerability. What was it about this man that made my walls crumble and my emotions pour out?

“Well, then let me lay it out for you, Sweetness,” he said.

Before I could process what was happening, he gathered me into his lap, and the warmth of his body enveloped me. Part of me wanted to pull away, to remember the rules I’d set for myself, but another part craved this connection.

“Here’s the thing about me—when I’m in, I’m all in. No half measures.” He traced gentle patterns on my arm, and I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. There was something comforting in the way he held me.

“Baby, I’ve been yours since that first night at Callaghan’s when you called me pretty.” The memory flashed in my mind, and my cheeks heated. How absurd that a simple drunk comment could spark something so fierce and complicated.

“I don’t care about your baggage or your scars. I’ll spend every day showing you what real love feels like. Not that twisted shit he called love.” His jaw clenched, and I understood that his anger at Peter mirrored my own.

Whatdidreal love feel like? Could I even allow myself to imagine it?

“I want to wake up to your bedhead and morning grumpiness. Watch you stress-clean when work gets rough.Kiss every inch of you until you believe how fucking perfect you are.”

His words resonated within me, stirring something long buried. I wanted to believe him, but the weight of my experiences with Peter loomed large.

“Chase...” My voice was barely a whisper, a warning and an invitation all at once.

“I know you’re scared. But I’ve got you. And I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave.” He brushed his lips across my temple, and warmth spread through me, battling the cold anxiety gripping my chest.

Even if I told him to go, would I really want him to? The thought of him camping out on my porch like a lovesick idiot made me smile despite the chaos swirling in my mind.

He paused, looking deeply into my eyes, and for a moment, I felt seen. “I’ll be anything you need, Elena.”

There it was—the promise of something new, something good. My heart raced at the prospect. But could I trust it? For now, all I could do was hold on and hope and trust the fierce look in his eyes as he doubled down on his oath.

“Anything.”

Chapter Twenty-One

CHASE