Page 72 of Mended Fences

“Elena...” Her name came out like a plea.

“Just sleep, Chase.” The exhaustion in her voice cut deep. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

But we both knew morning would only bring harsh light to the mess I’d made of everything. I pressed my face into the pillow, trying to steady my racing thoughts, my pounding heart. The coke wouldn’t let me sleep, but maybe if I lay here quietly enough, she’d forget I was the kind of man who’d risk ruining the best thing in his life over a few cruel words and some white powder.

Chapter Twenty-Two

ELENA

Then, July 2024

“So,care to tell me what’s going on with you and my brother-in-law?”

I froze with my wine glass halfway to my lips. We were curled up on opposite ends of my new cozy couch, the afternoon sun streaming through the cottage windows I still hadn’t hung curtains on.

This conversation was inevitable. Honestly, I was surprised I’d been able to dodge it this long. My best friend was no dummy, and she certainly didn’t have a problem prying.

Since Peter, she’d respected my boundaries. I was still healing, and she understood. But watching her now, the way she picked at a loose thread on my throw pillow while trying to keep her expression neutral, I knew my time was up.

“Must I?” I pulled my knees closer to my chest, creating a physical barrier between us.

“You must.” Tessa’s tone was gentle but firm.

I sighed, shrugged, and told her the truth. “I’m in love with him.”

“You’re what?” Tessa shrieked, nearly spilling her wine as she sat up straight. “WithChase?”

A fierce wave of protectiveness rolled through me, hot and immediate. Images flashed through my mind—Chase’s gentle hands as he taught me to snowboard, his concerned eyes when he found my bruises, the way he held me through nightmares without asking questions.

“Yes, withChase. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snapped, setting my glass down so hard on the coffee table that wine sloshed over the rim.

Tessa’s brows shot up as she proceeded cautiously, tone softening ever so slightly. She leaned forward, placing her own glass beside mine. “I mean, he’s Chase… Class clown, black sheep, fuckboy extraordinaire…”

My fingers dug into the couch cushions. Her words felt like an attack, not just on Chase but on my ability to make decisions about my own life. Hadn’t I proven I could recognize danger now? The old Elena—Peter’s Elena—would have swallowed her anger, would have nodded and agreed just to keep the peace.

But I wasn’t that woman anymore.

She didn’t know Chase the way I did. She didn’t know about the way he read medical journals just to understand my work better, or how he showed up with soup when I had a cold, or the careful way he was rebuilding his life.

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

“I’ve known him a lot longer than you have, Lane. And I’m married to literally his identical twin, so... feels like I’ve got a pretty good read.” She gestured emphatically, the sunlight catching her wedding ring—a reminder of her connection to Chase’s family.

I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at my best friend. The tension in the room felt foreign, wrong. Weneverfought. You’d think two strong-willed women would go at it frequently, but not us.

“I’m just worried about you, okay? This is a pretty dramatic rebound.” Tessa scooted closer on the couch, reaching for my hand.

Just like that, I moved right past annoyed and into pissed off. I jerked my hand away, standing up to put distance between us. “He’s not a rebound, Tessa!”

“Then explain it to me, Elena!” She stood, too, following me as I paced toward the kitchen. “Because from where I’m sitting, he’s taking advantage of a shitty situation and preying on your emotions, and I don’t fucking like it. He’s got a drinking problem, and probably drugs, too. He isnotwhat you need in your life right now!”

My skin felt too tight, like I might burst out of it at any moment. The familiar urge to apologize, to smooth things over, rose in my throat—a leftover habit from years of walking on eggshells. But underneath that was something new: rage. Not at Tessa, not really, but at everyone who looked at Chase and saw only his mistakes. At everyone who thought they knew better than me what I needed. At myself for still questioning whether I deserved something good.

“Stop acting like you know what’s best for me! I have lived through hell and survived just fine without you!”

It was a low blow, and horror washed over me as I watched my words hit their mark. She flinched back like I’d slapped her, all the color draining from her face. The afternoon sun caught the tears welling in her eyes.

This was exactly what Peter used to do—use people’s love against them, weaponize their biggest fears. I’d promised myself I’d never become him, never use words as weapons. But here I was, hurting the one person who’d tried to save me, just because she dared to care about me.