Page 37 of Playing with Forever (Players Club Sinners #1)
Chase
D amn it. I’d hoped to be finished before she left work for the day.
I stared at Andrea, who stared back at me like she was seriously considering hitting me over the head with her purse. I’d planned to ask Ford or Tate to pick Andrea up from work and take her back to the townhouse she shared with Violet, avoiding her altogether.
I should’ve known she’d find a way to fuck with my plans.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Andrea demanded. She dropped her purse on the floor and strode over to where I was standing next to her luggage, glaring at me.
I saw the anger blazing in her expression but it was the hurt that sliced me deeper than a knife, when that’s what I was trying to avoid. Hurting her. “I’ve packed your things so they can go back to your house with you.”
“Excuse me?” Her eyes flashed with fire. “And you were just going to, what, let me figure it out when you changed the damn locks?”
Everything inside me was twisting with emotions I wasn’t used to, but I managed to remain calm. “I was going to have one of my coworkers pick you up and take you home and explain.”
“Wow.” Andrea folded her arms across her chest. “I know you’re a lot of things, Chase, but I never thought you would be a fucking coward.”
Inwardly, I flinched at the accusation. The awful part was, I couldn’t even deny her claim. The truth was, I couldn’t handle facing her after what happened last night.
It wasn’t just the humiliation and embarrassment at what she’d witnessed.
It wasn’t even the night terror itself, though that had been mortifying enough.
It had been the fact that I’d been so entrenched in the nightmare, my entire body forced to relive that horrific night I’d lost men, and it wasn’t the first time this had happened.
I’d been so rooted in those terrifying memories, unable to escape, thrashing at unknown forces, a prisoner in my own body.
I’d knocked a lamp to the floor, and I easily could have hurt Andrea.
Not just in the throes of the nightmare itself, but there had been times when I’d woken up from one of these episodes, fists flying, or my hands wrapping tight around a pillow when in my dream it had been the enemy’s neck I’d been strangling.
There was no goddamn way I was ever going to take that risk with Andrea.
I thought it would be fine as long as I didn’t let her get too close—but she had. I’d let her into my life bit by bit without even realizing what was happening until it was too late. And now, she’d seen the ugly, terrifying parts that had forced me to keep her at arm’s length in the first place.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I should’ve known better. I never should have let her share the bed with me.
I should have kept her in the guest bedroom.
I shouldn’t have let my guard down with her.
Now, she knew—she had seen how fucking broken I was, and it couldn’t be undone.
All that I could do was make sure I put distance between us before I did something worse, like hurt her the next time the night terrors came.
I’d seen how scared she’d been last night, even if she’d tried to hide it for my sake.
Andrea was stubborn and defiant, and I knew she wouldn’t ever admit she feared me or what had happened.
That fierce pride was what made her my darling brat when we played.
But I’d seen the truth in her eyes…she’d been fucking terrified of me.
She had a right to be. She had no idea how bad it could really get. The thought of harming her in any way made me want to throw up, paralyzed me in a way almost nothing else did.
When I was awake, I was in control, for the most part.
Even when I had a panic attack, I knew that it was just the trauma, even if knowing that didn’t get my body to cooperate or calm down.
But when I was asleep, it was all real to me.
Blood in my mouth. Sand in my nose. In my lungs.
Fighting the enemy with the intent to kill.
“Chase.” Andrea dropped her arms, softening. “Talk to me. Please. Let me be there for you.”
As if there was anything she could do. Any way that she could mend what was shattered when she deserved a man who was whole and untouched by those lurking demons.
This wasn’t like a piece of broken furniture she could repair.
Human beings didn’t work like that. Scar tissue and horrific memories didn’t just go away.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I said, hating my cold tone of voice, but knew it was necessary. “Please pack up the last of your things in the bathroom. I’ll arrange for Ford to pick you up and take you back to your place.”
“Are you kidding me?” she said heatedly.
“Chase, I’m worried about you. What, you’re allowed to freak out over me when something happens, but I can’t do the same?
You can’t even let me in a little bit when you’ve taken over my entire life?
You made me move in with you. You won’t let me drive myself to and from work. But I see you have a nightmare—”
“I said we’re not talking about this,” I cut her off, bristling. “And a nightmare is not the same thing as someone fucking stalking you.”
No, it was just my bullshit, my trauma, and I had to deal with it.
My life wasn’t in active danger like hers was.
In fact, part of the problem was that my threat wasn’t tangible, but I couldn’t seem to convince my brain of that once it shut down for the night.
A part of me was stuck, forever, in that world of death and loss.
But Andrea’s life was in real time jeopardy. Not the same thing at all.
“If my life is in danger, then you kicking me out because you’re having some kind of crisis isn’t a way to keep me safe, now is it?” Andrea’s tone clearly indicated she thought she’d put me into checkmate.
“I have an entire security firm full of men at my disposal, who owe me big-time for favors I’ve done for them,” I reminded her. “I’ve arranged a security detail for you. 24-hour surveillance and an escort to and from work.”
“I don’t give a crap about a security detail! I don’t want your random buddies, I want you!” Her voice cracked under the weight of anger and something worse. Desperation. “I care about you—”
“Well, you shouldn’t.” The words came out too fast. Too sharp.
She blinked at me, stunned. “Oh, so you’re allowed to care about me but—”
“I don’t,” I snapped coldly. It was a lie. A vicious, necessary one.
Her expression splintered, like I’d just taken a hammer to the fragile trust we’d built. Her mouth parted slightly, but no sound came out. Just disbelief shimmering in her eyes. Grief.
Inside, I was crumbling. My lungs were tight, like I couldn’t get enough air. My heart thudded so violently I could hear it echo in my ears. I wanted to take it all back, to gather her into my arms and hold her until the pain I’d just inflicted went away, for both of us.
But I didn’t move because I knew I couldn’t give her what she needed. I wasn’t the man she deserved. Not with the shit I carried. She wasn’t going to be safe as long as she was with me, not emotionally and perhaps not even physically.
“Don’t say that,” Andrea whispered in an aching tone. “I know it’s not true.”
It wasn’t true. Not even close. I cared so goddamn much that it scared the shit out of me.
Loving her…it had started to feel inevitable.
And that was exactly why I had to cut this off now.
Before I failed her in a way I couldn’t undo.
Before she saw the darkest corners of me that I couldn’t even look at in the mirror.
“I’m sorry you’ve fallen for the belief that you’re more to me than you are, but what you are, is my sub,” I said, forcing myself to sever the relationship, for her own good.
“Which you shouldn’t be anymore. You know enough by now to go have fun on your own.
I was giving you an education, remember? That was it.”
God, it felt like I was driving knives under my fingernails to say such cruel things to her, things that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Andrea stared at me, bottom lip trembling, and the look on her face…it wasn’t just pain. It was betrayal, vulnerable and raw.
I’d never hated myself more.
I wanted to reach for her, fall to my knees, beg her to see the truth, that I was doing this to protect her, not because I didn’t care about her.
But I clenched my jaw, locking myself down, because the hardest thing I would ever do was let her go.
For her. For both of us. Because if I didn’t, I was afraid she’d be the one I broke next.
Without another word, Andrea went to the bathroom and packed up her remaining toiletries. She shoved them into the luggage and zipped it up. Then, she glanced up at me, her chin high, defiance blazing in her eyes as if she refused to let me see her fall apart.
“Fuck you, Chase,” she snapped. “Seriously, fuck you.”
She stormed out, leaving me alone with the wreckage I’d caused and the silence that felt a hell of a lot like guilt and self-loathing.