CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
The final countdown
Chase
Every person has a moment where time stands still.
I'd just experienced mine. The funny part? I'd almost missed it. It had been such a foreign feeling that I'd passed it off as having low blood sugar — being lethargic.
Legs heavy, breathing labored, I walked across campus toward my car.
The wind picked up, and a few leaves danced around the grass, swirling at my feet. I looked up.
She was walking toward me.
My heart slammed in my chest.
How was it possible that a person's mere presence could render me speechless?
Trace was wearing the boots I'd gotten her. She pulled her black leather jacket tight around her body and continued walking.
Where the hell was her security? I'd left her in Nixon's very capable hands for the past hour. And now she was alone.
"Hey," I called out, my voice low, hoarse.
"Hey."
Her smile lit up my world, just like everything else she did. I felt calm around her — like a cloud of peace had descended on the war raging inside of me.
Visions of betrayal danced in my head as I watched her breathe in and out, having no idea that just the fact that she was breathing in the same air I was… was pushing me over the edge, making me want to choose. Making me want to force her to choose.
Not that she had any idea there was a choice in the first place.
That was the part that sucked. She didn't know. She had no freaking idea that I was a man obsessed, deranged, sick for her.
"Where's Nixon?" I asked calmly.
"Oh he's picking me up in a few minutes." She rolled her eyes. "I had to go grab more comfortable shoes anyway."
"Are you saying my boots suck?" I pretended to be offended and offered her my arm.
Rolling her eyes, she looped her arm within mine and laughed. "No. Your boots rock. Come on, they're original Wyns!"
"Are you mocking me?"
"Depends. You in a teasing mood, or did you just get done shooting someone?"
I laughed. "Yes… and yes."
"Yes and yes?"
"I'm in a teasing mood." I tilted my head toward her and winked. "And I didn't just get done shooting someone, but it's entirely possible a knife was involved, lots of blood, boy violence, making a grown man cry — you know, a typical day in the life of Chase."
"Well…" She sighed. "…at least you aren't making girls cry."
"Aw, honey, if they're crying, I can guarantee it's not because they're sad."
"Fear?" she guessed.
"Pleasure," I whispered, overstepping my boundaries. Scratch that — freaking jumping over the boundary and pulling her closer to my body so that we shared the same heat.
Her eyebrows shot up. "If Nixon see's you, he's going to threaten you again."
"Let me handle Nixon." All teasing had left my voice.
The smile fell from Trace's face. "Are you okay?"
No. I wasn't okay. I was in pain. My heart cracked against my chest, hurting like hell. "I'm always okay," I lied.
"Chase…" Trace reached out and cupped my cheek.
Her fingers scalded me — changed me from the inside out.
"…is it getting too hard for you? To be my personal bodyguard? Nixon said something about—"
Her voice died off.
"What did the boss say?" I wrapped my arm around her and forced a smile.
"That you…" She shook her head. "You know what? Never mind. We're friends, right?"
"The best of…" Another lie.
"Good." She let out a sigh. "Promise me something?"
"Anything."
"Don't ever leave without saying goodbye."
"Who says I'm leaving?" I stopped walking again and pulled her closer to me.
"It's just…" Her eyes focused on the ground as she shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just get this weird feeling when I'm around you, like you're five seconds away from losing it or just… leaving."
I loved her.
I loved her.
I loved her.
I wondered how long I could hold it back before I ruined everything — before she was finally able to put the pieces of my giant-ass puzzle together.
"I'm not a jackass, Trace. I would never leave you defenseless, let alone without saying goodbye."
She exhaled. "Good."
"So what are you and Nixon gonna do?"
"It's a surprise." Her face lit up. "But I have a sneaking suspicion it has to do with self-defense, especially after the whole fiasco last week."
The fiasco, meaning her grandfather going into hiding and she having to move into Nixon's house of horrors.
"Ah, I see." Because, I really did.
"Anyway, it will be good to have some time alone."
"Yeah." I sighed.
Trace twirled a piece of hair around her finger, and that's when the second part of the moment happened, where I let my imagination run rampant with hope.
I spent more time with her than he did.
I loved her more. She just didn't know it.
I could protect her.
I could save her.
And in return — she'd save me.
Right? Isn't that how love worked?
She bit down on her bottom lip as she looked up at the dorm and put her hands on her hips.
I wondered if Nixon knew that was the stance she took when she was feeling lazy and not wanting to go up the stairs.
I wondered if he knew that every time she nibbled her lower lip it meant she was thinking.
I wondered if he was aware that Trace hated chipmunks but loved squirrels, or that she thought the color yellow was irritating, or that rain made her happy.
These were the things I knew — I knew them by heart just like I knew her scent, her favorite things. And I hated that, even though he knew less, he owned her in a way I probably never would.
"Well, I better go change." Trace interrupted my thoughts. "Thanks, Chase."
The slow-motion thing happened again — the moment I didn't pull back as she stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on my cheek.
A half inch. And our lips would have been touching.
I closed my eyes as her mouth lingered on my hot skin.
When she pulled back, I almost cursed Nixon to hell and pushed her up against the brick wall.
Instead, I let the moment pass.
The second moment.
The second moment in my time with Trace that I should have done something different.
As I walked away I realized that was all I'd been doing with her, walking in the opposite direction.
But things were about to change.
Because next time. I'd take full advantage, and Nixon would just have to fight. I'd make him fight, because I was tired of allowing him to win on default.
No more moments would pass — I wouldn't let them.
If he wanted her, he was going to have to prove he loved her more than life itself — because I already knew I did.
ALSO FROM RACHEL VAN DYKEN