Chapter 24

All he wanted to do was dance with Piper and every damn person in the room wanted to talk to him.

One minute Chase was hugging her, savoring the feel of her . . . and the next, a nameless person was commanding his attention.

When he turned away, Piper was walking toward the ladies’ room.

Finally, he caught sight of her standing with Alex.

At first glance, everything looked fine.

Then she was gone, and Alex was making a direct line in his direction.

The couple that had stopped him, names he would never remember, left off midsentence when Alex hurried to his side.

“Hello,” Alex said with a smile. “I have to pull him away. My apologies.”

An alarm in Chase’s head went off.

They stepped aside.

“What?”

“It’s Piper.”

His head shot up, eyes roaming the room with her name. “What?”

“She’s on her way out.”

“Why?”

“I’ll explain later. Go.”

He turned to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Alex’s voice was weak.

It was never weak.

Chase hesitated, saw the pain in his sister’s eyes.

He leaned forward, kissed her cheek, and ignored everyone on his way to the front door.

He found her standing just inside the venue’s door, her head buried in her phone.

“Piper,” he called out.

She looked up, tears streaking down her face.

His gut twisted.

What happened?

“Go back to your party,” she told him when he was close enough to hear.

“Not on your life.” And her life was all that mattered in that moment.

He saw the shift where she attempted to play off whatever was happening as if it was nothing. “I think I ate something wrong.”

He was close enough now to see nothing but pain in her eyes. “Right.”

“Really, Chase. Go. My ride will be here in ten minutes.”

He signaled to the doorman and gave him the card for their driver.

“Chase.”

She didn’t want to tell him what was wrong . . . fine. Maybe a couple of dozen miles in LA traffic that never seemed to end would open her up. “They charge a couple of hundred bucks when you get sick in the back of an Uber.”

She sucked in a slow breath and dropped her phone in her purse in surrender.

Chase kept silent. Much as it killed him to do so . . . his eyes focused on the front door and not on the woman he desperately wanted to hold in his arms and beg her to tell him what was wrong so he could fix it.

The driver pulled up.

Chase moved forward and waited for Piper to walk in front of him.

All the while, his phone buzzed in his suit pocket.

The driver met Chase as Piper ducked into the car.

“Back to her place.”

Chase followed Piper into the back of the limousine as the driver slid behind the wheel.

The car jolted forward in complete silence.

She would talk . . . when she was ready.

It killed Chase not to ask. Killed him to not look at his phone that buzzed no less than four times since he ran after her.

Silence.

Was it Floyd?

No . . . Alex was the one who apologized.

His forearm flexed with the need to check his phone.

Thirty long minutes later, they were pulling alongside the curb to her home, a whole lot less happy than when they’d left.

Piper pushed through the door before he could respond. “Thank you,” she uttered.

Chase jumped out the other side, looked at the driver, who had barely stepped out of the car, and said, “Wait here.”

Piper was already halfway down her driveway when he caught up to her.

His phone was out, a flashlight on.

“How do you run in those things?”

“I’m not running.”

The light on her front porch greeted them. As did the bark of Kit from the inside.

She fumbled with her key until it made it into the lock. Then said, “Thank you for getting me home.” Opened the door and closed it in his face.

He placed his hand on the door when he really wanted to slam it there. “I’m not leaving until we talk. Tomorrow morning, you’ll see me sitting here in a rumpled tux with an aching back.”

The only response was Kit, who whimpered at the door.

Twenty minutes later, he walked up the driveway and told the driver he could leave, then made good on his promise.

Thankfully, Piper had a single chair on her porch, which Chase thought for sure was his bed for the night.

“I’m still here,” he said loud enough for her to hear if she wasn’t already asleep. He pulled the collar up on his jacket to ward off the chill that seeped into the late-spring night.

His phone had stopped buzzing.

He hadn’t looked at it.

Whatever was going on was between the two of them . . . and Chase didn’t want anyone else’s voice in his head all night long.

He’d long since undone his tie and unbuttoned the parts of his dress shirt that made it hard to breathe when the sound of the lock on her door made a clicking noise and the door opened an inch.

The sound was heaven to his ears.

A couple of bones Chase didn’t know he had popped when he stood.

He walked into Piper’s home and was met with Kit’s narrow eyes.

Piper had already left the room.

“Hey, buddy.”

Kit wasn’t amused.

No playful panting.

No wagging of his partial tail.

Kit stood rooted in place as if commanded to do so.

Chase closed the door behind him.

Piper emerged from a hallway.

She wore a fluffy gray bathrobe, her hair still piled up on her head, the extra layer of makeup removed to reveal the natural beauty of her face.

“You should go home.”

Chase shook his head several times and then sat on the arm of her sofa, which was right by her front door. The house couldn’t be a thousand square feet. It reminded him of the doom room next to his in college. He and his buddies had made one room their living room and the other room their bedroom, giving the space a bigger feel, even though it was the same amount of square footage. “I don’t doubt you’re right, but I’m not leaving until we talk.”

“Alex is right.”

Chase really didn’t want a wedge between him and his sister. Yet hearing her name told him that might not be an option at this point.

“Right about what?”

Piper leaned against the wall. “We can’t. You shouldn’t be here.”

We can’t and you shouldn’t sounded very contradictory in his head. “Which one is it?”

“We can’t.” She slapped a hand to her chest. “I can’t.”

Piper was going to cry. He saw the shudder in her frame and the unease in her eyes.

Chase stood, and Kit warned him with a growl.

Piper said something to her dog in a different language that made him sit back down.

Chase moved to her and placed a hand on her face. “Talk to me.”

Whatever was going on in her head was so painful he felt it to his core. Instead of repeating his demand again, he pulled her in his arms and held her until her body went limp.

Her shoulders shook while she took sharp, deep breaths as silent tears took over her body.

Chase wrapped his arms around her, held her tighter.

Much to his surprise, he felt her fingers crawl into his back as if asking that he never let go. Whatever this was, it was big.

Women as strong as Piper didn’t fold like she was right now. Not without reason.

“It’s okay,” he whispered.

She shook her head in his shoulder.

He placed a hand on the back of her head. “I got you.”

Piper lifted her head and slowly looked into his eyes.

The depth of the pain he saw pulled a deep desire inside of him to hurt whatever had caused the look in her eyes.

He rested a hand alongside her face.

Her lips parted, and Piper’s eyes shifted to his lips.

A longing that had been growing inside of him since they met heated.

Piper’s hand inched around to his chest, and when her fingertip brushed his neck, he leaned in.

Their lips touched with such tortured slowness that it felt like a dream. Warmth spread, and his gut twisted and fluttered in the way that first kisses did.

Her lips parted just enough to invite more, and then Piper broke away and pressed a hand to her lips. “I can’t do this to you.”

Why the hell did she keep saying that? “We both want this.”

Piper squeezed her eyes as her body started to curve in on itself.

“What is it, Piper?”

She sucked in a breath . . . twice . . . and looked him in the eye. Twice she opened her mouth, then the words came. “I’m pregnant.”

Two words he dreaded hearing when he was younger, and not anything he thought he’d hear until long after he was ready . . .

“What?”

Piper sat back, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I can’t be with you. People will think . . . You don’t deserve that.”

Kit moved to her side.

“Who?” Chase regretted the question the second it passed his lips.

Her shoulders lifted; her head shook. And the words tore from her throat. “There was a nightclub and too many drinks. It wasn’t . . . he wasn’t . . .” She placed her hand under her nose and sucked in a cry. “It was a mistake.”

Their eyes met until she covered her face with both her hands and a sob ripped from her lungs.

Chase felt a sucker punch to his gut.

But not in the way he expected.

He reached out and touched her shoulder.

Piper pulled away.

He took a breath and reached for her a second time . . . and she caved.

Crumbling into his arms, Chase held her as sobs racked her body and emotions he couldn’t imagine poured from her lungs.

All he could do was hold her while she fell apart.

Piper had finally fallen asleep.

She’d cried for what felt like hours. Her head buried deep in his shoulder, his hand brushing her hair.

The story he’d constructed by her broken sentences was put together.

A girls’ night out at a club that ended with a guy and a mutual attraction.

How many times had Chase been that guy?

He had no problem using a condom, but clearly, they don’t always do the job.

And now he held Piper, whose entire life was turned upside down because of one night, as she literally cried herself to sleep.

It all made sense now.

The crackers she always seemed to be nibbling on but never really eating.

The passing on the alcohol when they’d dined out together.

The midday doctor’s appointments that were nothing serious but couldn’t be avoided.

The denial of coffee, but the mistake of drinking his . . .

And the reason she refused to give in to the attraction they both felt.

Sometime after midnight, Chase carried her into her bedroom and laid her down.

The queen-size bed shoved between a closet and a dresser had barely enough room to walk around.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled in her sleep.

“Shh.” Chase kissed her forehead and pulled the covers over her. Bathrobe and all.

Kit jumped up beside her and instantly took his rightful position at her side, his head resting on her outstretched arm . . . his eyes never leaving Chase.

“Good boy,” Chase said as he tiptoed out of the room.

In Piper’s kitchen, Chase splashed cold water on his face.

The thought of leaving was quickly replaced with the need to stay.

Piper had a couch . . . more of a love seat, but enough room to sleep on if you had a chiropractor on speed dial. Chase would make do with the unexpected accommodations.

He pulled the door to her refrigerator open, looking for a bottle of cold water.

Finding what he was looking for, he closed the door and twisted off the cap.

That’s when he saw an envelope held on by a magnet on the surface of the refrigerator door.

A doctor’s name followed by OB-GYN sat in the corner of a return address.

He probably shouldn’t . . . but he did anyway.

Chase removed the envelope and pulled out what was inside.

He watched enough television to know what he was looking at.

It was an ultrasound picture of Piper’s baby.

Chase rolled his thumb over the image, took a deep breath, and sighed.