Page 72 of Raven's Curse
His shoulders drooped, some of the light leaving his eyes. “I thought…”
She stepped in, wrapped her arms around him, avoiding the bandages covering his left side. “I know. And I’m sorry. I guess I never stopped to consider that he was a victim, too.”
Chase pulled her close, his breath feathering across her shoulder, the warmth of his body finally chasing the chill from hers. “It doesn’t change what he did, but…”
She eased back, brushing her thumb across his jaw. “So, what’s this about not taking any meds?”
He stilled, the tension returning to his muscles. “It’s not my thing.”
“Not abusing drugs is a thing. Not taking appropriate measures to mitigate your pain is something else.” She cocked her head to the side. “Obviously, there’s a story here.”
Chase looked over her shoulder at Foster.
Foster merely shrugged. “It’s your secret to share, buddy. I haven’t said a word.”
She cupped his jaw. “If you’d rather not, it’s okay.”
Chase grunted as he shifted on the bed, holding his side with his other hand. “My dad was a great guy. Hard-working. Fun. A real family man. Then, one summer, he crashed his motorcycle. Had to have a bunch of surgeries. I guess the pain was pretty bad because the doctor kept prescribing him narcotics. Morphine, then other pills. He never talked about it, just always mumbled something about being cursed. That it wasn’t his fault. But within six months, he became this angry, violent addict. I used to tell people that he only got mean when he was itching for a fix, but the truth is… He was always mean. High. Low. Sober. Drunk. It became his default personality.”
She dropped her hand to his, squeezed it. “I’m sorry. No one should have to live under that kind of threat.”
“My brothers and I got really good at reading him. Knew when to steer clear — stay over at a friend’s. It worked for a while until this one night…” Chase closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “He was supposed to be working late, but he came home early, completely wasted. Swinging at anything that moved. My mom managed to calm things down — get him into bed. The house went quiet. The kind that felt heavy. Wrong. Then, the floor creaked, footsteps padding down the hall. I’m not sure why I jumped out of bed, climbed out the window, but…”
He swallowed, looked as if he might puke. “There was a pop. Like the night just split open. Loud. Clear. Then, another. And another. Dogs started barking, lights flew on, sirens wailed in the distance. It took the cops five minutes to get there, but it was too late.”
He stared down at his hands. “They found him on the landing, self-inflicted wound. The gun still warm beside him. Blood everywhere. Nothing breathing but the walls. The memories bleeding out on the floor. Since then…”
She nodded, still holding his hand. “You’re worried it’s inside you, too.”
“Can’t really take the chance.”
“I get it. Easier to err on the side of caution.”
Chase glanced at Foster. “See?”
“Though, would a man with that kind of darkness in his soul try to save a killer? Simply because he’d once stood for honor? Been part of the brotherhood?” Greer inched closer. “Do I seem like the kind of girl who’d fall head over heels for a man I couldn’t trust with my life, no matter what state he was in?”
Chase stared at her, eyes narrowed. “Did you seriously just play that card?”
“What card?”
“The love card?”
Her heart fluttered as the word slipped free, hanging between them like a promise. She smiled, dropped a gentle kiss on his mouth. “I believe I did.”
The shadows eased, all that tension melting away. “Not fair.”
“What’s not fair is me telling you I love you, and you not saying it back.”
He stilled, eyes wide, red creeping along his cheeks. He opened his mouth, closed it, then laughed. Low. Genuine. “Say it, again.”
She brushed some hair back from his eyes, all the tension from earlier lifting. “Okay, but that means I’m ahead by two.”
“Greer…”
“I love you, Chase.”
“Damn straight.” He tugged her close, planted a searing kiss on her lips. “And I love you more.”
