Page 20 of Chasin’s Surrender

“Is there anything else?”

“No. I’ve given Nixon an inventory, including pictures of the gifts, copies of the letter, and a timeline.”

“Thanks,” was all I said because there wasn’t anything else to say.

“One more thing,” Bobby said. The look on her face told me to brace so I did. “I quit.”

“What?” I croaked.

“I quit. I’ll stay until this is over, and I’ll stay until you find my replacement. I’ll do what I can to train her, but after that, I’m done.”

More betrayal.

“That look tells me I made the right decision.”

I shot to my feet and stared down at my best friend. “The right decision is to abandon me? I know the last two years have been rough. But I thought… never mind.”

I was halfway to the door leading downstairs when Bobby called my name.

“I’m quitting the job, not you.”

“Same thing.”

“It sure as fuck isn’t and that’s why I’m quitting. You’ve lumped me in with all those greedy assholes that want a piece of you. Guess what, friend, I just want you. I want what we’ve always had, back. I want you back. I want us to have secrets again. I want us to laugh and joke and be friends. Hell, Genevieve, you met a guy and invited him to your house, obviously got busy with him, and you didn’t even tell me.”

Bobby raised her hand, stopping me from protesting. “And before you tell me it was nothing, it was something. And even if it was nothing, I used to know about the nothings. I used to know everything.”

She pierced me with her knowing stare. “But Chasin Murray isn’t nothing. I didn’t see your reaction to him, I felt it. Not only didn’t you tell me, you lied to me. Ever since I got here, you’ve been near tears when you think I’m not watching. I asked you what was wrong and you told me you were stressed out about your stalker. But that song…shit, Viv, it oozes heartbreak.

“And”—Bobby surged to her feet—“that new tattoo? But it’s not me. The refrain in the song—you tattooed that on your arm? You’ve never tattooed lyrics on your body, and, babe, you’ve written some kickass songs. But those words you inked on your skin, so I know they mean something. But I don’t know what the hell they mean and that fucking kills. So I quit. I don’t want to be your assistant. I want to be your friend.”

When Bobby was done delivering her perfectly aimed death shot to my heart, I turned and ran down the stairs like a chicken. I couldn’t face her and the truth she told. I made it to the bottom of the stairs and hit a brick wall of muscle.

With an oomph, I collided with Chasin.

Much to my discomfort, his arms went around me in an effort to keep me from bouncing off of him. Not that I wasn’t happy to keep my feet, but that meant I was in his arms—again. For the second time in one day, I was reminded of how good it felt to be surrounded by all things Chasin.

A reminder I didn’t need, because I hadn’t forgotten. But it was one I couldn’t afford.

Not now.

Not when my defenses were down.

If Bobby’s words pried open my emotional padlocks, Chasin’s soft “baby” blew the gates wide open. My body bucked, his arms tightened, his head lowered. His face now in my hair, he muttered, “Baby, what the fuck?”

It was the second “baby” that did it.

I wrenched myself free and stepped away.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Genevieve—”

“Just don’t. Please.”

Chasin glanced over my shoulder, his face turned to granite and his eyes narrowed. I used that to my advantage and took off down the hall while his attention was diverted.

Yes, it was the coward’s way out.