Page 108 of Bossman

Big drops slid down her cheeks, staining her face. “He feels like he failed to keep Peyton safe, and your biggest concern is safety. He doesn’t feel worthy, but can’t let go.”

The gates opened wide after that. Anna filled me in on everything I’d been missing, from Detective Balsamo to Chase’s walnut knife, and all about Eddie in between. By the time she was done, we were both full-on crying. My heart broke for Chase. It was bad enough to have lost someone he loved, but to find out it was his knife—a knife he’d voluntarily given the man who killed her—made him feel like he’d been the cause of Peyton’s death. Like he hadn’t protected her. Oh God.

Anna and I walked with our arms linked as she pushed the carriage back to her apartment.

“Do you want to come in? Have a glass of wine?” she asked.

“I’d love to. But another day, maybe?”

She nodded. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

“You won’t have to. I’m going to keep in touch whatever happens.”

We hugged each other like long-lost friends.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I need to give it some thought. It’s so much to take in right now.”

“I understand.”

“Could you…do me a favor? When you talk to your brother, don’t let him know you told me? I’m still holding out hope that he’ll tell me himself. I think I’ve just been going about it the wrong way to get him to open up.”

“Of course. I hope everything works out for you two. I really do.”

“Thank you, Anna. For everything.”

I walked away finally understanding why Chase thought he wasn’t the man for me. Now I just needed him to realize he was.

***

Chase arrived at nine that night. I wondered if he was even going to work anymore. He was spending all night guarding my apartment building. He couldn’t possibly be working all day.

I left him out there for an hour while I got things ready and then went downstairs without warning.

When I approached him, he stood. “Everything okay?”

“I…just wasn’t having a good night. Mind if I join you for a while?” I held up the plate I carried. “I made cookies.”

He searched my face, clearly unsure what I was up to. Finding sincerity—I was having a bad night—he nodded. “Of course.”

Our conversation was slow at first, neither of us knowing what to say. I asked him about work, and he asked me about job prospects. I gave some vague responses about considering my options, and eventually, I brought the subject around to what I’d come out to share. There was a lull in the conversation, and I took a deep breath and exhaled audibly.

“I don’t know if I locked the door.”

“Tonight?”

I shook my head. “No. When our apartment was broken into. The key was on a long, red ribbon I liked to wear around my neck. I was the last one out, and I was supposed to lock the door. But I can’t remember if I did. That’s why I always check it three times before I leave.”

“You were a kid.”

“I know. And the neighborhood had a dozen break-ins in the weeks leading up to ours. Some had no signs of forced entry. Others had windows and doors broken. It probably wouldn’t have mattered either way. They still would’ve been inside when we came home. The police said if they wanted to get in, they’d have gotten in one way or another.” I shrugged. “But tonight I was trying to remember if I’d locked it again. I used to replay that day over and over in my head, trying to remember.”

Chase put his arm around me and squeezed. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just talking to you made me feel better, actually.”

His grip around me tightened. “Come on down anytime. I’m here between sundown and sunup.”