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“In the hotel bar.”
“Alone?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Someone has you off your game. What’s going on between you and my sister-in-law?”
I palm my forehead, caving. I confide everything to Atlas, from how I reneged on our agreement to keep our relationship private to me manhandling her onto my bike and presenting her in my arms to her former lover.
Atlas is laughing hard on the other end of the line. “Damn, bro. You’re as bad as I was.”
“It gets worse,” I admit. “I refused to apologize. I’d do it all over again to keep that slippery prick away from her. She accused me of not taking her feelings into consideration, being a possessive jerk, and breaking trust.”
He sighs. “I understand why you did it—been there, done that. I’m not one to call out a brother for being territorial about his woman. But she isn’t wrong. You broke a promise. Doesn’t matter that you did it to protect her from him. You made a decision that affects her without consulting her first. What you did is a betrayal in her eyes. Her trust was already thin to begin with. After everything her ex put her through, your duplicity is another log on her pyre for men.”
Dammit all. He’s right, and I’m such an idiot for not looking at the broader picture. I may not have been the man who hurt her the most, but I’m dealing with the consequences of Trent’s actions. My transgressions aren’t something she’s willing to tolerate after having dealt with the mother lode of bullshit from the man before me.
Defeated, my head hits the bartop. I no longer care if I look pathetic to the other patrons. “How do I fix this?”
“Own your shit. Admit your fuck up and beg her to forgive you.”
My face twists with displeasure. “Sounds extremely unpleasant. Isn’t there an easier way?”
Atlas chuckles. “Nope. When Jo came into the picture, I learned real quick my pride would get me kicked to the curb. I swallowed my arrogance like razor blades, but I manned up because that’s what she needed—a real man. A real man isn’t afraid to admit when he’s wrong and asks for forgiveness. A real man puts his woman’s heart before his ego. You’re not losing a part of yourself by admitting failure. You’re growing into the better version of yourself, for her and for you.”
His words wash over me like a baptism, cleansing me of my toxic behavior I refused to acknowledge before our conversation.
“Let me ask you something. Do you love her?”
“Absolutely.” It’s the first I’ve admitted it to anyone aside from Simone when I was half-asleep.
“Then do the right thing, Chase. Or you can kiss your shot with your queen goodbye.”
A baby wails in the background. “Gotta go, man. You good?”
I stand from my stool, striding out of the bar. “I’m good.”
“Are you going to take my advice, or do I need to order you to do it?”
I hit the button on the elevator, sliding inside as the door opens for me. “I’m already on the move.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
SIMONE
The bed is cold when I wake in the morning. Not wanting to appear desperate, I pretend to still be sleeping and slowly inch my hand across the sheets, seeking Chase’s warmth. No matter how far I reach, all I find is emptiness, similar to the hollow feeling in my chest.
When Chase hadn’t returned last night, I worried. I refused to call or text him, not wanting to appear like the overbearing girlfriend. Instead, I called Punk. A part of me worried he’d give me crap for trying to keep tabs on his best friend. Not once did Punk give me grief for my concern. He told me to give him space—Chase would return once he was ready. They weren’t the words I wanted to hear, but I understood the need for distance when emotionally overwhelmed.
I attempted to stay awake until Chase returned, but the events of the long day, along with my weighted emotions, won out. I crashed hard, something I haven’t done since I caught Trent and Cynthia together. Sleep is my body’s way of avoiding the pain. Depression has that effect on some.
We’ve only shared a bed for a couple of days, and I’m already accustomed to Chase’s heavy presence beside me as I sleep. The way he molds his long, muscled body around mine is like the weighted blanket of my dreams.
Where has he been all night? My gut twists as several unsettling scenarios play out in my head. Have I finally driven him away with my unrelenting demeanor? Did he share a bed with a more willing woman last night? Does he even care about my feelings?
I pull my arm back, wrapping it around myself to hold the hurt in. I was furious with Chase’s antics yesterday. Not only did he disregard my wishes to keep my private life out of the mission, he thinks Trent is a threat to our relationship.
How can my handsome, brainy biker be stupidly jealous of an orange troll?
