Truce or Dare (Sweet Fortuity Book 1)

by Grayson, Rica

  "You're a bully."

  And if his face showed confusion, I dismissed it.

  “I didn’t think you would even stay. No wonder you had all those books.” He sounded annoyed, and I wasn't sure if it was with me, or himself.

  “Does it matter? This was what you wanted. Distance. For as long as I’m here.”

  Realization dawned on him.

  “I walked past Abe’s today,” he began, and his eyes focused on the same spot. “Came with my mom. Saw a blueberry cheesecake on display. Reminded me of your weird loathing for it.”

  I shuddered. “It’s not weird. Cheese and cookies don’t mix.”

  He shook his head as if the statement was ridiculous.

  “Sorry," he said roughly. Although he hadn’t said what for, I understood. “What I said… Why did you leave, Sherr? I asked for you to hold on.”

  He didn't understand that not wanting to discuss the past hurt me, because it was as if part of him refused to accept me. The past, for all its flaws was part of who I was, and formed the core of who we were. In making those mistakes, I've learned many things, and in some way, I'd come to accept what I've done. The past was such that it was irrevocable. I could only adapt, could only regret, and have them both cycle in a seemingly incessant loop. And yet because of those, I could grow.

  When I first saw him again in the Ramirez' living room, he told me he had come to terms with the kind of loss, and the kind of pain it brought. What he hadn't fully realized was I had to as well.

  “I can’t do this again. Chase–"

  His expression hardened. "You walk away, and you expect me to follow you. Again."

  "I didn't leave so you could follow me!" The words came out before I thought to soften it, but his words stung. "I left because you decided our relationship wasn't worth it. I left because it was suffocating, what people said, what people thought. It was toxic."

  "Our relationship wasn't worth it? I wanted to marry you! Christ."

  "And because I wasn't ready, you decided it was over." Why was he doing this now? He was breaking my heart all over again, like the first time wasn't enough. "I've accepted that, Chase. And you have no idea how much I regret saying no."

  "You ran away," he accused. "I'm trying, Sherr. I'm fucking trying to know you, but you're too scared to start a real, honest-to-God relationship."

  "You didn't want to talk about it. You wanted to stay in your own world, pretending that I'm some perfect version of myself, and that the past never happened. I can't be that person."

  I walked closer to him. "I'm not perfect," I said earnestly. "I need you to accept all of me, or not at all."

  Saying it all to him now, somehow it was deeply cathartic. Like I've finally let go of something I've been keeping to myself all this time.

  "I thought until you left, we could manage not to go at each others' throats. But you're not leaving are you?" He laughed humorlessly.

  His gaze dropped to the ground as he continued, "I was prepared to give up everything." He kicked a lone rock, it tumbled to the edge and splashed in the pond. "Move wherever you wanted, even if it was in a huge-ass city in the middle of fucking nowhere. And when I told you I loved you, if you could spend the rest of your life with me, you said no," he sank the last word heavily. Pain laced his voice. I couldn't find it in me to be mad. It was as if all the anger seeped out of me, and all that's left was a dull ache.

  I was just really freaking weary. I've been kicking myself everyday for a long time for turning him down. Without him doing it, I've punished myself enough, to a point I was resigned that things would never work with him.

  "Then I saw you again, and then you smiled during the festival and I swear it felt like you lit up the whole place.”

  The way he said it in such a tender way made my breath catch, and my heart squeeze in my chest.

  "I don't know what you want me to say," I said softly.

  "Why," he answered, his eyes blazing. "Was it something I said? Something I'd done? Or was I not good enough for you?"

  He didn't understand. Two years together and still, he didn't understand. "It's not like that!”

  He shoved a hand through his hair in frustration, "Then why?"

  I didn't know how to explain, but I took a deep breath. "You wanted a ring and a picket fence. You wanted forever."

  "And you didn't believe we would have it."

  I stepped away from him and sank down to my knees, picking up a pebble, and weighed it in my hand. I threw it into the water, and it caused tiny ripples. "Did I ever tell you we moved around a lot? From town to town. My mom was a free spirit. She was restless, always looking for something since the divorce. She called it 'soul-searching.' I don't know if she ever found it, but it ended here, in this town."

  I felt him plop down next to me.

  "When I was six, I met a nice French family next to our small apartment. I'd grown close to a little girl who was around my age. Her name was Lauraine. We made a pact, the way kids do. That we'd stick together. Always."

  I wasn't aware my hands shook, until he held them, wordlessly.

  I didn't want to like it. I wanted to stay mad at him. It was my fault, but I was done taking all the blame.

  "She had to leave. Then I was alone, and then we had to leave. I hated my mom that time. I hated what she kept doing. There was never anything lasting or permanent in my childhood, and I never told her, but it bothered me a lot."

  I put my head down, unable to take any more of the intensity of his gaze. Worse, I feared he would judge me.

  I loved my mother to death. But that didn't mean I wasn't at least a little bitter or disappointed about some things. She eventually came to her senses, but those times she neglected to do the small things that mattered made the kid in me weep.

  "You were the first real relationship I ever had," I said earnestly. "The others were fleeting, and everything else paled in comparison. I didn't want to lose that... But at the same time, I didn't want anything to change."

  "That was probably asking for too much," I went on, even though my voice cracked. I felt like if I stopped I would forget all I wanted to say and he would disappear. "I know I couldn't keep you either way. I wasn't prepared for a commitment like marriage, but I knew I still wanted to be with you. But when I lost you–"

  "You're killing me, Sherr," he said gruffly.

  I couldn’t look at him, because I was almost certain what I would see. I continued to stare down at my shoes.

  He went on. “When you said no, it fucking hurt. It felt like what we had didn't mean enough to you to make it permanent. It felt like you wanted the safety net of an escape plan."

  "It's not–"

  "I know that. Saying how I felt. I wanted to be yours, completely. And for you to be mine. Should've talked to you first. By the time I decided to, you were gone. My fucking regret, baby, is that I hurt you, and I didn't even know it," he bit out, pain lacing his words.

  He brought a hand to my neck, an encouragement to look up at him. I inched my head up, and I wondered what he saw. My eyes must've been swimming in tears, my nose puffy and my lips trembling.

  But instead of the hardness I expected, all I saw were his magnetic blue eyes filled with so much warmth, it made my heart stutter.

  Then he pulled me closer, and he crushed his lips against mine. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  When I opened my eyes, he was still looking at me in wonder.

  "Have dinner with me tomorrow."

  "I–What?" Still struggling to wrap my head around the fact, I asked, "You're asking me out– on a date?"

  "Call it whatever you want. Doesn't change the fact. So," he said, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, "you free tomorrow?"

  I felt like he was unraveling every part of me with the intensity of his gaze, like I was the only thing he saw… and I just realized he'd asked a question.

  "I– Well, yes I am, but–"

  “Good. I'll pick you up at seven."

  Chapter Eightee
n

  My boat

  I was freaking out.

  I didn’t know what to wear. I didn’t know what was going on anymore.

  In other words, I was having a complete meltdown.

  Everyone was ecstatic when we came back, although when Chase was there, I could see Sierra’s fingers twitching at her side. Somehow, I had a feeling she still wanted to punch him.

  Two days ago, I was convinced we were done. Now we were… What were we exactly?

  * * *

  When he lifted his eyes to meet mine, my breath caught in my throat.

  There was no more anger, guardedness, or glacial edge to his gaze. When they landed on me, they were warm. For the first time in a while, I felt the past fall away. Right here, right now, whatever happened years ago didn’t factor in.

  He put his elbows on the table and leaned in. His eyes zeroed in on my lips. When I cleared my throat to get his attention, he looked back up at my eyes. “I’m not gonna waste time talking about the past. I think we’re past that,” he stated, in a take-charge tone. “If you feel strongly about something, we talk it out, but the rest, we handle them as they come.”

  I stared.

  Just like that.

  He closed it without giving any room for doubt, or that there was any possibility that this wouldn’t work out. Like any problems we could handle, and somehow, an unspoken reassurance that he’d never let anything hurt me, because I would never have to deal with it alone.

  “Sherr,” his voice said, calling my attention. “I need to know. That okay with you?”

  “Y-yes.”

  Oh my God. What the heck was going on? Unable to help myself, I blurted out, “Chase– what are we?”

  A smile touched his face, and reached his eyes as he replied, “I’m not gonna put labels. Gonna take this slow. We’re whatever you want this to be.”

  I was stunned.

  We’re whatever you want this to be.

  There was a freedom in that. No judgement, no expectations.

  “I want…” What did I want? It frustrated me how hard it was to define the feeling. I gave up, and going with what felt right to me, simply declared, “I want you.”

  My response seemed to please him. “There she is,” he murmured.

  It confused me, because I was right here this whole time.

  “You give me you, baby, and you get all of me,” he continued.

  “Chase,” I replied softly, and I swiped a tear with the back of my hand. “You have me.”

  A look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes, and I felt it, low in my gut, something simmering between us.

  He took my hand, pressed it to his lips, and he held it there. And after what felt like a long time, he let it go, but when our eyes met, I felt something between us shift. Like knowledge that held a ripple effect, it felt huge, and it felt real. And I felt it deep, the start of something taking root.

  * * *

  As we headed out after dinner, my steps slowed down as I looked out, the lights like shining specks of dust scattered down below.

  “Oh wow,” I whispered admiringly.

  The view was incredible, because the restaurant was built on a slanted hill. This high up, everything was distant, the stars only adding to it.

  As I leaned over the rail, I stiffened as his arms wrapped around me.

  And almost despairingly, I realized I couldn't just fall back in his arms and just feel.

  What he said next surprised me. “I’m learning.”

  "Learning what?"

  His thoughtful gaze didn’t miss a thing. “You don't trust easy. I should've taken care of it."

  He’d noticed.

  He didn't need to apologize for it. It wasn't his fault.

  "I never forgot it," I blurted out, averting my gaze to my hands instead. "The look on your face when I told you no."

  Some nights I'd dream of it. Sometimes I'd hear something play on the radio and break down in tears, not really understanding why I felt it so deep.

  His eyes warmed. "You understood," he murmured.

  I did. More than anyone, because when he ended it I realized what I'd done to him, and it was as if a knife twisted in my chest.

  He took a step closer. "Sherr. Look at me."

  Tipping my head up, his eyes met mine. "I'm sorry."

  His words were loaded with so much regret, I had to look away or I'd burst into tears. Get a grip, I told myself.

  “You wouldn’t look at me," I babbled. "That night, you wouldn't look at me. That's when it sank in– that I lost you."

  "Still here," he murmured.

  He was my rock, something I always counted on that I had. I thought he’d wait for me. I thought we’d be okay.

  I felt stupid for hoping. For wanting.

  Although I hadn’t meant to, I’d given him a piece of my heart. And until he broke it, I didn’t know he had it.

  How did I undo that?

  But I wanted to give this a chance. No labels. I could do that.

  * * *

  He drove around for a while, and I kept my window open as some rock song played out loud.

  Just as we were approaching the intersection, he asked, “Want to drop by Serendipitous?”

  “I’m not going back there any time soon,” I shot the idea down immediately. It was too soon since that last encounter, and I had a feeling Tory wouldn’t exactly want to welcome me back with open arms. The guy had a seriously long memory. One time, a non-local disorderly drunk, who came to visit for a week caused a scene, knocking over some bottles. He got a ban, effective immediately.

  He looked at me curiously, and then I saw the moment it finally struck him. “Heard about a commotion in Serendipitous. You were involved?” he asked, sounding amused.

  I grimaced. “I neither confirm, nor deny.”

  “You were,” he choked back a laugh. “It’s okay. I heard his daughter loved your books. You can work on softening the guy a little.”

  The car slowed down to a halt. He walked me to my door, a hand resting low on my back. As if he couldn’t stand the distance between us.

  I perked up at the suggestion. “That’s a great–”

  I paused, pushing the door open as I stepped in, and froze.

  * * *

  I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was at first, but something didn’t feel right as I walked in.

  Then when I traced my steps back, up to when I first pushed the door open, it hit me.

  A lot of people left their houses open. If I wasn’t the last one to walk out, chances are, it wouldn’t be locked. But locking mine became a habit that I had yet to shake off.

  But this time the door wasn’t locked, and it opened as soon as I twisted the knob.

  A shiver of fear crept through me.

  Someone had been here.

  Chase knew something was up when I didn’t move from my spot. I looked up at him and whispered, “It’s open. The door shouldn’t be open.”

  Eyes alert, he switched the lights on. Then he turned to me, and in a voice that brook no argument, said, “Stay here. I’ll go have a look.”

  Someone came in, touched my things, and maybe even took them. The thought sickened me.

  Why would anyone do that?

  I lived comfortably, but there were other people who were wealthier.

  After some time, Chase emerged back to the living room. “All clear.”

  He took my hands in his warm ones, and led me in. It looked the same.

  “This is my home,” I whispered. “Someone went in here.”

  Chase got me into a position where I was nestled against him on my couch.

  “I know, baby.” He rubbed my back soothingly. I didn’t realize I’d been shaking until my body started to relax under his touch.

  “Why would someone do that? What would they even…”

  The email.

  For some reason, that message flashed in my mind, and I shot up straight and ran to my room.

  Leonardo and Kath. That
was my third book on my latest series.

  It wasn’t on my shelf.

  I liked having the paperback copy. It was an awesome feeling, having the physical copy of months of hard work. Sometimes it served as a useful reference, if I wanted to look through multiple things at once.

  I found my copy spread open on the floor as if casually tossed. My heart dropped. I thumbed through the book. Leo didn’t have very much page time, so I knew roughly where to find his parts.

  He drew on it. Scratched to the point where every mention of the hero’s name was pressed so hard that it made holes. My hand was wet with something, and when I realized what it was, my stomach churned. I dropped it like it was on fire.

  Chase followed behind me, and his eyes glinted with fury when he saw what I held. “Fuck. He jerked off to it?” he growled, pulling it away from my grasp.

  He pulled me out of my room as I sobbed, and I couldn’t seem to stop.

  Then he made a call.

  * * *

  By the time the police left, I was spent.

  I liked him here, but I didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay. “You should probably go. You must be tired.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve had a long day, gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  I blinked, not expecting his response. He was going to stay?

  “You’re–You’re not leaving?” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice.

  “I thought I made myself clear earlier, but clearly, I hadn’t,” he said, looking at me like I’d spoken a different language altogether. “You can come to my place, to Haley’s or whoever, or I can stay here with you. Either way, you’re not going through this alone.”

  Wow.

  I didn’t feel all that comfortable here at the moment. In the end, after some pretty determined persuasion, he got me to go to his place, and that was that.

  * * *

  The TV was on, and it was playing some cooking show. He only had one couch, but it was velvety and I loved it. It was one of those couches that folded up to extend so you could rest your feet. So I grabbed two pillows and stacked them on the armrest, scooting over to the other end. Then I rested my head on the pillow.