Page 98 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
She turned around, obviously startled. Her pupils dilated, the significance of their surroundings kicking in at last, he hoped. He wasn’t sure he could take much more anticipation, not knowing what she was thinking or feeling.
“I take it you brought me here for a reason?” she asked. “Besides me needing rest?”
He grunted. “You do need rest. And I’m going to see that you get some.” He caressed the dark skin beneath her eyes with the pad of his thumb.
At his simple touch, a soft moan escaped her throat. Acting on instinct, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, invading her personal space and bringing her squarely into his.
To hell with leading into things slowly. “I love you, I missed you, and I want you in my life. Forever,” he said gruffly.
A smile lifted her lips. “Keep talking.”
“You were right not to believe I was ready for commitment,” he said, explaining what he’d only just come to understand.
She blinked, her eyes wide and comprehending. “I never wanted you to look back and resent me or feel like I trapped you during a weak moment.” She shrugged with her good arm. “I’d rather know you were happy without me than miserable with me.”
“Not a chance,” he growled. “But I do have a lot to tell you.”
“Then do you think we can sit down? I’m still kind of weak.”
Taking in her pale face, he agreed. “Sure thing, sweetheart.” Chase lifted her into his arms and settled her down on the couch across from the fireplace. Feeling more hopeful than when he’d surprised her at the airport, he joined her. He wanted to see her face as he explained his past, his present, and their future, and how he’d come to the realizations that he’d reached.
* * *
Sloane licked her dry lips, waiting in silence, wondering what Chase had to say. She understood it was serious and knew he’d put a lot of thought into where, when, and how to share his feelings with her. She understood too that whatever he had to say would determine their future, and her heart pounded hard in her chest.
“Talk to me.” Reaching over, she grabbed his hand, needing to feel his heat and strength.
“Remember I told you my dad died and I took over all aspects of the family?” His eyes dilated as the memories overtook him.
She nodded. “Of course I remember.”
“Well, I was sitting and holding Lilly, Roman and Charlotte’s baby, and marveling at how this little person had already wormed her way into my heart.”
She shivered at the imagery he’d given her—Chase, his big, strong hands holding a baby—and she wished it were their baby he was holding. Wished and hoped that’s what he desired too. “And?”
“And I started thinking about how she was another person for me to protect. Then it dawned on me.” He met Sloane’s gaze. “She wasn’t my responsibility. She’s Roman and Charlotte’s. But I still had this initial, instinctive need to protect her.”
Sloane smiled, her grip on his hand tightening. “That’s because you’re special.”
“It’s because I’m a controlling son of a bitch,” he countered, laughing at his self-imposed description. “And while holding that little baby, I realized why.”
Sloane resisted the urge to curl into him, to kiss him, to tell him the whys didn’t matter. Because they did. She’d pushed him away once before and now he was giving her what she needed to trust him, the reasons for his sudden change of mind. If he understood why he was ready for a one-eighty change in his future, then he’d never look back and regret it.
She leaned forward, wanting to hear more.
“I guess this need to be in control of the people I care about, their lives and their well-being, started when my father died. It was damn obsessive, but my mother was too grateful to care, and Rick and Roman were strong enough to find their own way despite me.” He shook his head, his laughter self-deprecating.
“No, Rick and Roman were strong enough to find their own way because of you,” Sloane countered.
“Well, it doesn’t change the fact that I developed that white-knight complex you mentioned because it gave me the illusion of being in control. The illusion of safety.”
He drew a deep breath, and Sloane waited, wanting him to feel no pressure, only support.
He leaned his head against the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling. “In my misguided mind, I figured if I controlled my family and was always there for them, I wouldn’t lose them …” He paused as his voice cracked. Then clearing his throat, he continued. “I wouldn’t lose them the way I lost my father.”
His admission struck Sloane in the heart. She’d only thought she understood this often silent, mostly enigmatic man, but she hadn’t known his deepest pain.
She did now and she regretted forcing him to dig so deep that he had to suffer. “I’m sorry. I pushed you away when I should have realized you understood yourself well enough not to offer more than you could give. But I was afraid too. I’d just been through a betrayal with Michael and Madeline and it affected me more than I’d been willing to admit to myself.” She shook her head. “But I shouldn’t have pushed you away in order to fight my own insecurities. I’m sorry.”
