Show up at his house unannounced? We were in a relationship; it was normal for me to be concerned that I hadn’t heard from him, right?

Then again, if he’d wanted to hear from me, I would have spoken to him by now. Unlike him, I was exactly where I was supposed to be. And completely accessible in any number of ways—text, voice, email, office phone. He could certainly reach me.

Unless.

Unless something was wrong.

Oh my God. Something was wrong.

What the hell was I doing sitting in the office?

Practically sprinting to the subway, I hopped on the first train and traveled uptown. I rang the bell, but Chase’s brownstone was dark. The mail hadn’t been taken in for a day…maybe even two. Not knowing what else to do, I reluctantly went home after a while. First thing in the morning, I’d go see Sam if I still hadn’t heard from him.

I tossed and turned the entire night. Eventually, I took a shower and got myself ready even though it was barely five a.m. I’d had my phone on the charger, and when I opened the text string I had with Chase, I noticed my messages from last night had been recently read. Yet there was no response. He must have plugged his phone in somewhere. Possibly home?

My emotions swung back and forth like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. He was obviously somewhere that he could plug in his phone, so he could’ve called to let me know he was all right. Yet…maybe he wasn’t okay. Maybe he needed someone. Maybe that someone was meant to be me.

And so back uptown I went. The sun had just started to rise as I reached Chase’s stop. This time, when I reached his brownstone, there was a light on inside. And mail no longer stuck out of the box hanging next to the door.

I ran the bell and waited anxiously. After a few minutes, the door opened. I sucked in a breath and waited for Chase to speak.

But he didn’t. Even more heartbreaking, though, was that he also didn’t open the door and invite me in. Instead, he stepped outside onto the stoop. Keeping distance between us, he stared off somewhere down the block, no place in particular.

“Chase?” I took a step forward but stopped when I smelled him. Alcohol teemed from his pores. It was then I realized he was wearing the same shirt and slacks he’d been wearing the last time I saw him in the office. They were a crumpled mess now, and his tie was missing, but it was definitely the same clothing.

He still hadn’t responded or looked at me.

“Chase? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

The silence was painful. It felt like someone had died, and he couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t face it.

Oh my God. Has someone died? “Is Anna okay? The baby?”

He closed his eyes. “They’re fine.”

“What’s going on? Where have you been?”

“I needed some time alone.”

“Does this have something to do with the woman who was at your office the other night?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“Then what does it have to do with?” My voice came out high and reedy, and it broke on a whisper. “I don’t understand.”

For the first time, Chase finally looked my way. When our gazes met, I saw so much in his eyes—hurt, pain, sadness, anger. I gasped. Not so much because it scared me, but because I could feel the pain he was experiencing for whatever reason. My chest tightened, and a knot swelled in my throat, making it difficult to swallow.

Even though his body language was anything but welcoming, I reached out, wanting to offer him comfort. He pulled back as if my touch was fire.

“Chase?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

I furrowed my brow, refusing to understand. “You’re sorry? For what? What’s going on?”

“You were right. We work together. Nothing should have happened between us.”

It felt like someone had backhanded me across the face. “What?”

He looked down at me again, his eyes meeting mine, yet I felt like he still couldn’t see me. Why did he look so lost?

“I hope you’ll stay on. Josh thinks very highly of your work.”

“Is this a joke? What happened? I don’t understand.”

Chase’s expression went from blank to hurt, and I suddenly wanted to see more of that on his face. I felt used and insignificant. Ashamed. And I hated that he’d made me feel like that. It was him who should be ashamed at how he was acting.

He hung his head, not facing me—like a coward. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? I don’t even understand whatever it is you’re sorry for.”

“I’m not the right man for you.”

I took a step closer, forcing him to look at me. “You know what? You’re right. Because the right man for me would have the balls to at least give me the truth. I have no idea what happened, but I don’t deserve this.”

I saw a flash of something in his eyes, and for a half of a second, it looked like he was going to reach out to me. But he didn’t. Instead, he took a full step back, almost as if he needed distance to keep himself from touching me.

I began to turn around—wanting to get the hell out of there so I could disappear with some shred of my dignity intact—but then turned back.

“You know the worst part of this? You were the first person who’d made me feel safe since I was a kid.”

Chapter 30

Chase – Two days ago

“There’s a Detective Balsamo here to see you.”

My secretary’s face was wary when she came into my office. I had an eleven o’clock meeting I was already running late for after my director of marketing had interrupted my morning to tell me what he thought of my new relationship.

This day was getting better by the fucking minute.

“Can you call R&D and tell them I’m going to need to reschedule?”

“For later today?”

“No. Leave it open as of now.”

She nodded. “Should I send the detective in?”

“Give me five minutes, and then she can come on back.”

I drew the electronic blinds and opened a text message from Reese canceling our lunch date. Could this day get any shittier?

Perhaps I shouldn’t have challenged the powers that be with that question.

Nora Balsamo was the lead detective on Peyton’s case. She was early thirties, slim, attractive, with blonde hair that was always pulled back in a ponytail. The first time we met, I’d looked right past her—literally over her head—and asked her captain for a more experienced detective. I never even gave her a chance.