Truce or Dare (Sweet Fortuity Book 1) (15 page)

He left me with that.

I sat there, speechless. A proposal? Was he insane? I wasn’t even sure what I’d do with a proposal, not that it would happen any time this century, because I was done.

Wes apparently found it hilarious, because as soon as Abe left, he burst out laughing.

* * *

E
va
, and Sierra offered to help me set up a couple of new pieces of furniture, and to help me with painting and fixing up some areas.

“What on earth do you put in here?” Eva asked me as she carried a box.

“A lot of old notebooks and folders,” I shrugged, taking it from her and gently lifting it down next to the couch.

Eva brought some frozen cookie-dough, while Sierra offered to help roll them up and put them in the oven.

We were cutting the tape on some boxes next when Sierra peeked her head from the doorway.

“Umm, can one of you check if I’m doing this right when you're free? Don’t want to mess this up.”

Then she went back into the kitchen.

Eva volunteered to remove the kitchen wallpaper. When Sierra didn’t come out fifteen minutes later, Eva looked worried.

“I’ll go check what Sierra’s doing. Don’t want her making the oven explode or anything.”

Crap. I nodded. Didn’t want her blowing up the kitchen just when I was setting things up.

The radio was on, playing a soft bluesy tune. The scent of vanilla candles wafted in the room as Eva lit some up a short while ago. They were a gift from Haley, and they were in a gorgeous rose-shaped form.

I finally made it to the shelf, placing some binders and old books I loved reading on it. I transferred some books stacked on corner tables to one central shelf to make things easier to find.

A knock on the door startled me. Haley, Kate and Wes were at work, so that crossed them out.

* * *

I
didn't expect
to see him there. He waited outside, bumping a hanging potted plant with his knuckle, making it swing.

I opened the door slowly. Chase stood just before the doorstep, looking a little out of place. And the way he looked at me, it was like he couldn’t believe I was here.

I didn't know what to say. It was still too raw, and I was still struggling to deal with it.

Suddenly arms were around me, my face planted on his shoulder. And almost as soon as he had me in his arms, he let me go. Why did I feel the chill all the way to my heart?

"Chase–"

"I went by Haley's this morning," he said.

I moved back cautiously.

Unsure of where this conversation was heading, and aware his gaze was on me, I busied my hands. I rushed to the shelf. I picked up a stack of books… and with my clumsy hands, dropped them.

Damn it.

I didn’t know how to deal with this side of him. He’d been sweet on me, and after me deciding to stay away, I was left confused. He'd doubted what we had, the strength of what I'd felt for him, and above everything else that he said, that cut the most.

I could admit to myself that I wanted him, but how would it ever work out?

“Then I went here, but you weren’t here either… Thought you went back,” he said. He bent down to help me pick up some of the books I dropped.

“Thanks,” I said carefully.

I arranged the books on my shelf carefully. My hands trembled, but I took a deep breath. There was no way to mask the effect he had on me, so I decided to avoid his gaze altogether.

Get a grip.

“I just went to get some stuff," I said evenly. “Don’t need to worry. I’m not leaving.”

I resigned myself to thinking this was how it was going to be. People would never believe I’d stay. In the back of their minds, there was the distrust and fear.

“Am I really so untrustworthy?” I tried not to let it show, the bitter sting of his words. This would never work.

Did I imagine a growl? “No. That’s not it.”

“They didn’t burn!” Eva emerged from the kitchen, doing a dance. She stopped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Hey! Why does everyone expect–” Sierra protested as she trailed behind, carrying a tray. Seeing Chase, she glared. “You!” she pointed a finger at him, accusing. “Come close and I’ll cut you.”

Sierra was carrying a tray of cookies, she was at least two feet shorter than him, and she threatened to cut him. I stifled a laugh.

Chase looked like he was holding back more words, frustration etched on his face.

Eva stepped in front of me, her look fiercely protective. Uh-oh. I’ve never seen that look on her. There was no telling what she was going to do.

She narrowed her eyes, daring him to speak. “I know what you did, you ass. I don’t recall Sherr extending an invitation.”

“Eva, Sierra, it’s okay,” I tried to placate them both. It wasn’t okay, but I wasn't going to make an issue out of it and kick him out.

For whatever reason, tonight, he came to me. I didn’t know or understand why, but part of me wanted to know what he wanted, and another part was also weary of the constant back-and-forth.

“He can help,” I suggested.

It surprised her, but I could see the wheels spinning in her mind.

She looked at my bucket of paint at the corner of the room. She looked at my books. She looked back at the bucket. Then she walked past him, grabbed one of the paintbrushes we had, and placed it in his hand, closing his fingers around it.

“Paint all the walls,” she dared.

His eyes glinted, and his eyes scanned the walls, assessing. To my surprise, he smiled, unfazed. “Done,” he said without argument.

He didn’t so much as blink.

It only made Eva pause for a second. “Then prove it.”

Sierra elbowed me. “Is he for real?” she whispered in my ear. Eva game me a thumbs up.

“We have cookies if you want some,” I offered.

* * *

“
O
h no
,” I gasped in horror ten minutes later, looking at the cream-colored shade that spanned half of the wall. “It’s the other side that was meant to have this color.”

“Fuck. Sorry.” He shook his head. “Should’ve gone over things first.”

It sounded like a challenge, and an invitation to talk about it further. I wasn’t going to bite.

Evade, evade, evade. “It’s this color,” I took the right bucket and brought it down next to him.

I decided I wasn’t going to scratch the surface of the past if he wasn’t willing to hear me out. No matter how tempting it was to do so.

And him bringing it up now only served to fuel my anger.

I didn’t know what made me do it, but in a flash of inspiration, I dipped my finger in a bucket, and drew a straight line across his forehead.

He looked shocked at first, then touched his forehead and saw the paint. As if the mere action was incomprehensible. It dropped down to his wrist.

I snickered. His reaction was priceless. And the look on his normally composed self was so out of place, I couldn’t help when my snicker bubbled over into full, bellyaching laughter.

He looked at me like I’d gone insane.

Then a dark look crossed his face, and it made me shiver.

Without warning, he took his shirt off. “Okay, baby. I’ll play.”

He dipped a finger in red paint, and looked me over, his eyes glinting wickedly.

And I didn’t know what the hell to do.

Sierra stared, her mouth gaped open. “Sweet Jesus.”

He stalked in my direction, and I backed up. When my back hit the wall, I froze, putting my hands up in front of me as if that would stop him.

His finger swiped from my chin to my neck. I felt it drip down.

I looked down, astonished. "I liked this shirt."

His eyes went down to my top, and his lips curved up. “Too bad.”

* * *

W
hat the hell
was I thinking when I let him in? Maybe I really had gone insane. Maybe he really was like some sort of drug.

Stupid
. I was so stupid.

Before I could say anything anything else, I was cut off by the sound of Eva’s phone ringing.

“Hello? Paula? Sure.” When the call ended, she said brightly, “She says she has something for you. Also… You might need some help too.”

“I’ll come,” Chase offered.

Hell. Did the universe hate me?

“No, he won’t.” I gave Sierra a pleading look. She shared a look with Eva and she frowned.

Her expression softened when she turned to me. “Call if it’s too much to carry, okay?”

And I understood. Call her if I needed help. I nodded in understanding.

We met Paula fifteen minutes later. If she thought it weird that we were both partially covered in paint, she didn’t say a thing. But she couldn't hold back a laugh, much to my chagrin.

“These are both old oil paintings, but one of them was of the sunset. Gem loved it.” A wistful expression crossed her face. “The other one is for you. You’ll see what I mean. Don’t open it just yet, though.”

A sharp intake of breath escaped me as I saw the painting of the sunset. It’s colors were strikingly vivid and rich, and it captured that magical moment when the sun hit the sparkle of the water, and the orange of the sky blended with the yellow and hints of purple.

The other painting was much smaller, wrapped in thin paper. In that moment, both became precious to me.

“Thank you,” I managed to say.

“Hope you settle in well.” She kissed my cheek, and hugged me.

To my left, Chase went still at her words.

Oh crap. He didn’t know.

“Sherr–”

I walked faster, thinking if I got there, maybe we could delay the conversation, or maybe he would forget about it altogether.

I can dream anyway.

I stopped when I started to recognize where I was going. The familiar shape of the trees; , and the path that gave way to a small clearing.

Chase seemed to have realized it too. “This place…”

My stomach felt sick, and I stopped in my tracks, as if my feet didn’t want to move any further. Was this really happening?

I realized, on this place two years ago, I had my heart broken.

I
t looked exactly the same
.

It was a secluded area that hid the small pond. Wildflowers grew here and there, and there was an organic, earthy feel to it that made it captivating. More lilies bloomed and they flourished, but the trees, the benches, much of it looked the same.

I didn’t really know what I expected, but the place assaulted me with the memories.

I felt like my nightmare was replaying all over again, the one where he tells me that we weren’t meant for each other. By the look on his face, his mind was occupied with the same thoughts. I followed the direction of his gaze, and found it on a bench just across from where we stood.

He chose that moment to look up, and our eyes met. It was electrifying, the kind of connection we had. That connection persisted, and that was what had both pained me and unnerved me when we met again. It was as if the world slowed down to a halt, every other detail vanishing, until he was all that remained.

It wasn’t fair. How could he slay me with a single look, and make the past few years cease to matter?

In that moment, I knew I could no longer deny it. We had to talk soon, the people around me were already going nuts, even if they loved me too much to say it.

A few days alone with my friends gave me the comfort and perspective I needed. Maybe it would change nothing. But maybe, even if it was a small chance, it would change everything.

I laid my palm over one of the benches, at the letters etched in the wood. Sherry J and Chase, wrapped in the heart-shaped bubble. And I could see it in my head as we'd written our names, when I'd insisted he write inside it, back when I’d believed we had a chance.

More memories came. In this same spot he told me he didn't think we were right for each other, and the memory of it was crushing. I remembered the shock, the startling realization that nothing had been real.

When I looked back to him, all his focus was now on me.

“You’re moving in?”

“I– It's not really–” I stammered. I took a tiny step away, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Then it turned into a glare, and he took a step closer, swallowing the distance again.

"You're staying,” he said again, seeking a confirmation. The way he said it sounded more like an accusation.

I braced myself for his reaction. "Yes," I said. Better to keep the replies short.

A pause, and then releasing his breath, he said, “Good.”

Good? Why was it good? Narrowing my eyes, I stepped closer and poked his shoulder. Of course he was glad. He was glad he could torture me longer.

"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."