IN THE LINE

11 | BREAKING POINT

CHACE

I'm sitting in the coffee shop, lost in my thoughts about yesterday. I need something to help me focus and get through the day cause I didn't sleep at all last night. I left the house early to avoid my parents, knowing they'd ask about my face. They've probably already heard about the incident at the Swanns, put two and two together. But I don't want them to know I was there. Not my parents, not my friends, and definitely not Amber.

I can't stand the thought of them talking about the Swanns like they always do, calling them a problematic family, saying something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. All that judgment, without a shred of empathy.

But that's not what bothers me the most. I feel anxious and sick because I have no idea how Chloe or her mom are doing. My best shot is to go to the hospital and ask myself. Maybe even find Chloe and talk to her. I know Daniel's out of town, and I want to be there for her.

But... damn it, Chace, you're an idiot. If I showed up out of nowhere, after years of barely speaking to her, she'd probably kick me out without a second thought.

She's got Mia anyway.

Mia.

I pick up my phone and dial her number, but it goes straight to voicemail. She'll probably call me back soon. I don't usually call her, and she knows something's up. I only even have her number because she called me the other day to pick up Chloe. So yeah, she'll call back.

I put the phone down and stare out at the busy street, but my mind is far away. The smell of fresh coffee snaps me back to the present. I look up, and the waitress is standing there, staring at me with piercing blue eyes. She's tall, blonde, and setting the coffee in front of me, but she's not just doing her job. Her tone isn't professional. It's... something else.

'Do you need anything else?' she asks, her voice dripping with suggestion. Her eyes rake over me, undressing me in her mind. Yeah, she's hot. The kind of girl most guys would trip over themselves for.

"No, I'm good. Thanks," I say, hoping she'll take the hint and move on.

But she doesn't. Instead, she leans in a little closer, her hand brushing mine. The touch lingers, just long enough to make it clear this isn't accidental.

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," she says, her voice dropping a little lower, like she's trying to pull me into some game I don't want to play.

I've had enough. 'You're at the wrong address. There's nothing I want from you,' I snap.

'You sure? You look like you could use a little... distraction.' She bites her lip, her fingers teasing the neckline of her top.

I sigh internally. I should just ignore it, but something about this whole situation gets under my skin. It's not just her; it's the way she's treating herself.

"Look," I say, locking eyes with her, "you don't even know me. Throwing yourself at strangers like this? It doesn't make you more wanted. It makes you seem like you don't care about yourself. There's nothing attractive about that."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she's speechless. I can see the shock in her expression—this probably isn't the kind of response she's used to.

She freezes, her face a mix of shock and anger. I guess she's not used to being rejected. She clicks her tongue and stalks off, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

Whatever. I'm sure she'll find some other guy soon enough, someone who won't think twice about taking what she's offering.

I take a sip of my coffee, trying to shake off the encounter, but my thoughts go right back to last night. What would've happened if I hadn't shown up? Would he have strangled her to death?