Midnight Toxicity

42.

"Take these pills," Chace urged, holding them to my lips. "Swallow slowly."

I wanted to refuse. The last dose had me so high; I swear I saw sounds. But control was overrated, so I opened my mouth and let him place them on my tongue. "Happy? This week is not my favorite. Not this year. Next year doesn't look much better either."

He slumped into the chair by the window with a soft grunt in response. "Your ability to see any humor in what we just went through makes me realize you don't fear easily. We have two weeks."

Covering my lower half with a sheet, I pulled my knees up to my chin on the bed. I tried not to think about what kind of surprise Andy Golding had in store for us. The upcoming trip to the beach was supposed to be a brief escape, a chance for some normalcy. But as I looked at Chace, that flicker of worry in his eyes made me wonder if I should be preparing for something worse.

Chace ran his hands through his shoulder-length hair, and I admired his handsomeness. Those black-rimmed glasses really added to the inviting way his sparkly eyes dipped over me as well. There was a long, drawn-out silence as we took each other in. He was so handsome and strong, I wondered why he was always so unhappy.

"I have to tell you something," he said, sitting forward, wetting his lips. "Please understand, I've been around these people a long time."

I frowned at his abrupt intensity. "What is it?"

He stood and took slow, deliberate steps at the foot of the bed, as if each word could shape what came next. "If this thing between us is real," he said softly, "you deserve to know who I am."

He had my full attention. I knew it! There was always a little something off when I tried to ask him about his past. I had talked to the crew about their lives before Motley Hall, but Chace had always walked away from me when questioned.

He pushed his glasses up, facing me fully. "Andy Golding is my uncle."

The words felt like a blow, yet I couldn't help but feel a flicker of something else, curiosity, perhaps... a strange sense of possibility. My throat tightened, but I kept my face composed. Inside, my mind spun. How did I miss the link?

Their captivating silvery hair, commanding presence, and irresistible physique drew my attention for a reason.

I tugged my long hair around my shoulders with anxiety, smoothing it down as I tried to formulate an intelligent opinion. "Oh," I breathed when I realized he was waiting for a reaction. "Does Uncle Andy know about us?"

He shook his head. "No, and you know I don't call him that."

"Why are you telling me this now, Chace?" I finally whispered, feeling the weight of betrayal and curiosity clash inside me as I searched for some kind of footing in this new, complicated truth.

My mind whirled, unraveling threads I'd never dared to consider. This connection, this shared secret, might serve as a bridge. Maybe it was a way to finally understand Andy Golding—who he was beyond the cold exterior, the man who demanded respect and kept everyone at arm's length.

There was a flicker of something in Chace's eyes—serious, raw, and almost pleading, and I felt my breath catch. I was desperate to believe this truth could be a bridge, an opening that might finally connect me to something real. But part of me, the wary, beaten part, pressed a hand over my heart, whispering: Trust is dangerous. Secrets are safer.

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken possibilities. I wasn't sure where this truth would lead, whether it would create a divide between us or bring us closer together. But suddenly, I felt a faint flicker of something new stirring. With our shared secrets and understanding, maybe we weren't so different after all.