Love Broken Page 14

  “You can’t believe in love at first sight,” I repeat myself just as the phone stops ringing, then quickly picks back up.

  “And why can’t I?” he asks, snippier than I was expecting. “Would it be so terrible to believe in it? To think two people can have such a strong connection without having the eons of time together?” The phone continues to ring, and I can tell it’s grating on Chase’s patience. I haven’t seen this side of him, but he’s aggravated. That’s a fact.

  “Chase, I was just saying…”

  The last ring does it for him and he picks up the phone and speaks, “For Christ’s sake, hello?… Oh, yeah, hey. No, um… She’s right here. I was just… I lost my key and needed to call room service. Yeah, here she is.” He stops talking and hands me the phone.

  My mouth drops, praying the person on the other line is not who I think it is. Chase nods and mouths, it is, and I take the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Do I want to know?” Kristen’s bright and bubbly voice flows through.

  No, she surely does not.

  “Nothing to report. I think he’s doing a walk of shame. Smells like cheap perfume.” I look at Chase and wiggle my eyebrows, but he sadly doesn’t join in on the fun. He gets up and grabs for his clothes and begins dressing.

  “Huh, I wonder if Amber got her claws in him. Might wanna drill her later for details,” she says then starts yelling at her assistant about a missing banner.

  I sit up in bed, watching Chase dress while Kristen starts going on about the schedule for today. The entire time Chase refuses to look at me. I toss a pillow at him, trying to get his attention, but he simply turns, whispering he’s gotta get going, and then walks through the connecting door. And to my surprise, shuts it.

  What the fuck?

  Readers wait for no one. And apparently neither does Chase Green. I got off the phone with Kristen and got ready, thinking Chase would grab me to walk down, but to my surprise he was already gone. Not that I couldn’t go down by myself, but it was kind of our thing. Hold hands in the elevator until it opens and then release, walking away as if we were just two strangers.

  But today I was holding hands with no one. I walk to the ballroom and there’s already a line down the block and into the next state. I look over at Chase’s table, and he is already talking to someone, not even acknowledging me when I walk in.

  Was he really that upset with me over the whole insta-love thing? Could he actually be mad at me because I didn’t believe in all that fairytale bullshit? I want to storm over there and tell him to get his head out of his ass, and that love is never instant and it takes time and work to find the right one. Those books are make-believe. Romance at its fake best. Why would he be mad at me for just stating the truth? Because maybe he feels something stronger for you. I look back over at him just as he lifts his head. Our eyes meet. The corners of his lips rise in a small smile and he goes back to his fan. What am I missing here? He says he wants to get the girl in the end. Am I the girl? He believes it’s possible to have such strong connections in moments of meeting someone that could equate to insta-love. Am I that someone? No. Okay, I actually chuckle out loud. Clearly, I’m not that girl.

  I don’t get much more time to debate because my line is growing and I need to get to work. I spend the entire day hugging, signing books, and hearing stories of how readers gobbled up my book. It never does get old hearing the praises, even though you’re still not sure how you got here.

  The day is finally coming to an end and I’m able to take some time to sit and reminisce about the day. One reader in particular stood out. Her name was Emily. She was shy and waited patiently in line. When it was finally her turn, she came up and asked if she could hug me, and of course I said absolutely. I signed her book, and she told me how much she enjoyed my story. She then handed me a handmade wooden box. Confused at first at the strange gift, it wasn’t until she explained the reasoning for it that my heart swelled.

  Emily went on to explain it was a wish box made from an old oak tree from her childhood. When she was growing up, there was the most beautiful oak tree in her backyard. The tree was a place for her to hide when she needed to be alone, where she took her books to read, a place where she went to wish. She wished for everything under the sun when she was little. From a pink bike, to wishing her parents wouldn’t fight so much. She wished Derek from science would talk to her and that her mother would get better once she fell ill.

  Soon after she graduated high school, life took its course and her mother lost her life to cancer. She spent hours upon hours under that special wish tree, praying her mother finally found peace. That her father would be okay without her mom. That she would find reasoning in why life took her mother so young. This tree, it was a place where she felt solace.

  It wasn’t until she was in college that her father began struggling with the payments on the house and was forced to sell. A local contractor eager to buy up the land and surrounding area to build modern townhouses offered her father a price he couldn’t refuse and before she could argue, her childhood home was sold, along with her special tree. She spent days making calls, trying to find out who was in charge of the construction, but with no luck. The demolition was set to happen.

  She couldn’t see her tree be destroyed. All the memories and wishes she had made under that tree. She still had so many open wishes out there to come true. So, when the day of the demolition began, she did the only thing she could and chained herself to the tree. The construction crew yelled and demanded she get the hell away from the tree. They would call the cops. Have her arrested. But she didn’t care. She would have done anything to save her tree.

  It was when the contractor finally showed that her life changed forever. A tall man by the name of Charles Hanson came storming up to her, demanding she remove herself from that tree. She was costing him money by holding up his crew. He made it to her and the moment their eyes collided, it was love. He leaned into her, asking if she was all right. Yelled at his entire crew to back away from the tree and shut down all production for the day.

  Emily and Charles married a year later and she showed me pictures of their two beautiful children.

  She explained to me that Charles loved her so much that he did everything in his power to save that tree. He reworked his plans around the tree so his love would have her wish tree. It wasn’t until just last year that the tree caught a bug. Charles tried his best to save the tree, but it was too late and the city was forced to cut it down. It was a sad moment for her. Remembering all the times she spent under that tree, wishing, finding peace, loving life.

  Her husband did what he could to save pieces of her tree, and she spent her free time carving out special boxes from what her Charles salvaged.

  It was then I looked down at my special box in a different light. Emily finally explained to me that she had made the box especially for me. She said my book at times made her very sad. She hoped that in my own life I had found love. She told me she spent half her life wishing to find love. And the day Charles walked into her life, she knew her wish had come true.

  She wanted that for me.

  I couldn’t even fathom that someone thought so much about my life. Of course, I cried. To know there are such selfless people in this world made my heart swell. I wanted to wrap her up and take her home with me so her kindness would spread to everyone and everything in my life.

  Sadly, she told me she had to be home to get dinner ready for her kids and Charles, and I had to unlatch myself from her. We exchanged information because I insisted we keep in touch, and she was on her way.

  Her words stuck with me while I wrapped up the day and also while working with Amy, my assistant, on restocking my paperbacks. And when I stole glances at Chase, it made me think of what I would wish for.

  “How’d you do today?”

  I lift my head from straightening a pile of bookmarks to find Kristen jamming away on her phone. “It was hectic, but good hectic. You?”

&nb
sp; Not even missing a beat, she continues to fire off a message. “Girl, why didn’t I go to school to be a teacher or something?”

  “That good?”

  “Fire after fire. I had an author get drunk and vomit under her table. This was after she spent most of the day secretly handing out shots to readers. Now her publicist is in an uproar on why I pulled her. Two authors who just had to have their tables next to one another because they were inseparable got into it and now aren’t talking. Demanded one or hte other be moved. Mid signing! And now it’s been brought to my attention that one of the author’s models was basically having a threesome in the bathroom.”

  Of course, my eyes widen and shoot to Chase. He wouldn’t—

  “Oh, he wouldn’t. Chase is actually one of the decent models here. It’s that whore, Winston Mills. If you see him walking around, grab him and tell his skank ass he’s gone. Go figure, the author is also hiding him from me.”

  I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until it becomes apparent for me to breathe again. Chase must feel me staring at him because he turns, catching my stalkerish eyes. I want to pull away, but once those eyes latch onto mine, it’s almost impossible. Chase Green just has this way with me. A force I don’t know how to break. I continue to stare back at him, wishing I could walk across the hall and wrap myself in his arms. Tell him I’m sorry for being so selfish. I wish I could grow a large set of balls and tell him how I really feel about him. The way my body gravitates to him, his touch, his words. I wish… I wish… It’s then it clicks. I wish to be something to Chase. That’s what my wish would be. Chase is staring at me, curious about why I look like a light bulb just went off in my head, but I’m too busy thinking about how the second this signing is over, I’m going to do what I’ve never done before. I’m going to open up to him and be honest about how I feel.

  “You have a reader. I’ll catch up with you later. Horrible outdated movie and room service later? I can’t say I need to drink after last night.”

  I snap out of my epiphany to look to my right at a man standing in my line. I would agree to that shit. I nod, knowing all too well I plan on blowing her off. Because I have a date with Chase and the confessional later. She scurries off while I turn to my line.

  “Hi there, how are you?”

  The gentleman, tall and broody, doesn’t respond. He stands there looking at me while holding my book.

  “I’m Bailey, nice to meet you.” I proceed to stick out my hand, but he doesn’t take the bait. “Don’t be nervous. I’m just as nervous as you are. Did you want me to sign your book?” I smile, grabbing for my pen.

  The man finally steps forward, but instead of handing me the paperback he tosses it onto my table, knocking off books and disorganizing the bookmarks. I hear Amy squeal as a bunch of books fall over into her lap, and I jump back, completely caught off guard at his outlandish move.

  “Hey, that wasn’t very—”

  “Not nice? You know what’s not nice? This trash you wrote!” He finally speaks, his voice deep and menacing. He takes a predatory step toward me, while I take one back, knocking into my table. He’s seeping with anger, and it’s quickly unsettling for me. “This shit fucked with my wife. Your bullshit and lies you fed her.”

  “Sir, I doubt my book—”

  “She left me. Your bullshit book caused her to leave me. That bitch told me she was better than me.” He lifts his arm, swiping all the books off the table. Amy screams as I stumble over my two feet. I turn to get out of his personal space, but he’s too quick. His thick fingers latch around my neck as he begins to squeeze.

  “You think you can ruin lives for money, bitch?”

  His grip tightens. My legs begin to kick as my hands frantically try to rip his hands off my neck. I barely hear the commotion in the background as the air restriction takes effect. I try pleading with him to let me go, but no words escape. My hands get heavier and shear panic sets in. I’m seconds away from losing this battle.

  I’m giving it one last ditch effort to release myself, when in an instant, I’m thrown to the ground. Everything happens so fast, as hands grab for me, while I turn to see the man on the ground next to me, Chase on top of him, giving punch after punch.

  Dizziness is stopping me from crawling over to Chase to make him stop. Loud voices are everywhere as people run to see the commotion. Amy is on her knees next to me, trying to assess how bad I’m hurt. “Oh my God, Bailey, are you okay?”

  “Chase, get him to stop,” I groan, my voice hoarse.

  Amy doesn’t register, since I called him by his given name. I lift myself up, grabbing for my throbbing neck. I wince at the pain, but get to my feet. The rush of blood to my brain causes me to sway. I try to get to Chase just when security shows up, ripping him off my assailant. His chest is heaving and before he even composes himself, his wild eyes meet mine.

  It’s the frantic look in his eyes that finally causes me to acknowledge what just happened. The shock quickly wearing off, my lower lip begins to quiver. I break away to look at the man who’s still fighting the restraints of the security officers, his angry gaze glued to mine.

  Before I fully break down, Chase is lifting me into his arms.

  “Chase,” I whisper, as I lay my head into the nook of his neck, and he bulldozers through the curious crowd to get us away from my attacker and out of wandering eyes’ view. Opening up the door to the storage room used for storing all excess paperback boxes, Chase sits on a pile, cradling me in his arms.

  “Baby, are you okay? Let me see your face.” His voice is soft, but there’s a slight stutter to it. I pull away, and he begins inspecting my neck. A hiss travels up his throat, as he grazes his finger around my skin. “He’s fucking dead.”

  I don’t want to talk about that man. I want to snuggle deeper into the safety of his embrace.

  “Shhh, it’s okay. I got you. Don’t cry, baby,” he coos to me, bringing his hands around me, cocooning my body to his.

  I hadn’t realized I even started crying, but now that I’ve started I can’t seem to stop. With each sob, I inhale his comforting scent. His warmth surrounds me and in time I begin to settle.

  “Katie?”

  I lift my head, turning my sore neck toward Kristen standing a few feet away from us, two uniformed officers with her. “Hey, sorry. Something in my eye.”

  Kristen huffs at me, eliminating the space between us. “Oh, stop. This is serious. Are you okay?” She bends down to get a better look at me. Remembering I’m in Chase’s lap, I begin to squirm off, but his hold only tightens. Okay then. Not going anywhere.

  “Yeah. A little shaken up. Gonna have to find a fashion liking to scarves, I think, but other than that I’ll be okay.”

  Another eye roll, but somewhere in there is sympathy. “Katie, if you can be serious for like two seconds, these officers would like to ask you some questions.”

  I nod and try prying myself out of Chase’s arms. He’s hesitant to let me go, and Kristen visually notices it. She offers me a quick what’s this all about look, but I ignore her, trying to slap Chase’s hands off me.

  “Down, boy, she’ll be right back.” Kristen stands and grabs for my hand as I climb to my feet.

  I turn to give Chase a reassuring smile that I’m fine to meet with the law to give my statement.

  After spending a solid thirty minutes answering questions I really couldn’t answer, they sent me on my way. No, I didn’t know the man previously. No, I didn’t know his wife. No, I didn’t do anything to antagonize the lunatic for him to attack me.

  Chase stood by my side the entire time, his anger building with each ridiculous question they asked me. He eventually told them I’d had enough and needed to rest, pulling me away. Amy told me not to worry about my table mess and she would get it all cleaned up before tomorrow, so Chase led me back to my room, which I was thankful for. As tough as I was acting right now, going back to the crime scene this soon may have cracked my hard shell more than I would have liked.

 
Opening up my hotel room, I saunter in, throwing my purse on the bed. “Man, so looks like I can scratch being attacked by a psychopath off my bucket list.” I turn, and Chase is on me instantly. Lifting me in his arms and laying my back softly on the mattress.

  “No jokes.”

  “Since when did you become no fun?” I reply, not wanting to rehash this.

  “When I saw some fucking asshole attack you.” He brushes a piece of hair away from my face. His fingers brush against my bruised skin and his eyebrows scrunch with anger.

  “I’m fine. Seriously.”

  His eyes dip to my neck. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt. I can still feel you shaking.”

  “Chase,” I say his name, wanting to correct him, but I can also still feel the small tremors my body is creating over the attack.

  “No one’s going to think less of the big bad Katie for feeling upset. Scared. That should happen to no one.”

  I’m not liking that he won’t let it go. It scared me, yes. But I just want to drop it.

  “Katie, talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say? Yeah, it was messed up. He scared me. He just went off about how I was the one who made his wife leave him. Like as if. He clearly was a total jerk and his wife probably should have left him way before now.” Just as I didn’t want, I can feel myself getting worked up. I didn’t make that woman leave her husband. I’m not the cause of his distress.

  “You did nothing wrong, Katie.”

  Like he needs to tell me that. “I know I didn’t,” I reply, getting angry.

  “Then why are you getting upset?”

  “Because. He attacked me. He blamed me for his failures. And then fine, what if it’s my fault? What am I even doing here anyway? This isn’t me. This book thing is not—”

  Chase’s lips halt any further rant. He touches my mouth with his, kissing me gently. Once he feels me relax he pulls away. Bastard.

  “That’s all I get? I’ll keep ranting if you’re gonna stop.” He doesn’t offer me more of his luscious lips, but even his sexy chuckle is a reward. He brings his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks.