Chapter 63 :

Chapter 63 :
\-ZOEY ASHFORD-

The whole thing happened so fast. One second, I was turning away, and the next, Chase’s hand gripped my arm and yanked me backward and hard.

The sound of screeching tires echoed in my ears as the motorcycle sped past, missing me by inches.

My heart pounded so fast it hurt. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I just clung to him, my fingers gripping his shirt tightly like my life depended on it.

So many things flashed through my mind. Myself, the baby I'm carrying and Mariah.

I thought this would be my end.. that I was going to die.

“I..I thought I was going to die,” I muttered shakily against his chest.

His arm stayed firm around me, but his voice was sharp.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

I looked up at him, still trembling. “What?”

He gave me a hard look.

“You couldn’t just get in the car, could you? You had to be stubborn.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but a sharp pain shot through my ankle.

“Ah! wait.” I winced, pulling slightly away.

“What now?” he asked, his tone halfway between what I can't tell and concern.

“My ankle,” I hissed. “I think I twisted it.”

He sighed—long and deep—then bent down without another word. Before I could protest, he scooped me up in his arms like I weighed nothing.

“Chase!” I exclaimed, hitting his shoulder lightly. “Put me down!”

“Yeah, so you can fall flat on your face next?” he shot back.

I shut up after that.

He carried me back inside the apartment, pushing the door open with his shoulder. I could feel his heartbeat under my hand, steady but quick, and it made something inside me twist uncomfortably.

When he set me down gently on the couch, he crouched in front of me, brushing his hair back with one hand.

“Do you even think before you do things?” he started. “You walk off without looking. You argue when someone’s trying to help. You act like you don’t need anyone, but the second something happens, you freeze.”

I frowned. “Are you seriously giving me a lecture right now?”

“Yes, because apparently you need one,” he said bluntly. “You think being strong means pushing everyone away. It doesn’t. You could’ve gotten yourself killed out there.”

I looked down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

He exhaled through his nose. “No, but I came anyway.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he reached out, carefully taking hold of my ankle. I flinched a little.

“Relax,” he muttered. “I’m just checking it.”

His hands were warm and surprisingly gentle. He pressed lightly around the swollen spot, his thumb moving in slow circles to ease the tension.

I bit my lip, trying not to react, but the warmth from his touch made my chest feel tight again.

“Does it hurt here?” he asked quietly.

“Not… not much,” I said, my voice smaller than I intended.

He nodded, continuing the soft massage for another minute before letting go.

“You’ll be fine. Don’t walk around too much.”

He stood, grabbed his car keys, and said, “I’ll go get your groceries. Stay put.”

And then he was gone.

I sighed deeply. Perhaps he's right because I could have gotten myself killed because of my carelessness and stubbornness.

________________

Thirty minutes later, I was still on the couch, ankle propped up on a pillow, pretending to watch TV. I wasn’t even paying attention to what was on the screen when the door opened again.

Chase walked in carrying two grocery bags, expression as unreadable as ever. Without saying a word, he placed them on the counter, then came over and handed me a plate with sliced apples.

“Eat something,” he said simply before heading back to the kitchen to unpack the groceries.

I stared at the plate, then at his back as he moved around quietly. Something in me stirred. Tge questions I’d buried for so long were clawing their way back to the surface.

I set the plate down and stood, limping a little as I made my way toward him.

“Chase.”

He paused mid-motion, not turning around. “What?”

“I need to ask you something.”

He kept arranging the items in the fridge. “Go on.”

“Why did you betray me?”

That made him stop. His hand froze on a carton of juice, but he still didn’t turn. The silence that followed was heavier than I expected.

“Zoey,” he finally said, voice low. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

That stung. “You don’t owe me an explanation?”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “It took everything in me to stand here and ask you that. You left me, Chase. You walked out on me when I needed you the most. At the courthouse, you...” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. “You didn’t even show up”

He still didn’t turn around. “Go rest,” he said quietly. “You shouldn’t be having unnecessary thoughts or questions right now.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Unnecessary thoughts? Is that what this is to you?”

He finally shut the refrigerator and faced me. His expression was calm, too calm.

“Some questions,” he said, “aren’t meant to be answered.”

That was it. No remorse. No emotion. Just that.

I felt something in me snap. “Fine,” I said tightly. “When you’re done arranging my groceries, leave.”

“Zoey..”

“I mean it,” I cut in, turning away. “Just leave.”

I limped back to my room, refusing to let him see the tears burning at the corners of my eyes.

He didn’t stop me. And that, somehow, hurt the most.

\-CHASE BLUE-

When I finally walked out, the silence followed me all the way to my car. The drive back home felt endless. Every red light mocked me, every passing street reminded me of something I’d ruined.

By the time I got into my room, I didn’t even bother turning on the lights. I just pulled off my shirt and stared at the scar on my lower abdomen.

That ugly mark. That constant reminder of what happened.

It burned sometimes, especially when I thought of her. I traced my fingers over it and closed my eyes, remembering everything I’d tried so hard to bury—the hospital room, the words I swore I’d never repeat, the choice that ripped everything apart.

Zoey doesn’t know.

She can’t know.

If she ever finds out the truth, it’ll break her in ways I’ll never be able to fix. And maybe that’s why I have to keep lying, keep pretending I don’t care, keep pushing her away. Because the truth isn’t something she deserves to carry.