“That’ll be the day, sweetheart. Not sure that’s in the cards for me. To answer your question, nope. I haven’t heard from him. Want me to swing around the house or his hotel for you? You know how involved he gets in work. Sometimes he forgets what he needs to do besides work. Let me close up the shop, then I’ll go look for him. I’m sure he’s okay though,” Fox reassures me. There’s still that sinking feeling inside me. What if he got hurt? What if he retreated inside himself again? I really hate these what-ifs.
“Thank you, I’d greatly appreciate that. I guess I’ll head home and wait to hear from you.” I’m trying to keep my voice calm and collected, but inside, I’m breaking down.
“It’s alright, kiddo. Get out of the office, go home, and relax. We’ll get ahold of him.” I hum my agreement, get off the phone, and close down our office for the night. My only thoughts are to go home, open a bottle of wine, soak in the tub, and pray to God my insecurities are just that, mine to own.
When Chance and I moved in together, the biggest shock of my life happened. Bridger came and offered to help. I was waiting for him to give Chance the talk, you know, the ‘That’s my sister. I’ll cut your balls off and bury you in the backyard’ talk. He didn’t though. Bridger and our parents helped me move in; they even welcomed Chance into the fold. I think Mom was the most excited to see me settle down, especially because her health wasn’t doing all that well not too long ago. She made statements that her only wish was to see all of her kids happily married with a child or two. And at the rate Chance and I’ve been going, that will most definitely happen. Not that I’m not on birth control, because I most definitely am, but that’s been known to fail a time or two, and it’d be fate if Chance had super sperm.
I’m on autopilot as I head out the door to my car and make it home, locked inside my head the whole time. God, I’m a mess. It’s been maybe thirty minutes since I’ve spoken to Fox, and my patience is definitely waning if he found Chance or not.
The house is quiet. The lights are off except the one in the living room that I left on this morning before leaving the house. I don’t bother with turning any others on, even though the sun is slowly fading. My only thought is kicking off my shoes, discarding my clothes, and climbing in the jetted bathtub.
Once I grab a wine glass and a bottle of wine, I head for the master suite. Our home is a perfect mesh of his and my furniture. The leftovers are stored in the garage until we can figure out if we’ll need them or if they’ll be donated.
The water is on. I’m stepping out of my heels, pulling off the sweater dress I wore today, already craving the sun and sand in South Carolina. For now, the hot tub will have to do.
My phone vibrates, almost falling into the bathtub I’m now in. That would be the icing on the cake. I look down at the screen and see Chance’s name.
“Chance,” I breathe through the phone.
“Damn, baby. It sure is good to hear your voice.”
“You can say that again. Are you okay? It’s so unlike you not to answer your phone, and it’s not like you’re in town or I’m with you. I won’t even lie and say I wasn’t worried either, about so many things. Oh God, Chance, I’m a mess.” I tuck myself into my body, my head resting on my knees as I let everything out.
“Peyton, you’re not a mess, and I wish like hell I was there to hold you, but I’m about to board the plane. I’m coming home, baby. Fox can handle the shit that’s going on down here. You’re my priority. Now, tell me you’re going to be okay,” Chance demands. He causes me to laugh. It’s so typical of him.
“I promise I’ll be okay. How are you getting home from the airport?” I redirect the question because I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to stay awake long enough to pick him up.
“I’ll grab a car. You get in bed, baby. When I get in, I’ll wake you up. And, Peyton?”
“Yes,” I croak out.
“You own every piece of me, my heart, my soul. Don’t forget that.” I want to tell him those three words, something both of us should have said by now, but I was too much of a weenie to do so. And Chance doesn’t have to say it—he shows me his love in every way imaginable.