Page 88 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

But Chase stomps right behind me, meeting me in front of the car. Her voice is now a near-shriek. “I never should have trusted you to take over the subscriber campaign. It was too important. Now look where we are! We missed another goal today.”

Her words set something off in me. All the pent-up frustration I’ve been holding back for years rushes out like a volcano erupting. “Every time something goes wrong, whenever there’s a hiccup or a screw-up, who’s the first person you look at? Me. Every damn time, it’s me. And I’m sick of it. I’m not a punching bag for your fucking failures and frustrations!”

Chase steps closer, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Excuse me?”

I don’t back down. My heart’s pounding, but I can’t hold back anymore. “How about you take a good, hard look in the mirror? Because the problem isn’t just with me. It’s with you too. You don’t trust anyone. You never let people in, and refuse to rely on anyone but yourself. That’s why you’re alone. You push everyone away because you can’t let go of control for even a second.”

“This isn’t about trust. It’s about competence,” Chase spits back. “Something you’re sadly lacking, along with talent.”

Her words twist like a knife in my gut.

“You’re nothing but a talentless fuckboy with a pretty face. I made you the ‘King of Christmas.' So enjoy your fame and the endless parade of one-night stands while it lasts. It’s all you’ll ever be good for.”

Something inside me snaps. “Ice queen to your fucking core,” I snarl. “Or should I call you by your other on-set nickname? Bitch.”

SMACK!

The sharp sound of Chase’s hand meeting my cheek cuts through the night air. The sting radiates across my face, a small twinge compared to the pain in my chest. We stand there, breaths ragged, the weight of our words lingering between us like a toxic mist.

What have we done?

The officer clears his throat. “Right. Chathan, you’re both under arrest. Hands behind your backs.”

***

Jail cell, three daysbefore Christmas? There’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming.

Christmas in the slammer wasn’t on my vision board. Then again, nothing about this trip has gone as planned. I squirm on this rock-hard bench, my ass going numb. The stench in here is a blend of stale sweat and harsh lemon disinfectant, enough to make anyone feel sick. Or maybe it’s the guilt twisting me up inside.

I glance at Chase, perched on the other bench. She’s facing away, arms wrapped tight, her body language screaming,Keep away. I notice the tiny tremor in her shoulders. She’s crying. Silently, but definitely crying.

I’m to blame for this.The words I hurled at her earlier are echoing in my ears, each one feeling like another nail in the coffin of the fragile trust we’d started to establish.

“Ice queen.” “Bitch.”

God, I’m such an asshole.

But then her words cut through my self-loathing, feeling as brutal as when she first said them.

“Talentless fuckboy… Nothing but a pretty face…”

No. I’m not letting myself dive down that rabbit hole of insecurities. Not now. Not when Chase is crumbling right in front of me.

I’m still processing what she said, especially the anguish in her voice when she talked about her mother’s death. After all these years of working together, I never knew Chase was hiding such deep wounds. While I was living in a bubble of unconditional love, she was learning to survive on her own.

Chase built herself up from nothing. She had no safety net or family support when things went wrong. It was just her against the world, fighting for success step by difficult step. I can’t imagine not having the constant encouragement of my family to cushion every fall.

Something primitive stirs in my chest. The need to hold her, to somehow pour twenty years of missed love into one embrace.I want to be her soft landing, her safe harbor, her whatever-the-hell she needs, whenever she needs it.

I want to be everything the world never gave her.

Not because she needs to be saved, but because everyone deserves someone who will catch them when they fall.

If only I knew how to tell her that without making things worse.

Only one way to find out, dumbass.

“Chase, I—”

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