Page 164 of The Baby Bargain
I can see it's more than that. That you're sure you have the weight of the world on your shoulders. That you're just as martyr complex as Matt Murdock—the picture of Catholic guilt. And you're not even religious.
So you're either fucked up or depressed.
Or both.
Though "fucked up" is about as accurate a diagnosis as "plagued by mommy issues."
Even though I know it's hopeless, I want to save you. Or at least break through your walls, teach you how to love again, prove that your love is the best thing in the world.
Even as I try to come up with tactful ways to say "hey, Chase, get over your need to save people," I keep thinking of ways to save you.
I'm officially bonker balls.
That's not in the DSM V, but maybe it should be.
You see, I'm not ending this. Just clarifying it. I still want your, ahem, donations.
But that's all.
No, I want more. I want everything.
I can't have everything.
So it's going to have to be donations or nothing.
I just have to find a way to phrase that. Tact isn't my strong suit. I know you appreciate my honesty, but something tells me you won't appreciate "Chase, I'm falling in love with you. You're obviously a mess, so please stop being all sweet and caring and protective so I can stop falling in love with you."
Yeah, that's not going to fly.
I'm going to think of something.
I'm going to redefine our boundaries.
I'm going to figure this out.
Somehow.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Ariel
"Hey." Skye nodshellofrom her spot on the couch. She's watching a gritty TV drama and she's the picture of comfort. Like this is her house. Like she could die here.
"Where's Forest?"
She nods to the stairs. "Shower."
The water is running. That makes sense. Sorta. "What are you—"
"If I'm in your way—" She hits pause on the remote and motions to the doorI can leave.
I shake my head. I don't want her to leave. She's always been like a big sister to me. And if she leaves, it's just Forest and his suspicion that I'm fucking Chase.
I'm a terrible liar most of the time.
When every part of me is aching?
Uh… pass.
