Page 25 of Chasing Secrets
Slowly, Jalen sank onto the edge of the bed. Chase sat on the window seat, watching his mate closely. Only two minutes had passed when he noticed Jalen’s leg bouncing like a rabbit mainlining Red Bull. His mate’s fingers had begun to tremble, and a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead despite the cool temperature of the room.
“It’s only been a few hours since your high wore off,” Chase said.
Jalen’s head snapped up, surprise and irritation warring in his expression. “What?”
“It’s not anxiety medication, is it?” He already knew the answer. “Tell me, Jalen. Why do you need them so badly?” This wasn’t just about drugs. Chase knew trauma when he saw it. His mate was running from something that had left scars so deep they’d never stopped bleeding.
What is hurting you so much that you feel you need this?
“What do you know about it?” Jalen wiped his sleeve across his forehead, leaving a damp streak on the fabric. “You with your perfect house and your perfect life.”
That was projection dripping with venom, but really it was Jalen’s own self-loathing clawing to the surface. He wanted Chase to lash back, to prove him right, to confirm that no one could ever understand.
This was about wounds, not weakness. And the wolf in him was pacing, desperate to rip apart whatever monster carved those scars into his mate’s soul.
“I’ve seen addiction before,” he said. “Been around long enough to bury people I loved because of it.”
The memories still cut fresh—all those late-night phone calls, the promises made in shaking voices, the empty rehab beds. No matter how many times he’d thrown them a rope, the current always pulled stronger. Coffins. Lost faces. He was carrying graves inside him, and the second he’d seen his mate with that bottle, all those ghosts were howling.
No way in hell he was letting that happen to Jalen. Call him an asshole for taking that choice away from his mate, but Chase would be dead and buried before he stood by and watched Jalen destroy his life.
Not on his fucking watch.
Jalen stared incredulously at him. “Addiction? Is that what you think this is?” His voice rose, taking on a frantic edge. “This is survival. This is the only way I can function without...” He trailed off, swallowing hard. Tears brimmed his eyes. One fell, but Jalen angrily swiped it away. “It’s been five minutes,” he lied, glancing at the clock.
“It’s been two,” Chase corrected gently. “What happens when you don’t take them?”
When his mate tried to open the bottle, Chase swiped it away.
“Give them back!” Jalen threw himself at Chase, fists pounding against his chest. Each blow landed with surprising force, driven by desperation rather than strength.
“Jalen, stop.” Chase caught his wrists, trying to still the flailing limbs. “This isn’t the answer.”
“You don’t know jack shit!” Jalen’s voice rose to a near-scream, tears beginning to streak down his flushed face. “You don’t know what I need!”
A burning sensation formed in Chase’s throat as he watched his mate unravel before him. Without thinking, he pulled Jalen against his chest, wrapping his arms around the struggling man.
“I hate you,” Jalen spat, voice muffled against Chase’s shoulder. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”
“I know,” he murmured into Jalen’s hair. “Hate me as much as you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t understand.” Jalen’s voice cracked, his struggles weakening. “You can’t... you can’t make me face it without them. Don’t you… don’t do this to me, Chase. I’m begging you!”
“Face what?” he asked, his voice low against Jalen’s hair.
The question broke something open. Jalen’s body went slack, a sob tearing from his throat so raw it seemed to scrape against the air itself.
Chase tightened his hold, holding his mate for as long as Jalen needed him to.
“My uncle,” Jalen choked out, each word seeming to cost him dearly. “He... he’s been... since I was fourteen.” His voice cracked, dissolving into ragged sobs.
Every syllable sounded like jagged glass slicing his mate’s throat on the way out.
A cold weight settled in Chase’s stomach as the implication of those words sank in. His arms tightened around his mate instinctively, protectively as they both sank to the floor.
“The pills make it stop,” Jalen continued, words tumbling out between hitching breaths. “They make me forget. They make everything numb. I can’t... I can’t face it without them. I can’t face him.”
“Face him?” Chase pulled back slightly, looking down at Jalen’s tear-streaked face. “You mean he’s still—”
