Page 100 of Broken on the Mountain
"Fair," Travis admits, nodding.
"Chase." Jamie's voice cuts through my spiraling. He steps closer, gripping my shoulder the way he does before sending someone into a dangerous rescue. "Stop overthinking. Just be yourself."
The words hit different than they did at Fox Hollow, back when I first started to doubt this would ever work.
Just be yourself.
Not the guy who washed out of basic training. Not the guy whose family left. Not the guy who's never been anyone's first choice.
Just... me.
I look at Jamie. "You sure about the suit?"
"Positive."
I grab the travel bag from Charlie and make for the front door. "Thanks, man."
"Anytime." He raises his cocktail in a salute. "Now, go! And bring our girl back!"
Travis claps me on the back hard enough to rattle my teeth. "And for God's sake, tell her you love her this time!"
My face heats as Betty, Etta and Mabel all cheer from the other side of the room. "I never told you I loved her."
"You didn't have to," Knox says. "We have eyes."
I check my phone and Brooke's sent me the address.
Brooke:Seventh floor ballroom. Valet parking. Don't let them intimidate you.
I smile across the room at her and head for the door.
Behind me, the tavern erupts. I head into the parking lot, the cold night air hitting my face like a slap. My truck is parked under the street lights.
I climb in, toss Charlie's food bag on the passenger seat, and start the engine.
I've got one night to drive across state lines, find a hotel ballroom full of people who probably think mountain rescue is something you do with Saint Bernards, and convince the woman I love that she doesn't have to choose between her family and her happiness.
That she can have both.
That shedeservesboth.
I pull out of the parking lot, and in the rearview mirror, I can see them all standing in the doorway of Timber Tavern. Jamie and Brooke, Knox and Travis, Charlie with his ridiculous cocktail, Betty and the gossips all waving like I'm heading off to war.
My family.
The people who didn't leave.
The people who are sending me to fight for the person I want to keep.
Hold on, Piper. I'm coming.
Chapter Twenty
Piper
The Whitman Foundation Annual Gala unfolds around me like a perfectly choreographed performance I've watched my entire life but never wanted to star in.
Crystal chandeliers drip light across the ballroom like liquid diamonds. The ceiling soars three stories high, and white-gloved waiters glide between clusters of Chicago's elite society, offering champagne in flutes so delicate they look like they'd shatter if you breathed on them wrong.
