Page 104 of Broken on the Mountain
Behind me, I hear Mother's sharp intake of breath and Maxwell's confused murmur as he comments about me being 'off' all night.
I don't care.
I burst through the doors, and thankfully, the terrace is completely empty. I move straight to the rails and hold on tight, the wind whipping across me as the Chicago skyline glitters against the night sky.
I grip the railing and breathe. In for six, out for four. Just like Chase taught me.
What am I doing here?
Why did I come back?
Why did I choose this instead of him?
My phone buzzes in the tiny clutch I'm carrying. I pull it out.
Brooke:How's the gala?
I stare at the message. It was sent an hour ago. I start typing back.
Me:Exactly as awful as expected. Maxwell just assumed we're getting married.
Three dots appear immediately.
Brooke:OMG! Get out of there!!!
Me:I can't just leave. Mother would never forgive me. I'm wearing the boots though. No one knows and it's the only thing keeping me sane.
Brooke:See! You can leave! You're wearing hiking boots to a black-tie gala, Piper. You're already halfway to rebellion. Just take the next step! We're all cheering for you!
A photo pops up on the screen, and for a second, my breath catches.
It’s the crew at Timber Tavern, crowded into one of those leather booths that’s definitely too small for mountain people. Brooke’s grinning beside Jamie, who’s holding up a beer like he’s toasting the camera. Beau looks like someone dragged him there against his will, but Molly’s tucked into his side, laughing. And Knox—oh my God, Knox is wearing Etta’s cat-eye glasses! Striking a pose so ridiculous it makes me snort out loud.
Travis, of course, is mid-eye-roll, but even he’s smiling.
It’s perfect.
Almost.
Because one face is missing.
My thumb hovers over the screen, zooming in like maybe I missed him. Maybe Chase is lurking in the background, near the bar or the dartboard. But he’s not.
I hope he’s okay.
The wind bites against my bare shoulders, but I don’t move. I stare at the message, biting my lip as I contemplate my entire life.
Just take the next step.
I'm about to respond with my own selfie when I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
"There you are."
I turn, expecting Maxwell or Mother or another society drone ready to pull me back into the performance.
Instead, I see him.
"Chase?"
