Page 26 of Stealing Chances

I didn’t go with him.

I just sagged against the hallway wall and tried to soothe the intense emotions that had built so swiftly.

“I didn’t touch it,” Chase said when he entered the hallway again. “And Brandon never went past the kitchen this morning.”

“Then who—”

“I don’t know, Scarlet,” he said over me as he started through the living room, only to stop. After long seconds, he met my stare. “I know I’m hurting you. But I wouldn’t dothat.”

Once he was gone, I slid down the wall until I was on the floor with my knees tucked close to my chest and my face buried in my hands.

I hated that I didn’t know how to believe him, even though I could hear the honesty in his voice. But there was no other practical explanation for where the photo had gone.

I hated that I didn’t know how to be in a room with him and have this distance between us. Or have him look at me like I wasnothingto him when he used to look at me like I waseverything.

I hated that I didn’t know how to handle the bitterness and resentment that bled from him and reached out to me. That I didn’t feelstrong enoughto.

I hated that I still wanted to run...

With a shuddering exhale, I let my head rest against the wall and tried to suppress the jolt that went through me when I noticed him standing there.

Watching me.

“Thought you were coming with me,” he said, voice soft. “To search the guestroom or something.”

“Well, if you did take it, now I know not to look there.” I tried to deliver the words on a tease, but they came out dull and lacked any humor.

Chase dipped his head in a nod but just continued standing there for a while before hesitantly asking, “You hungry?”

A saddened laugh slipped past my lips at the familiar question, and my eyes rolled as I stood. “We’re not ordering Chinese,” I said on a sigh. “I’ll make something.”

“Who said I wanted Chinese?”

I swayed when my feet became one with the floor. The pain in my chest so sudden and brutal that it felt impossible to breathe.

“I do,” he said cautiously. “I was going to suggest it. I was just wondering how you knew that.”

“Really?” My head had snapped to the side as he’d spoken, the smallest spark of hope blooming as I searched his expression.

But his eyes just narrowed as if he was still trying to figure out how I could’ve possibly known.

“It’s your go-to whenever I’m mad at you,” I informed him as that hope grew, my voice shaky when I added, “Because it’s my favorite.”

“Oh.” His stare drifted to the side, and I could see he wastrying.

Trying so hard to take what I’d said and fit it to anything...but the frustration and helplessness when he looked at me again told me enough.

He didn’t remember.

“It’s something,” I whispered encouragingly.

He lifted his good hand before letting it fall. “It’s food.”

My lips parted, but nothing left them as I watched him stalk away, all that defeated aggravation trailing behind him.

Swiping my hands over my stomach, I held on to that hope and followed to where he was staring into the refrigerator.

Grabbing the handle of the door he was holding, I began closing it, my movements slowing when he spoke.

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