“On the call, the dispatcher said there was one known injury. Who was it?”
“Arnie Power. He tried to put out the fire with an extinguisher before we showed up. Some flames got his arm and gave him second-degree burns. Before they took him to the hospital, he was already bragging about battle scars.”
Laurel laughed softly. “I’m glad he’s okay.”
“Me, too.”
“Do you think he saw anything?”
“I’ll check with Ryder. Good thinking.”
They shared an easy smile, one that made her forget this wasn’t normal. “I better grab that shower.”
The shower was the easy part, even if she did end up smelling like Chase’s body wash. The boxes were another story. She dressed in the first acceptable outfit she could find and closed the box back up. If stupid clothes could make her tear up, what would the rest of the contents do to her?
She peeked out the kitchen window, watching Chase toss a ball to Zeus. The dog had masses of energy. It amazed her that he could sprint like a rocket and still spend all night cuddled up with her on the couch, hardly moving a muscle. He was the perfect dog. The one they’d always wanted to find.Keep Chase happy, buddy.
While the two continued to play outside, Laurel carried the boxes one and two at a time to her car parked half a block down the street. She’d stayed out of the driveway last night to give everyone else decent parking. But she didn’t mind the exercise now, and welcomed the way it sharpened her resolve.
When the dining room was empty of her stuff, she took the stairs two at a time. She didn’t want to alert Chase. He would offer to help or insist she come back another time to go through it here. And she’d let him talk her into it. If there were any other boxes of her things, she’d find them on her own.
The first door on the left was open again. The same door Chase had caught her about to open the other evening and distracted her with wonderful, breath-stealing kisses. He’d saved her from facing the pain. It didn’t matter if the walls were still the same soft yellow or if he’d converted it into an office. She would still see a nursery.
With a deep breath, she pushed it open and gasped.
A beautiful cedar log crib stood directly across from the open door, near the main window. Chase had found the design online after they found out they were pregnant and been determined he would build one like it. One they would use not only for their first, but all of their kids to follow. She never imagined he would carry through with the project after they lost the baby. Tears stung her eyes as she ran her fingers along the smooth wood. Had he built it because he wanted to try again?
Laurel couldn’t breathe.
She shouldn’t be in here.
Backpedaling to the door, she ran squarely into Chase’s chest. “Hey,” he said, turning her into his arms and brushing away her tears. “I didn’t want you to see it this way. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
She wanted to give in and cry while he held her. In his embrace it was impossible to feel alone. But that desire was completely selfish. She pushed her palm flat against his chest, but he didn’t loosen his hold. “I have to go.”
“Laurel—”
“Please, let me go.” She wriggled free and hurried down the steps, grabbing her phone on the way out the door. Her heart nearly cracked in two when she spotted Zeus staring in the window after her.
Chapter Twelve
Chase
Chase entered the grocery store, on the hunt for both a bottle of wine to bring to dinner and the biggest bag of frosted animal cookies he could find for Haylee. He doubted any other Evans knew he’d been invited to their Sunday family dinner, but hopefully the wine would keep him from getting kicked out the second he showed up.
After Laurel left him standing in the doorway yesterday, Chase felt defeated. He was certain that her finding the crib on her own had demolished his chances of convincing her to stay married, especially since she sent his calls straight to voicemail and ignored his texts. But that afternoon, he received an Instagram message from Haylee, and his hope renewed.
She promised she had a plan, and he needed to be there for it to work.
Tonight was his last chance to change Laurel’s mind.
He spent an excessive amount of time debating the wine choice. Laurel had always handled that, leaving him to scour the shelves for vaguely familiar labels and hoping he didn’t mess it up. Because he couldn’t decide between a white or red, he grabbed one of each. Whether or not they were decent selections would soon be determined.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he exited the store, which was why he didn’t see the woman he crashed into until it was too late. He recovered his briefly airborne cell as her purse slid off her arm and thudded against the pavement, some of the contents spilling out.
In a miraculous but awkward ninja maneuver, he kept hold of the wine bottles. Haylee’s cookies might be more crushed than she was used to, but it was better than a wet bag full of broken glass. “I’m so sorry—” Only now did Chase see who it was. “Mrs. Davenport, I apologize. I wasn’t watching—”
“Crissy. My name’s Crissy. I hate being calledMrs. Davenport. I’m only thirty-six, you know. Way too young to feel like some old crone.” Her words spilled out quickly with exasperation as she crouched to gather the scattered contents. “Don’t suppose you finished that report?”
