“Everything would be different,” I continue. “You were on that ladder because of me. Because I went after her instead of being where I needed to be. I’d already missed so much in Europe…” I blow out a breath and drop my head onto the chair back. “At the time I thought she betrayed me and kept me from helping you. You lost so fucking much because I was chasing her. You were right. I fucking acted like my dad, and you almost died because of it.”

A beat passes before wicker drags over brick. The scraping ends, and Colt drops into the chair he moved to be beside mine. He won’t look at me, but he’s here. Like he always is when I need him to be.

I take a hit and roll my head to see Chase on my other side. His jaw muscles are rippling beneath the skin, and he leaves me with his profile.

“First of all, you’re nothing like that man. Next up, almost.” Then he looks at me. “I almost died. I didn’t. I’m here.” He huffs a laugh, not amused but more matter-of-fact. “Nothing that happened was your fault, Foster. I told you that. This was the problem.” He taps his fingers against his temple. “My brain was the enemy. The call was coming from inside the house.”

Shaking my head, I lower my gaze. “And I should have⁠—”

“What?” he says, cutting me off. “Stayed at my side twenty-four-seven? Diagnosed me? Fuck, brother. I didn’t know what was going on, why the fuck would you?” He swipes my bottle cap off the table between us and tosses it over my head, so it lands on Colton. “You listening, fuckface? Because it’s been a minute since you heard this shit too.”

Colton’s stoic and locked down, but his eyes flick to mine for a second. He blames himself for letting Chase climb the ladder, and I always counter I’m the reason he wanted to. We both missed the signs Chase was battling with something. Colt realized it that night before they left the bar, but he has his own hindsight to deal with—calls and texts with Chase while we were in Europe.

Chase sighs. “I have bipolar disorder. Chances are I wouldn’t have gotten treated until something happened. So, if it wasn’t that ladder that night, it could have been a million other things during an episode. I won’t blow rainbows up your dick and claim I wouldn’t change anything. What happened fucking sucks, and most of the world is not built for a paraplegic. But I survived. I adjust. I’m living. I went back to school and landed an easy-as-fuck job that pays more than rock star bodyguard.”

Colt snorts and mumbles an, “Asshole,” which could apply to me or Chase at the moment.