All Chapters of Bound By Chaos: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

33 Chapters

Chapter Ten (Libby)

Emma swings my hand as we walk down the sidewalk, counting cracks in the concrete out loud like it’s a very serious job.“Twenty-three, twenty-four—Libby, does this count as one crack or two?”“One,” I say automatically, my mind elsewhere.The envelope sits in my bag, pressing against my hip with every step. I keep checking that it’s still there, fingers brushing the zipper like reassurance.The apartment manager’s office smells the same as always—stale coffee, old carpet, something faintly sour. Emma sits in the plastic chair by the wall, feet swinging, humming to herself while I step up to the desk.“I’m here to pay,” I say.The words come out steadier than I expect.He looks surprised. “All of it?”“Yes.”I count out the cash carefully. Rent. Late fees. Everything that’s been hanging over us like a storm cloud I couldn’t outrun. My hands don’t shake. Not this time.He counts it. Nods. Prints a receipt and slides it across the desk.“You’re good,” he says. “Marked paid.”Paid.I tuc

Chapter Eleven (Libby)

The front door slams open so hard the walls shake. I bolt upright with a gasp, heart instantly in my throat.“Emma!” I whisper. I scramble, panic exploding through me as reality crashes back in all at once. Matteo. My bed. The fact that I am very much not alone and very much not dressed.“Oh my God—oh my God—”I trip over my own feet trying to grab my sweatshirt, nearly face-planting into the dresser as I yank it over my head. My jeans are inside out. I don’t care. I shove them on anyway, hopping awkwardly on one foot.Behind me, Matteo sits up far more calmly than a man should in this situation. We didn’t have sex last night, but we did do a lot of making hot, dry humping, and oral sex. I’m not ready to have sex yet, and I’m thankful that Matteo understood that and didn’t pressure me for more. “Libby,” he says, voice rough with sleep but completely steady, “breathe.”I shoot him a look that says this is not the time.He swings his legs over the side of the bed, unhurried, pulling hi

Chapter Twelve (Matteo)

The store is quiet, lights dimmed low, the scent of paper and dust and something faintly sweet lingering in the air. Libby is at the counter counting the drawer, brow furrowed in concentration, hair pulled back in that way that makes something restless coil low in my chest.“You’re scowling,” I say, flipping the sign to Closed.“I’m concentrating.”“Same face.”She shoots me a look. “I do not scowl.”“You absolutely do,” I grin. “It’s very intimidating. I’m afraid to miscount near you.”She snorts despite herself. “You’re annoying.”“Yet you tolerate me.”“Barely.”I lean against the counter, close enough to feel her warmth. “I made pancakes this morning. I think that bought me goodwill.”She rolls her eyes, smiling despite herself. “I’m sure Emma will never stop talking about it.”“Chef Emma deserves recognition too.”She shakes her head with a laugh and slides the drawer shut. “I just need to finish the deposit.”“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say lightly. “Try not to miss me.”

Chapter Thirteen (Libby)

I wake up already braced.My body feels like it’s been holding its breath all night, muscles tight, jaw sore from clenching. For a second, I don’t know where I am. All I remember is that something bad happened and I survived it.Then the memory snaps into place. I remember the bookstore, the sound of the thief and I’s bodies hitting shelves, and then the look on Matteo’s face.I sit up too fast and have to pause, hand pressed to my chest until my heart slows enough to listen to me again.In the kitchen, I make coffee I don’t really want and stare at the wall while it brews. My hands shake when I lift the mug. I wrap both palms around it, letting the heat anchor me.I hate that I froze. I hate that part of me knew, logically, that Matteo saved me, that he stopped the man, that he never once touched me in anger, and I hate even more that none of that mattered to my body. All it saw was a man losing control and all it heard was the echo of a night I try very hard not to remember.My fath

Chapter Fourteen (Matteo)

The bell over the door rings, soft and familiar. I don’t look up right away. I’m halfway through re-taping a cracked dust jacket, the store quiet in that end-of-day way where everything feels suspended—like if I move too fast, I’ll break the calm.“Hey,” someone says.The voice lands wrong. Too familiar. Too careful. I look up. Mariela stands just inside the doorway, hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She’s dressed simply—jeans, boots, hair loose around her shoulders. Not polished. Not trying too hard. My chest tightens anyway.“Oh,” I say.She smiles, tentative. “Hi.”For a second, neither of us moves. The space between us fills with all the conversations we never finished, all the things we said too late or not at all.“This place is…” She trails off, turning slowly, taking in the shelves, the reading nook, the warm glow of the lamps. “It’s really beautiful.”“Thanks,” I say automatically.“It suits you,” she adds. “Quiet. Though

Chapter Fifteen (Libby)

Matteo isn’t there.I notice it immediately, even though I tell myself I won’t. The front door chimes, I look up out of habit, and the space behind the counter stays occupied only by Luca and a stack of returns.Something in my chest loosens, something else aches, and both feelings surprise me. I busy myself with the small things first. Straightening bookmarks. Wiping the counter that doesn’t really need it. Re-shelving a book I already put away once. The bookstore feels steadier today, like the memory of the robbery has settled into the walls instead of clinging to my skin.I can breathe and still, every time the bell rings, part of me checks. He doesn’t come. By midafternoon, I stop pretending I don’t know why that matters.I think about the basket.The way I stood outside the window longer than I should have, convincing myself I was imagining the intimacy between Matteo and the woman inside. The way I told myself it didn’t hurt, that I had no right to feel anything at all.I pictur

Chapter Sixteen (Matteo)

I’m cooking Chef Boyardee. Emma stands on a chair at the stove like she’s my sous-chef, wearing one of Libby’s old T-shirts as an apron, wooden spoon gripped like this is serious business.“Rule number one,” I tell her solemnly, opening the can. “Italian cooking is about respect.”She nods gravely. “For the noodles?”“For the sauce,” I correct. “The noodles are just happy to be here.”She giggles as I pour the contents into the pot. “This smells like school lunches.”“Ah,” I say. “A classic.”She stirs with intense focus while I supervise, one hand hovering near the pot, the other steadying the chair. “You never rush it,” I add. “Even when it’s already done.”“That doesn’t make sense,” she says.“It doesn’t have to,” I reply. “That’s tradition.”Libby watches us from the counter, arms folded tight across her chest like she’s holding herself together. Her eyes are shiny. She keeps blinking like she’s trying not to let something spill.I pretend not to notice but inside, something twist

Chapter Seventeen (Libby)

The bell over the door chimes and my head lifts on instinct, my body already moving into the customer service version of myself—polite smile, steady voice, no flinching.Then I see her.She’s dressed neatly, her dark hair curled like she took time with it. She pauses just inside the entrance, scanning the store, and when her eyes land on Matteo behind the counter… her whole face softens.Like she found something she lost.My stomach sinks in the slow, awful way it did the night I stood outside the window with a gift basket in my hands. Matteo goes still. Not visibly—not dramatic but I’ve learned his tells in small moments. The way his shoulders square. The way his jaw tightens like he’s bracing for impact.“Hi,” she says, walking closer. Her voice is light, friendly—too friendly for a stranger.“Mariela,” Matteo replies. Flat. Controlled.She glances at me then, smile widening as if remembering she’s being observed. “Oh—hi!” she says, cheerful. “I didn’t realize you were open.”“We ar

Chapter Eighteen (Libby)

Dawson offers to take Emma for the day like it’s nothing.“I owe you,” she says cheerfully, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Go be an adult. Drink hot coffee. Sit in silence.”Emma cheers like she’s been promised Disneyland.I smile, hug her tight, and try not to let the knot in my stomach show.Because I know where I’m going after my shift.Matteo’s place.The drive there takes longer than it should—not because it’s far, but because my hands tighten on the steering wheel the closer I get. When the gate opens and the driveway curves through manicured hedges and stone fountains, my chest goes hollow.This isn’t a house.It’s an estate.The kind you see in magazines. The kind that makes you instinctively straighten your shirt and wonder if you tracked dirt in with your shoes.I park and sit there for a second, staring.Different worlds, my brain supplies unhelpfully.I almost turn around.Then Matteo steps out onto the front walk.He’s dressed casually—jeans, a soft sweater, sleeves

Chapter Nineteen (Matteo)

A week later, my house is loud. That alone feels like a victory. The pool is alive with splashing and laughter, sunlight flashing off the water like it’s showing off. Sofia is stretched out on a lounge chair pretending she’s relaxed while still tracking Renata’s every breath. Luca is in the pool, shirtless, holding their daughter just above the water while she kicks enthusiastically like she’s trying to swim her way into a medal.Gio is already wet, because of course he is, and Cara is perched on the edge with her feet in the water, sunglasses pushed up into her hair and then there’s Emma.Emma sees Cara and absolutely loses her mind.“IT’S REALLY YOU,” she screams, running so fast she nearly wipes out on the tile.Libby stiffens instantly beside me. I feel it, the way her shoulders tense, the way her mouth opens like she’s about to apologize for a child who hasn’t actually done anything wrong yet.Emma skids to a stop in front of Cara, eyes huge. “I KNOW ALL YOUR SONGS. ALL OF THEM.

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