by S. R. Grey
I mean, let’s assess the situation…
We’ll have my brother tracking down Paul, toting around an illegally obtained firearm, and possibly using that firearm to keep his girlfriend from harm. And then there’s the FUBAR situation these circumstances promise to become when my mother and Greg return on Friday from their comfy little cruise down in Mexico. But most important, Kay can’t come with me because who knows what kind of shit I may have to do to keep everyone safe, particularly my mixed-up brother.
So I turn away from Kay and supply the answer to her question regarding my well-being. “My priority is to keep you safe. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
I may not, but I don’t dare voice my suspicion.
I resume throwing clothes into the open suitcase on the bed, and from behind me, I hear Kay say, “But I do worry, Chase. How can I not?”
When I refuse to turn around, only because I am striving to remain resolute in my decision, she threatens, “Maybe I’ll just buy a ticket on my own. I have a credit card, you know?”
“You told me you only use it for emergencies,” I snap.
“And this doesn’t qualify?” she asks, incredulous.
I stop throwing clothes into the suitcase, pause with a T-shirt in my grasp. Kay is determined, and there’s a good chance she’ll follow through on what she’s proposing to do. It’s clear to me that she is not going to back off unless I take drastic action.
Unfortunately, I know what it’s going to take to subdue Kay. I don’t like it. It’s going to require me to do something I absolutely do not want to do—push her away. And there’s only one surefire way to accomplish that goal—by divulging the secrets I’ve been keeping from her for the past few weeks.
Stoic, I remain turned away from Kay. I stare down at the T-shirt in my hand, and say slowly, “What if I told you I’ve been keeping things from you?”
“I suspected as much,” she whispers.
I venture a quick glance over my shoulder. The color has drained from her cheeks, and I fucking hate that I’m the one causing that reaction.
I avert my eyes when she asks, “So, what kinds of things have you been keeping from me?”
“I’ve wanted to come clean with you for a while now,” I reply, avoiding the immediate question as well as her gaze.
“What’s been stopping you?”
I drop the shirt onto the bed and turn around completely to face her.
There are tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to overflow. Shit.
Undeterred, though, I say, “Maybe I’ve been fooling myself, Kay, thinking I’m becoming a better person. But what if the man I’ve been striving to be just isn’t me?”
“What are you saying?” she whispers, like that’s all she’s got now in the volume department.
“I’m saying that I haven’t changed all that much. Secrets have always been a part of my life. And nothing is any different. When it comes right down to it, you can believe what you want, but I’m still the same man I’ve always been, baby.”
“I love the man you are, Chase.”
Her words slaughter my heart with their raw truthfulness.
She continues, gutting me a little more with each syllable. “And you have changed, a lot, in ways that matter. You’re better, you’re good, and you’re—”
“No,” I interrupt sharply.
I can’t listen to Kay singing my praises, which are undeserved, especially when I’m trying to push her away.
Still, I soften a bit when my eyes meet hers. “I’m not anything close to good,” I whisper.
I take a step toward her, but I make myself stop.
Kay’s eyes urge me to keep going. Don’t stop now, they plead. Come to me.
However, I don’t move.
If I go to Kay, I will take her in my arms, and my resolve will crumble. I need to stay strong, because staying strong means staying distant. And distance is my goal. I need emotional distance so I can do what I have to do. And I need geographic distance, meaning Kay needs to remain in Harmony Creek while I fly out to deal with the impending shitstorm in Vegas.
With all that in mind, I stand firm. My girl’s face falls, and I clear my throat.
“What?” she snaps. “Just tell me and get it over with. Tell me what you’ve been keeping from me.”
She is striving to stay strong, striving to be tough with me. If this situation weren’t so heart wrenching, I’d laugh at her fire.
“Okay.” I nod. “So…the day I went to Kyle’s, when I first warned him to stay away from Will, to quit selling him drugs. Well, that request came with a price.”
“What kind of price?” Her voice cracks, and the fire she had thirty seconds ago flickers out.
“He asked me to fuck up some addict who owed him money.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s what happened to your hand that night.”
I nod, but I don’t tell her that I didn’t annihilate the guy. I hit him once, sure, but not in a way that would’ve resulted in the damage my hand sustained. That shit came from hitting the fucking bricks.
From Kay’s expression, though, I know she thinks the worst.
Good, that’s what I want.
“That’s not all,” I add, preparing to reveal my other secret.
“There’s more?” she replies, her tone weary.
“There’s more,” I confirm. “Haven’t you even once been curious as to why Doug Wilson never looked you up like he was supposed to?”
“Chase”—tears form in her eyes—“what did you do?”
I take a deep breath, then, with my words, push her away some more.
“That day…” I falter momentarily. Shit, this is hard on me, too. “That day Cassie called about her stepdad, the day Will first flipped out. Remember how you couldn’t get a hold of me?”
“Yeah?” she prompts.
“Well, I had a little meet and greet with your ex-boyfriend. That’s why I was so late in coming home, that’s why you couldn’t reach me. I turned off my phone before I left work to go talk with Doug.”
“What’d you say to him?” she wants to know.
“I told him he’d better stay away from you—or else.” I hold her gaze. “And let’s just say, I made sure he got the message loud and clear.”
Again, I let her believe the worst-case scenario by not elaborating. Let her think I kicked that preppy motherfucker’s ass up and down fucking Market Street. She doesn’t need to know I only intimidated him.
To my surprise, though, Kay responds vehemently…to both my indiscretions.
“I don’t care what you did to Doug. And I don’t care about some junkie getting his ass kicked.” She juts out her chin, defiant to the end. “Maybe that makes me more like you than you’d like to admit, Chase Gartner.”
“No, baby girl.” I shake my head. “You are nothing like me.”
And that’s the point where she chokes back a sob. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. I can live with what you did, what you may do in the future, but what’s killing me is that you kept those things from me. We don’t keep secrets, Chase, it’s not…us.”
My chest constricts as I take a deep breath, and then I drive the final nail in the coffin. “Kay, I’ve been living a lie all along, and you don’t even see it. Face it: you’re good, and I…am not.”
“Stop it,” she begs, her voice cracking, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Don’t say stuff like that. It’s not true.”
I am the world’s biggest dick right now, but I have to ensure Kay remains out of danger. And that, unfortunately, means she needs to stay the fuck away from me.
“You shouldn’t want to be with me,” I say matter-of-factly.
“But I do want to be with you,” she cries. “That’s why I said I’d marry you. That’s why we’re engaged, Chase. Don’t tell me that means nothing.”
I raise a questioning eyebrow, and that does it.
Her face falls. “You’re an ass,” she hisses.
My continued sil
ence is the final straw. She narrows her eyes at me, turns, and stomps out of the bedroom, the slamming door punctuating her disgust with me.
The silence that follows is positively deafening. I’ve succeeded in pushing Kay away, yeah, but at what cost?
Epilogue
Lead in to Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)
Kay
Chase comes down the steps a few minutes following my angry departure from the bedroom. I’m still pissed at him, which is why I’m standing at the front door, contemplating whether I should leave.
My ire lets up a bit, though, when I see the suitcase in his hand. I lean back against the wall by the door, but my eyes can’t meet his.
This is really happening. Chase is really doing this. He’s truly leaving without me by his side.
I’m still a little surprised he kept those particular secrets from me, but the initial sting has subsided. I knew he was holding stuff back. I didn’t press, just allowed myself to believe he had his reasons. It’s my fault as much as his that he kept that stuff buried. I should have made him fess up sooner.
But it doesn’t really matter, not anymore. I know the truth now. Or rather, I know what he wants me to think is the truth. I know Chase, though. And there’s no way those wounds on his hand were caused from hitting a person. He hit something inanimate that night. Of that, I have no doubt. As for what happened with Doug, all I know is that whatever Chase did, it kept my ex away from me. That makes his actions justified in my eyes. Plus, how can I be angry? I did nothing to discourage him from seeking out Doug. Truthfully, I knew in my heart the day I told Chase of Doug’s intentions to apologize to me that he would take action. And he did. So I am as culpable as he.
I have to admit, though, when Chase arched his eyebrow at me, questioningly, at the mention of our engagement, I was shocked and hurt. And I’m still bristling. I mean, what the hell did that arched eyebrow mean? That we’re not really engaged, or that being engaged means nothing.
Chase nears where I’m standing. He sets his suitcase on the floor. I glance his way. His eyes hold a million apologies. But I know no matter how sorry he is, he is not going to bend. He’s not going to take me to Las Vegas with him.
I glance away, and he says softly, “Kay.”
I don’t respond, but he’s not deterred. He comes to me and wraps his arms around me.
“Don’t,” I snap, twisting away.
“Come on, baby girl,” he soothes. “Don’t leave it like this.”
I resist meeting his blues, but his fingers find my chin, and I have no choice but to look up at him.
His eyes hold nothing but truth, sincerity, and remorse. “I’m sorry, Kay,” he says. “I’m sorry I kept secrets. I’m sorry I hurt you.”
I cave a little.
“Did you really beat the junkie?”
“What do you think?” he asks.
“No.”
“And Doug?”
“Just talked to him.”
“I wouldn’t have cared if you beat him, not for his sake. But I’m glad you didn’t, for yours.”
Chase sighs, lowers his hand from my chin. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Kay. I’m sorry I mocked our engagement that way. It was shitty. But you know I love you, right? And, if you’ll still have me, I still want us to get married.”
“We could get married in Vegas,” I say slyly.
“Kay…” Chase sighs. “I have to do this alone. You can’t come to Vegas, not under these circumstances.”
There’s hesitation in his voice now, hesitation that wasn’t there when we were arguing upstairs. Maybe Chase is second-guessing his decision to leave me behind. Damn, he knows we’re better together than we are apart. And he can keep me safe in Vegas, just like I’ll keep him grounded.
But before I can say any of this, Chase mutters, “I better go.”
There’s a short good-bye kiss, a long hug, and then he’s gone.
I can’t bring myself to watch him drive away, though. It hurts too much.
After he’s gone, I walk around downstairs, aimlessly, from room to room. But the emptiness of the house without Chase in it is too much to handle. I head up to the bedroom, where everything still smells like my guy—fresh, soapy, male.
There’s an indentation on the bed where the suitcase was. I erase the reminder that Chase is gone by reaching down and smoothing out the covers. Suddenly, I feel exhausted. I lie down on the bed, and when I press my nose to Chase’s pillow, I whisper his name.
I roll to my stomach and look up at the wall. Above me hangs the oil pastel of the Eiffel Tower, the sketch Chase drew for me not so very long ago. The drawing is beautiful, and I can’t help but smile when I recall the many times Chase and I have talked, laughed, and loved beneath this little piece of Paris.
Paris…
I’m reminded of the evening Chase brought Paris to me, the night of our rooftop picnic at sunset. Everything was so perfect. We feasted on brie spread over pieces of baguette; we drank pink-tinged Kir that matched the sunset that evening. But, best of all, Chase and I made love for the first time that night.
Chase gave me a memory, a beautiful memory, to hold close to my heart. I knew even then that that memory would soothe me in troubled times such as these.
And it does, that memory soothes me now.
My head starts to clear, and get a hold of my lingering wayward emotions. Time to quit lying around, time to quit moping—it’s time to take action.
But I’m not exactly sure what I should do.
Rising up to my knees, I glance around.
My cell is on the nightstand. Usually I handle things by myself, or with Chase, but maybe if I talk with someone else, I’ll find the direction I seek.
Heck, it’s worth a try.
My first impulse is to call Father Maridale, since he’s generally a help when I feel uncertain. But I hesitate. Tonight, I feel like speaking with a woman might be more helpful to me.
Decided, and determined, I reach out and grab my cell from the nightstand. But then I just stare blankly at it. Who can I call—Missy? No, she’s dealing with her own things. Sadly, I don’t really have any other female friends.
To be honest, though, I know who I’d like to speak with. But I am hesitant to call her.
“Oh, what the hell,” I say out loud, resolving to do the one thing I never would have imagined myself doing even just a month ago.
I call my mother.
In some inexplicable, weird way it feels right, like my mother and I have progressed to this point, and it’s my turn to reach out. Like Father Maridale counseled, I am giving her an opportunity to be here for me.
She’s initiated all contact up to this point; she always calls me. She’s been great so far too, keeping up with me, warning me about Doug. But this will mark the first time I’ve taken it upon myself to get in touch with her.
I breathe in deeply. Let’s see how this goes…
To my delight, my mom sounds genuinely pleased to hear from me. That kind of touches me deep inside. This is the kind of connection I’ve longed for ever since Mom turned away. Before then, even. I always wanted a real relationship with my mother. After all, she is my flesh and blood. There’s a bond there that transcends hurt feelings and past wrongs, no matter how deep they run.
We talk, just small talk. I keep the conversation light, updating her on what we’ve been doing, like the fair Chase and I took Will and Jared to, our road trip to Pittsburgh, movies we’ve seen, that sort of thing.
At one point, Mom asks me how work is going, and I reply, “Actually, I’m pretty much done with the secretary gig. That was just for the summer.”
“School doesn’t start till September, though,” she remarks.
“That’s true,” I reply, “but the regular secretary, Connie, returns on Monday from her trip. She and her husband were on a cruise.”
“Oh, so you have the next three weeks off?”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “Father Maridale told me I can still co
me in and help Connie if I get bored, but there’s really no need. I’m sure I’ll find things to do around here.”
There’s a smile in Mom’s voice as she states, “Look on the bright side, honey. Think of how much time you and Chase can spend together these next few weeks. You have the rest of August to do things together before you go back to teaching. These dog days of summer are so nice for young couples, lots of end-of-summer events and activities to enjoy.”
“Um…”
Mom, misunderstanding my non-reply, says, “Oh, what am I going on about? I’m sure Chase still has to work the rest of the month. Just never mind me, honey.”
Chase would still be working through August, but when Father Maridale was told of the latest troubles with Will, he gave Chase the rest of the month off.
Damn. Mom’s words resonate, though. How I would love to be planning fun, end-of-summer activities for Chase and me to partake in. But who knows how much of the next few weeks we’ll even end up spending together. Chase might be stuck in Vegas for a while.
When I don’t immediately respond to my mom, she says, as only moms can do, “Kay, what’s wrong?”
I need to talk to someone, and she really is trying, so I confess to her that Chase is gone.
“He’s on his way to the airport right now. Chase is flying out to Las Vegas early tomorrow morning to, uh, help his brother. And I don’t know how long he’ll be gone.”
Mom sighs, then says with much kindness, “I’m sorry, Kay.”
That prompts me to spill everything that’s really happening. Well, almost everything. I leave out my argument with Chase, and I don’t dare mention that Will purchased a gun. I do, however, share with my mother that a misguided Will might run into trouble while trying to protect his girlfriend.
My mom is quiet for a few beats, like maybe she’s assessing. I conclude she must be good at assessing when she softly says, “You want to go with Chase, don’t you?”
“I do,” I admit. Why lie?
“So why aren’t you with him right now?” she gently prods.
I stifle a sniffle. “He wants to do this alone, Mom. He thinks I’ll get caught up in what he terms a dangerous situation.” I sigh. “This thing with Will, it’s, uh, volatile. Besides, Chase told me he needs to do this on his own.”