I narrow my eyes. “And you’re a Frey.”
“Ouch,” he says, leaning back like the insult hurt. Then his eyes meet mine and he laughs. “You’re all right, Sierra.”
“I can die happy knowing you think so.”
He leans forward in a deep bow. “Go forth, Mother of Dragons.”
“First of her Name…Breaker of Chains…you gotta say the whole thing.”
“I wouldn’t have taken you to be a Game of Thrones junkie.”
“I love it. The books and the show were both excellent. Lord of the Rings is good too. But Harry Potter is the best of all.”
“Fuck yes it is. Chase is a Slytherin, just to warn you. I made him take the Pottermore official test a few years back.”
“I’ll let that one slide. I’m a Hufflepuff, and we see the good in everyone after all.” I laugh and go back to the front door. Just a minute ago I was scared that Jax might hurt me, but he turns out to be a fantasy nerd like me and a loyal friend to Chase.
“See you around, Sierra,” he says and opens the door for me. The relief I felt is zapped away. On Jax’s right arm, just under the sleeve of his T-shirt, is a tattoo of a sun. The same exact sun that Chase has tattooed on his chest. Suddenly, Lisa’s theory that Chase is in some sort of organized crime ring doesn’t sound too far off.
22
Chase
“Not that I’ve ever doubted your skills,” Jax tells me later that night. “But how the fuck did a chick like Sierra end up with you?”
I laugh. “I have no fucking clue.”
Setting a bag of takeout from the bar on the coffee table, I fall onto the couch. It’s two o’clock in the morning, and I’m fucking tired. I had to go straight down to the bar after coming home from Mercy hospital. Dakota wasn’t handling the transition from only child to older sister of two very well. She asked if I would take her to get a Happy Meal for lunch, and of course I said yes. There’s a McDonalds less than a block away from the hospital and it wasn’t too hot to comfortably walk to it.
Josh was fine with it. Melissa was fine with it. Melissa’s parents were fine with it. But Judy Henson—low and behold—wasn’t. It led to an awkward conversation between Josh and his mother, Dakota crying, and Melissa, who was worn out and in pain, snapping at Judy.
Melissa’s father ended up coming with, which wasn’t as bad as I expected. The guy was talkative but nice and thanked me more than once for filling in at the bar so Josh could spend more time at home with Melissa and the babies.
“Makes sense why you fell off the grid,” he goes on. “But what are you going to do?”
I take a bite of my burger and shoot him a look. “With what?”
“Playing house here.”
I shrug. “I like it here.”
Jax, who’s never been much of a talker, grunts. He opens his bag of takeout and puts his feet up on the coffee table, flipping through channels.
“Want to know something fucked up?” I blurt.
“I love fucked up.”
“My phone broke, and I had to send it in to get the screen replaced. That’s why I fell off the grid. And I got a temporary in its place. It’s Sierra’s dead boyfriend’s phone.”
“How the fuck do you know that?”
“The person who sold it second-hand failed to do a factory reset and deleted shit by hand. But they forgot the voicemails. Sierra kept calling him after he died.”
Jax blinks, looks away, then back at me again. “You listened to the messages?”
“A few of them.”
“Does she know?”
“No. I listened before I knew it was her.”
“That is not the kind of fucked up I was expecting. I thought you were going to say cousins really do hook up here and Sierra’s got a hot cousin that joins in with you two.”
I make a face. “You have issues.”
Jax laughs at himself. “I do. But I’m also enjoying the visual of Sierra having a near-identical cousin. They’re really going at it—fuck. Here you come, ruining everything.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “I can never tell her, can I?”
Jax takes in a deep breath and pulls his French fries from the bag. “Fuck if I know. Are they sex-messages?”
“No, but it’s obvious she didn’t want anyone else to hear.”
“Yeah, I don’t—wait. She has a dead boyfriend?”
I nod, taking another bite of food. “He died almost two years ago. Car accident.”
“Fuck,” Jax mutters, turning his attention back to the MMA game on TV. I finish eating, take a shower, and fall into bed. I’m tired but can’t fall asleep because my damn mind won’t shut off and I keep thinking about Sierra. Doing the right thing has never kept me up at night. I’ve never lost sleep over what someone might think of me.
Sierra changes everything. She’s changing me without trying. Or maybe she’s not. Maybe she’s just exposing who I’ve been all along and fought hard to cover up.
“My mother has formally invited us to family dinner this Sunday,” Sierra tells me. I brought her lunch at The Book Bag today, and we’re sitting together behind the counter. “I’m sorry in advance.”
“It’ll be fine.”
She purses her lips. “You don’t know my family.”
“Tell me about them.” I put my hand on Sierra’s thigh, inching my fingers under the hem of her black skirt.
“Scott’s cool. But he doesn’t live here. My sister Sam is as type-A as type-A can be. Same with her husband, Brent. My dad talks about two things: work or the New Orleans Saints. My mom and Aunt Kelly are judgmental as fuck, and my Gran knows everything about everyone in the town.” She dips her fry in cheese sauce. “They’re not bad people though. Very nosey, but not bad. Nothing is off limits either.”
“I can handle it.” I squeeze her thigh and Sierra moves her leg, letting me slip my fingers further between. Then the bell above the door dings and I move my hand down to her knee.
“Hi, Mrs. McKay,” Sierra says to the woman who walked through the door, greeting her with a smile.
“Hello, darling,” Mrs. McKay replies. Her eyes go to me and narrow.
“She works with Judy Henson,” Sierra whispers to me once Mrs. McKay walks down an aisle. Sierra rolls her eyes and puts her hand on mine, letting me know she doesn’t give a shit what people think.
I stay with Sierra a while longer and then leave to work at the bar. I’m opening and closing tonight and already dreading it. I’m not a nine-to-five guy. Hell, even working evenings and nights at the bar is already getting to me. Maybe Jax was right to think living a life like this is bullshit.
23
Sierra
“This looks amazing!” I say, unable to keep the smile off my face. “I can’t believe it’s done already.”
“I had a decent designer.” Chase puts his arm around me and kisses the side of my head. “And once I got Jax off his lazy ass, the sanding and painting went fast.”
“I love it. White cabinets are trendy right now, and it really brightens up this space.”
“Exactly what I was going for,” Chase teases, taking another look at his renovated kitchen. Jax snores loudly from the couch, half covered with the rainbow unicorn blanket I brought for Chase as a joke.
“How long is he going to be here?” I ask. “Not that I mind or anything.”
“I mind,” Chase grumbles, eyeballing the empty containers of takeout on the floor. Overall, Chase is a neat person. He doesn’t make his bed or vacuum every day, but I’ve noticed that he doesn’t like clutter or things being out of place. “It’s been nearly a week and shouldn’t be too long. He’s waiting for his mistress’s husband to go on a business trip before going to her summer house in Florida.”
“That sounds like a joke, but you look serious.”
“I am serious. She’s old enough to be his mother.”
“Good for her,” I say and take Chase’s hand. It’s Sunday afternoon and we came back to Chase’s from church so he could change into jeans
and a T-shirt. He asked me three times on the way if he should stay in his dress clothes for dinner tonight. He says he’s not nervous, but seeing him want to make a good impression means more to me than I expected it to. He wouldn’t want my family to like him if he wasn’t serious about us, right? Chase is a person who gives no fucks. So when he does, it means something.
We go into Chase’s room, and watching him unbutton his shirt is an instant turn-on. I bite my lip and reach up, pulling on the silver chain hanging around my neck. Chase catches me watching and grins. Slowly, he undoes the rest of the button and peels his shirt back Magic Mike style. As soon as the shirt hits the floor, I’m a goner.
“Chase?” I ask, reaching for him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he mumbles, pressing his hand to his stomach. “Got a random cramp. I’m fine now.” I’m lying in his bed, sheets covering my naked body. He’s in the middle of the room, searching for my clothes that were ripped off and strewn about. He keeps his hand on his abdomen and straightens up, tossing me my underwear and dress.
I get dressed and then go to the bathroom, coming back in the room to find Chase balling up the dirty sheets. He has one hand pressed to his stomach again but brings it away as soon as I set foot in the room. I internally roll my eyes. Not feeling well isn’t anything to hide.
“Have a stomachache?” I ask, grabbing new sheets from the closet.
“Yeah. I have all day,” he confesses and grabs the opposite end of the fitted sheet. We have to turn it twice before getting it on the right way. “I’m fine though.”
“You’re nervous for tonight,” I joke.
“I’ve never felt sick from nerves,” he tells me. “I don’t feel nervous often, either.”
“Lucky. Nerves go right to my stomach. It’s not always pretty.”
We head to my house and spend the rest of the afternoon lounging around in the hammock. Tinkerbell and Dolly are with us most of the time, and Dolly’s approval of Chase makes me like him that much more.
“You feel kind of feverish,” I tell him, pressing my hand to the back of his forehead. “Are you still not feeling well?”
Chase shrugs. “I’m tired.”
“I’m going to take your temperature.” I get out of the hammock and return with the thermometer. I put it to Chase’s forehead. “Ninety-nine-point-two. You do have a fever.”
“I’ll take a Tylenol and be okay.”
“We don’t have to go to dinner. Not if you’re sick.”
“I’m fine,” he says again. “And it’s just dinner. I’ll be sitting there eating, not running a marathon.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” He pushes my hair back over my shoulder. “My only concern is making you sick.”
“I don’t get sick very often. I used to eat dirt when I was a kid. My mom jokes it gave me a hell of a good immune system.”
“I did not eat dirt as a child,” Chase laughs. “Maybe I should have.”
“I’m like never sick. I highly recommend it to children everywhere.”
Chase takes my hand and gets off the hammock, stretching his arms above his head. His T-shirt rises, giving me a glimpse of his abdomen. We bring the cats in, feed them, and get in Chase’s car to drive to my parents’ house. I notice him wincing when he gets out of the car, but does his best to hide it.
“Are you ready to meet your maker?” I ask, walking up to the front door.
Chase takes my hand. “I am. Are you?”
“No. I want to get a plate of food then go home.”
“We will. In an hour or two.”
I make a face and Chase squeezes my hand. He stops before we go up the steps and onto the porch and kisses me.
“Thanks. I needed that.”
“I know,” he says.
We enter the house and find everyone in the back parlor, no doubt waiting for us to arrive. Lisa and Rob aren’t here yet, and I wonder if she’s skipping altogether. We haven’t spoken since she confronted me about Chase’s criminal record. I introduce Chase to everyone, and then Gran pulls us out onto the porch for tea.
“It’s nice to finally meet the man who’s responsible for making my granddaughter happy again,” Gran says to Chase.
“It’s nice making her happy,” Chase replies.
Gran watches Chase and prepares her tea. “I knew your father,” she tells him. “He drove trucks for us for a while.”
“You probably knew him better than I did.”
Curious, Gran sets her tea down. “He didn’t reach out to you over the years?”
“Not very often.”
“It must have been hard growing up without your father when he had another son he was quite fond of.”
Chase shrugs. “That didn’t bother me.”
“And you get along with your brother now?”
“Yes. Very well, actually.”
Gran takes a sip of tea. “It would be easy to resent him, living the life you could have.”
“No, ma’am,” Chase starts. “I find resenting anything to be a waste of time. Stressing over what could have been gets you nowhere. What matters to me is what could happen next.”
Gran smiles and turns her attention to me. “I like this one, Sierra.”
“You won over Gran,” I whisper to Chase. “The rest will follow.”
The sound of a car engine turns all our attention to the street. A police car pulls in, and I hate the feeling of dread I feel knowing Lisa and Rob are here. She’s my best friend, and she’s family. I don’t want to fight.
I take a drink of tea, knowing I need to put my game face on. It’s obvious when Lisa and I aren’t getting along, though I do have Chase with me this time to provide a good buffer…expect that he’s the cause of the ill feelings.
“You’re late,” Gran says to Lisa and Rob as they walk up to the porch.
“Blame this one,” Rob says, sticking his thumb out at Lisa. “She can’t get anywhere on time to save her life.”
Lisa rolls her eyes. “I so could.”
“Join us,” Gran says, much to my chagrin.
Lisa looks at me, then at Chase, pressing her lips together in a tight smile.
“Have y’all met before?” Gran asks, meaning Lisa, Rob, and Chase.
“Yes,” Chase answers. “Sierra and I were over at Rob’s for a bonfire not that long ago.”
“Lovely.” Gran settles her gaze on me, giving me a small nod of approval. “I was just telling Sierra what a fine young man she’s found. Not to put you on the spot or anything, dear,” she tells Chase.
Lisa gives Rob the side-eye, and then shakes her head. Gran hasn’t noticed, but Chase does. He’s smart enough to not bring it up, at least. Gran asks Chase about his newborn nephews and tells us a story about The Mill House before it was a bar. Lisa avoids eye contact with me the whole time and is on her phone, texting. I’m pretty sure she’s messaging Rob because he replies to texts right after she sends. I might not hear their words, but I know they’re talking about us.
Tension builds, and the awkwardness starts to hurt.
Dinner isn’t much better, but at least my sister likes to dominate the conversation and brag about how well my niece did at her last horse show. The rumors about Chase have circulated through town. I know what everyone is thinking, and are dying to ask. But we Belmonts were raised to have good manners, and asking someone about their shady past over dinner isn’t polite.
I’m more of a sit-back-and-listen kind of person at family meals, but make an exception this time whenever there is a lull in the conversation, which doesn’t happen often with my family.
“Is Scott coming home for the Fourth of July Fest?” I ask my mom.
“He said he’s in the middle of a big project,” Mom tells me. “Of course, he won’t disclose any details.”
Dad looks up from his plate. “You’ve never been to a Fourth Fest here, have you?”
“No, sir,” Chase answers. “This will be my first.”
“Why didn’t y
ou come to Summer Hill before?” Dad asks.
“I knew I wasn’t welcome,” Chase answers honestly, surprising Dad. “I’m well aware of the situation my birth caused.”
“So why are you here now?”
“Well, I came for my father’s funeral,” Chase says slowly and I give my dad a what-the-fuck look. “And I stayed because my brother asked me to. We went our whole lives not really knowing each other and thought it was a good time to change that.”
“Where were you before you came to our little town?”
“Atlantic City.”
“You don’t have an accent,” Brent, my brother-in-law, says. “I thought everyone on the Jersey Shore had accents.”
“I’m not from there,” Chase explains. “I was born and raised near Chicago.”
“How did you end up in New Jersey?” Dad asks, furthering his interrogation.
“After studying psychology at the University of Chicago,” Chase starts, “I decided to throw a dart at a map and go wherever it landed. The world has so much to offer, I didn’t want to limit myself to one city. You can learn a lot from people who are different than you.”
“It sounds like you’ve moved around a lot,” Mom says, picking up her wine. She looks at my aunt Kelly and widens her eyes. It’s a good thing Mom doesn’t like to play poker. She’s so damn obvious.
“I did,” Chase answers. “A year ago today I was in Argentina.”
“That lifestyle sounds tiring,” Mom quips.
“It’s quite the opposite. Waking up not knowing what could happen makes you feel very much alive.”
“We must bore you here.” Mom smiles as she talks, but the implications of those five little words send a shiver down my spine.
“My tooth!” my niece cries, spitting something into her hand, and then holds up a bloody tooth. “If finally came out!”
I sigh and lean back in my chair, not realizing how tense I was until I relaxed. I’ve never been more thankful for a kid losing a tooth in my life. The conversation moves to the kids, with my niece unable to stop talking about her tooth and showing us how she can fit things in the new gap in her teeth now.
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