We have dessert and drinks on the patio near the pool. Chase eyeballs the pool house and nudges me with his elbow. I smile back, feeling blood rush through me at the thought of our first time.
We share a piece of cake, sitting together on the diving board, feet dangling above the pool. Chase makes me laugh so hard I almost fall in the water. He catches me at the last second, arms wrapping around my waist. We steal a kiss, not really caring if anyone sees.
“Sierra?” Lisa calls, standing a few yards back. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest. “Can I talk to you?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah.” I get to my feet and walk up the diving board. It wobbles under my feet and I consider jumping in the pool to avoid this awkward conversation. Lisa turns when I’m a foot behind her and walks to the end of the patio, away from everyone.
“Chase was pretty charming at dinner,” she starts.
“I guess so.”
She starts down a cobblestone path and sits on the ground, pulling at the grass. “Still, I hope you reconsider.”
“Reconsider?” I ask, sitting next to her. “Reconsider what?”
“Being with Chase.” She breaks off several pieces of grass and twists them in her fingers. “He has a criminal record, Sierra.”
“That doesn’t make him a bad person.”
Lisa’s eyes widen. “Yes, it does. Criminals are bad people. Chase has a criminal record. I don’t see how you can’t follow this.”
“Because I know Chase.”
“Not as well as you think. Why was he arrested? What did he do? And why did the same judge from Indianapolis get all the charges dropped?”
My heart drops. Jax said something about Indianapolis. He came from there…I think. “I don’t know.”
“You should. If anything, Sierra, just ask him. Maybe there is a good reason—though I sure as shit can’t think of one. And don’t even get me started on that friend who’s staying with him.”
“You mean Jax? What about him?”
“Have you seen him?”
“A few times now,” I say, working hard to keep the snark out of my voice.
“He looks like a thug.”
“Oh my God, Lisa. Listen to yourself! He’s a nice guy and is actually a really big nerd. You’d like him if you gave him the time of day before slapping ridiculous labels on him.”
“It’s not a label. He really is a thug. And Jax isn’t his real name.”
I throw my hands up. “How in the world do you know that?”
“Rob ran his fingerprints through the system.”
I stand up, nostrils flaring. My mouth opens but no sound comes out. There have been few times in my life that have left me speechless, and this is one of them. “I…I can’t, Lisa. You don’t like me being with Chase. I know that. But I can’t—and I won’t—deal with you acting like this. It’s beyond ridiculous at this point.”
Lisa gets to her feet as well, following me when I take a step back.
“His name is Nelson Cole and he’s been arrested more times than Chase. And he has served jail time.”
I blink, slowly shaking my head. I don’t know what to say, and I’m battling off throwing up, crying, or screaming.
“I’d go by Jax if my name was Nelson too.”
Lisa lets out an exasperated sigh. “Sierra, I don’t want to make you mad.”
“That’s surprising. You’re doing an awfully good job at it.”
“I have a bad feeling about them.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is? It’s not too weird seeing me with Chase?”
“I already told you I was sorry for saying that. And yes, that’s what it is. Chase has a shady past, and now this guy shows up out of nowhere with a creepily similar past. It doesn’t make sense. You’ve been through so much, I don’t want you to get hurt again.”
“Chase isn’t the one hurting me. Like you just said, I’ve been through so much and I’m finally happy again. Chase is everything I could want. He’s funny and sensitive and likes to sit in bed with me and read. He’s patient and kind and has made sure I’m okay with moving on every step of the way. He understands what I’ve been through.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“No shit. Instead of talk to me, you go play Scooby Gang and run Jax’s fingerprints.” I shake my head. “I’m not even going to ask how you got them, but I’m pretty sure stealing his prints like that with no reason is illegal.” I put my hands to my head, rubbing my temples. “I have a headache now. I’m going home.”
“What’s going on?” Chase asks when I come back. “Neither of you looked happy.”
“It’s nothing. Lisa gets in moods like this from time to time. She’ll get over it.”
“Can I do anything to help? I know I’m the source of her mood.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m pretty good at reading people,” he tells me. “It was obvious the moment she got out of the car and saw me.”
I push my hair back. “Right. Don’t worry about it though. She’ll get over it.”
“If you say so.” Chase doesn’t sound convinced. We gather our plates and cups and say goodbye to my family. On the way out to the car, I go over Lisa’s words. She is right. Something is off, and all it will take to get to the bottom of it is asking Chase what’s going on.
Chase opens the car door for me. All I have to do is ask him. He’ll answer with no hesitation. I’m sure of it.
“Fuck,” he says under his breath when he sits down. His hand flies to his stomach and his eyes close tight.
“Chase? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he assures me, straightening up. “Another cramp. I must have eaten something that doesn’t agree with me. Good thing we have a mile drive to your place.”
I put the back of my hand to his forehead. “You still feel feverish.”
“I’m fine.”
“We’ll see about that when we get to my house.” I rest one hand on his thigh and adjust the air with the other. We park in front of my house just moments later, and I take Chase’s temperature as soon as we’re inside.
“One-oh-one.” I show him the thermometer. “Your temp is going up.”
Chase sighs and runs his hand over the back of his head. “I’ll take more meds and crash. After I fuck you senseless, that is.”
I raise an eyebrow. “As much as I want to have sex with you, I think we should skip tonight. You’re sick, babe. You need to rest.”
Chase grumbles but doesn’t protest, and that’s all I need to know he’s feeling worse than he’s letting on. We change into pajamas and get ready for bed. I bring Chase medicine and a glass of water. He takes it and lies down, falling asleep within minutes.
I’ll ask him about his past another time.
Chase was still in bed when I left for work Monday morning. Tylenol did nothing to bring down his fever, and he was in more pain than he was letting on. Around noon, he texted to say he was going to his place to get new clothes and would come back and be at my house when I got off work. He said he was feeling worn out and wanted to go back to sleep.
I didn’t hear from him after that, and the assumption that he was in my bed passed out kept me from worrying. But when I got home around four o’clock and Chase was nowhere to be found, panic set in. I called him three times with no answer. I can’t help my mind going to the worst place, and I get a vision of Chase cold, stiff, and dead on the living room floor of his apartment.
“Stop,” I say out loud. Most people don’t die young. I feed the cats, throw a load of laundry into the washer, then get in the car and head to The Mill House. I call Chase again, annoyed that he never set up his voicemail. The phone rings and rings and rings, but he doesn’t answer.
There are a few cars in the parking lot, and Cory, the bartender working tonight waves to me as I cut through the bar, taking the faster route to the stairs. The door to the apartment is locked. I knock, anxiety growing by the second.
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“Oh, uh, hi,” I say when Jax answers the door. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and boxers, and looks like he just woke up. “Is Chase here?”
“Yeah,” he starts, and I enter the apartment. Empty beer cans and a spilled bag of chips is on the floor by the couch where Jax has been sleeping. “He’s being a pussy and says he’s not feeling well.”
“Still?”
“I know, right? Go play nurse and make him feel better. I’ll put on headphones and try not to listen.”
I pull a face but ignore him, striding through the living room to get to Chase. His bedroom door is shut, and I enter without knocking. The blinds are drawn and there’s a trashcan next to the bed.
“Chase?”
He mumbles something incoherent in response. I take off my shoes and get in bed, crawling over to him.
“Babe, you okay?” The second I touch him, I can tell he still has a fever. A high fever. “You’re burning up!” I exclaim and rip the blankets off him.
Chase starts to sit up but stops, wincing. He looks at me, blinks a few times, and then shakes his head. “Sierra? When did you get here?”
“Just now. You’re burning up, Chase. You have a fever.”
“Yeah.” His eyes flutter and he lies back down.
My chest tightens. Something is wrong. Really wrong.
“I think you should go to the doctor. You’re sick.”
“I’m tired,” he mumbles. “That’s all. Lay down with me and I’ll feel better.”
“No, you need more than a nap. You don’t own a thermometer, do you?”
Chase doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed and his breathing is slow. I put my hand on his shoulder and give him a shake. He starts to sit up and winces again, hand going to his stomach.
“Fuck,” he says hoarsely and reaches for the trashcan. I get it to him just in time for him to throw up. He groans and lays back, hand still on his stomach. “Can you bring me water?”
“Of course, I’ll get it now.” I take the garbage full of puke out with me, trying hard not to let it gross me out. Chase is really sick right now. He needs me.
I get water after the trash is cleaned out, and hurry back to the bedroom.
“Doesn’t sound too good in there,” Jax says, raising his eyebrows.
“I thought you were putting on headphones.”
“Nah. I’m not going to get laid anytime soon. I need to get my jollies somewhere.”
I roll my eyes. “Has he been like this all day?”
“Like what?”
“Kind of out of it.”
“Yeah, he has. I thought he was drunk at first. Then I remembered he didn’t drink.”
I give Jax a dead stare. “And you didn’t think anything could be seriously wrong?”
Jax shrugs. “He said he was fine.”
I shake my head and go back into the bedroom. Chase is huddled in a ball on the bed, with his hand over the right side of his abdomen. He straightens out when he sees me, not wanting to appear weak or let on that anything is actually wrong.
“Is that where it hurts?” I ask. “The lower right side?”
“Mostly.”
“I think you have appendicitis.”
“I don’t think so.” Chase sips the water. I take the glass from him and make him lay down. Gently, I press my fingers into his stomach, on the right side.
“It’ll hurt more when I let go,” I warn him. “And that means you need to get this thing taken out.” I move my hand and instantly feel bad for him. “You’ve been feeling sick for over twenty-four hours. We need to go to the hospital. Now,” I say through gritted teeth.
Chase doesn’t argue, but he doesn’t get up either.
“Chase Henson,” I say firmly. “Get your ass into the car right now or so help me God I will carry you down those stairs and put you in myself.”
Chase slowly sits up and nods, looking more and more confused. Certain he’s having emergency surgery as soon as we get to Mercy General, I grab a fresh change of clothes for him and rush out the door.
“Dude, you look terrible,” Jax says, standing from the couch. His eyes go to me. “Is he okay?”
I shake my head. “I’m pretty sure his appendix is about ready to burst if it hasn’t already. I’m taking him to the hospital.”
“I’ll drive,” Jax says. “You should sit with him in the back.”
“Good idea.”
Jax grabs his pants from the floor and puts them on, then helps Chase down the stairs. We’re halfway through the parking lot when Chase throws up again. Jax goes back inside for a water bottle and a trash bag to take with us in the car. I gently wipe his face with a tissue, and Chase looks around like he can’t quite figure out what’s happening.
That’s not a normal symptom of appendicitis. My stomach flip-flops and I grip Chase’s hand, practically dragging him to the car. My fingers shake as I pull the seatbelt over him and click it into place.
“Sierra,” Chase mumbles. “Where are we going?”
“The hospital. Close your eyes and try to relax.”
“Okay.” Chase’s eyes fall shut and his head tilts to the side. Jax is in the driver’s seat seconds later, and I hand him my keys. We speed off, making the hour-long trip in just over forty-five minutes. Chase is admitted right away, and after his blood work comes back, he’s whisked away for surgery, leaving me in the ER waiting room with Jax.
“We can go up there.” He stands and extends his hand.
“Where?”
“The post-op waiting area.”
I take his hand and let him pull me to my feet. His skin is rough and a quick look lets me know he suffered a nasty burn. The thick scar tissue covers the back of his hand.
“You sound like you’ve done this before.”
“I have. And I’ve been through it with Chase before too. He’ll be all right. He’s a tough son of a bitch.”
I nod and the shock starts to leave me. Everything happened so fast in the ER, and the faces of the doctors and nurses told me everything they didn’t say: getting Chase into surgery and removing his ruptured appendix might not be enough.
“Why did Chase have surgery before?” I ask and press a button to get into an elevator.
“Broke his leg flipping over the handlebars of a four-wheeler. He refused to go to the hospital for a week and the small fracture he got in the fall turned into a nasty break. By the time he got seen the bone had to be reset.”
“I’ve seen the scar,” I say, recalling the straight surgical line on his thigh. “How long ago was it?”
“Fuck if I remember,” Jax says, getting a dirty look from the woman who’s in the elevator with us. “Five years ago? Six?”
“You two have been friends for a long time then, right?”
“Feels like a lifetime,” Jax jokes.
I nervously pull on my cat necklace, mind whirling. When Chase said he never stayed anywhere long, I assumed he left everything and everyone behind. We get to the surgical floor and the nerves come back tenfold.
I can’t lose Chase. I wouldn’t survive it. Sitting in the cold, hospital waiting room, thinking about Chase on the operating table, makes my stomach churn. I close my eyes and get hit with another vision. I’m standing in a graveyard, watching a coffin get lowered into the ground. My heart is inside that coffin, but no one believes me. The dirt falls, burying me deep underground.
I’ve been through it before.
“Hey,” Jax whispers, putting his hand on mine. “It’ll be okay.”
I open my eyes and realize I’m close to hyperventilating. I blink back tears and nod. Jax pats my hand and leans back in his chair. I wrap my arms around myself and stare up at the TV in the corner of the room.
What feels like hours later, a nurse calls my name. I scramble up and over to her. She gives me a quick rundown—surgery went fine, but the infection was worse than they thought, which was why Chase was so out of it before we came here. He is being moved to the ICU to be treated for sepsis after this.
She takes me back to see him, and tears fill my eyes the moment I see him lying in the recovery bed, hooked up to IVs and machines.
His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful. The nurse warns me he might wake up totally confused and even combative, saying that’s pretty normal.
“Chase,” I whisper, putting my hand on his, careful to avoid the IV line. I gently stroke his skin, pressing myself close to the bed to stay out of the nurses’ way as they check the monitors.
Chase’s eyes flutter open and he starts to sit up. “Sierra,” he mumbles.
“I’m here. Right here. Don’t sit up, Chase. You just had surgery.”
His head falls back onto the pillow and a few seconds go by before he opens his eyes again. “Why did I have surgery?”
“Your appendix burst. You’re pretty sick, babe. You need to rest.” I blink tears back. “But you’re gonna be okay.”
“Right,” he agrees and twists his hand around, interlacing our fingers. “Sierra?”
I lean in, straining to hear what he has to say. “Yes?”
“I think I love you.”
I don’t try to stop the tears that fall this time. “I think I love you, too.”
The last time I was in the Intensive Care Unit, Jake died. Slight jitters take over when I step through the doors. Everything is the same. The lighting. The smell. Even the nurses.
Jake was at the room at the end of the unit, farthest away from the nurses. It didn’t matter by that time. The curtains were drawn around the glass walls. They gave us privacy because that’s all we had left.
Chase is in the second room, right across from the nurses’ station. The curtains and pulled back, and a nurse is in there now, adjusting tubes and checking on him. He’s awake and looks bored. It’s easy to convince myself that he’s fine and out of the woods. But having an infection turn septic is serious. Very serious.
Chase looks up, smiling when he sees me. I stay to the side, waiting for the nurse to finish, then go in and hug Chase.
“I guess you were right,” he says, running his hand through my hair. “I did need to go to the doctor.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I say back and we laugh. Chase winces slightly. “Are you okay?”
One Call Away Page 23