I quickly recall the last conversation I had with my therapist before I left home. She told me I had to let go and try to get my mom professional help. According to her, it isn’t my responsibility to keep my mom above water. She warned me that my mom would probably have to hit rock bottom before she gets better. Apparently, we’re still in the seemingly never-ending spiral stage, and she hasn’t hit her bottom yet.
“Mom, I’m cutting you off financially. I have cut you off financially. I’m not going back on my word. You need help and I need a chance to live my life.”
I sit down on the edge of my bed and take another deep breath before continuing. It’s hard for me to say no to her, and, to be honest, I’m still learning and coaching myself as I go.
“I love you, but you need help that I’m not able to give. By sticking around and taking care of you, I’m only enabling you to keep drinking. I can’t be your crutch anymore.”
“Fine, we’ll just see how you feel about all of this when I lose the house. I’ll be on the streets and you’ll have no home to come back to when things go wrong down there in good ol’ Oklahoma.”
Her words burn me like acid.
“Texas, Mom. I’m in Texas.”
“Whatever. Don’t even think about calling me for help. You’re on your own now.”
“Always have been, always will be,” I counter.
She hangs up on me. I let out a pained breath and lay back on my bed to stare at the ceiling, deep in thought. Even though I’m so far away, it feels as if I’m back there. And as horrible as this sounds, I just wish she would find someone to take care of her so that she doesn’t have to be my problem anymore. She’s become nothing but a financial burden over the years, and I’ve given up a lot, especially just to have it thrown back in my face.
Instead of getting upset over something I can’t control, I decide to go for a run to let off some steam. I throw my long hair into a ponytail, and change into my yoga pants, a tank, and running shoes. I reach for my headphones on the nightstand, plug them into my phone, and select “Plan B” by Mutemath to block out my thoughts.
After my run and a nice cold shower, I ran some errands—went to the post office, the bank, and even picked up some applications from a few places nearby that are in need of servers. I also did the one thing that I avoid till the very last second—grocery shopping. Seriously, I’d rather call my mom and talk to her for an hour. As always, I ended up buying a bunch of food that looked really good at the time, but I know I won’t eat later.
I open the trunk and glance around. Ah, the game has begun. How the hell am I going to carry all this stuff up to my apartment in one trip? Something has to give because there’s no way I’m making two trips. I grab as many bags as I can possibly manage before I feel like Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone when he’s walking home and all those groceries collapse. I turn in the general direction of the apartment with veins popping out from both forearms—more proof of my inherent sexiness.
“Need some help with those?” a smooth voice asks from behind me.
My heart stops beating. I know that voice. Chase.
I turn around. He’s standing there, watching me intently with a gleam in his eyes. He’s leaning against his car with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet crossed at the ankles. He’s dressed in dark jeans and a black T-shirt, his face is clean-shaven today. He looks devastatingly gorgeous. It’s so uncharacteristic for him. I want to drop all of these bags on the ground, grab his shirt, and forcefully kiss the hell out of him—like a dramatic scene out of a movie. But I choose to stand here and give him a hard time, instead.
“Look at that, you’ve only had one date with me and already you’re a stage-five clinger.”
“What can I say? I just can’t help myself when it comes to you.”
That is such a cheesy line, but unfortunately, it’s working. And the way he’s standing there with his arms crossed, challenging me with those stormy eyes, just pisses me off because it makes my heart palpitate. I secretly love it, even though I’m going to repeatedly tell myself that I don’t.
“How long have you been standing there? What are you doing here? And how did you get past the gate?” My questions come out in a rush.
“I’ve only been here a couple minutes and I used the code to get in. Raven gave it to me a few months back. I knocked on the door but no one was home. I was just getting into my car to leave when I saw you pull in. Talk about perfect timing. It’s as if fate is trying to tell us something, don’t you think?”
“Are you actually going to help me carry these up, or are you just going to stand there and be charming?” I ask.
“You think I’m charming?”
I give him a don’t-be-stupid stare.
“I suppose I could help you out, but not without something in return.” He comes up, grabs my face, and lays a kiss on my mouth.
“There,” he says, satisfied. “Now I’ll help.”
Chase follows me upstairs with the majority of the groceries, and I unlock the door to let him in. He goes to the kitchen and sets everything on the counter. I follow with the bag I’m holding. He eyes the vase of calla lilies that are on display, and I can sense his amplified state of pride.
We start taking everything out of the bags, and I’m all too aware of his presence. Every now and then, our arms lightly brush up against each other’s and my heart jumps at the contact. He’s fighting back a smile, like he knows exactly what I’m feeling right now. I’m starting to become a nervous wreck. I can’t concentrate when he’s in my personal space like this.
“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable while I put these away,” I say, aiming to put a little distance between us. I desperately want to keep my cool, or at least salvage what’s left of it.
He nods and walks over to the couch, taking a seat.
“Where’s Raven?”
“She’s working.”
“So you’re telling me that we have the entire place to ourselves?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Yes, and don’t even think about it,” I warn.
He holds up both of his hands like I just pulled a gun on him. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t try anything…unless you were open to it.”
“I appreciate that. Now why are you here again?”
“I came by to give your sunglasses back because I forgot, again, last night when I dropped you off. Plus, I checked both of my schedules and I wanted to set our second date.”
He could’ve texted me to set the second date, and he could’ve waited until he saw me to give me my sunglasses back. He’s here because he wants to see me, but he doesn’t want me to think he’s desperate. I lean over to put the milk on the bottom shelf of the fridge and release a big smile where he can’t see. He isn’t the only one who’s suffering from a severe case of self-protection. Just then, the conversation I had with Raven this morning comes floating back.
“Speaking of our second date, Raven said ACL is going on this weekend. She and Eric will both be there on Saturday...and so will I. Are you interested?” I’m feeling him out. Even though I know he already has a ticket, I don’t want him to feel obligated to hang out with me if he’d rather be with his friends.
He smiles. Those sexy dimples appear on his cheeks again. He looks far more young and innocent now that he’s shaved off his facial hair. He looks amazing either way, but I almost prefer him with some scruff.
“That’s funny because I was just going to ask if you wanted to go with me. I don’t normally get the music festivals off, but I got lucky this year.”
I hits me that I don’t even know what he does for a living. I know it will only be our second date, but that’s usually something that’s covered on a first. How did I miss that? I mentally kick myself.
“Where do you work, anyway?” I ask curiously.
“I’m a carpenter for my dad’s furniture company. I also bartend at Surge on the side.”
I’ve heard about Surge from Raven. Supposedly, it’s
quite the hot spot downtown, but it’s more of an upscale bar, less of a dive. That tells me right off the bat it probably won’t appeal to my tastes.
“Why’d you choose to work for your dad’s company? Did you feel pressured to work for the family business or something?”
“No, not really. My dad and I were always building things together when I was a kid, and I just seem to have a knack for it,” he shrugs. “Mostly, I enjoy it. When I’m working on something, I don’t worry about anything else that’s going on. It completely clears my head and puts me at ease. You know how some people cook, clean, or exercise to get that feeling?”
I nod.
He smiles and points to himself. “This guy likes to build shit.”
“What kind of shit?”
“Anything inside of a house, but mainly bedroom and living room furniture.”
“Seriously? You can furnish a house?” I ask, surprised. “That’s impressive, Chase. I wish I could do something like that.”
“I’ll teach you how if you want sometime,” he offers.
The thought of learning something new and getting to see Chase in his element excites me. I want to see what he can do with what he considers his passion.
“I’d really like that.”
Once I finish putting everything away, I receive a text from Hadley asking me if it’s a good time to call.
“Are you staying for a while?” I ask.
“Sorry, can’t. I gotta work at the bar tonight. That’s one of the reasons why I stopped by. I’ll be busy this week and I won’t get to see you again until our date on Saturday.”
It bums me out that I won’t be able to see him anymore this week, but I get that he’s busy. He sets my sunglasses down on the coffee table and stands, walking towards me. My heart rate spikes. He reaches out and cups my face in his hands, and brings me up on my tippy toes for a goodbye kiss. When our lips softly meet, I immediately lose any coherent thought I may have had prior to his lips touching mine. I make a point to close my eyes and just feel. He gently runs his fingers through my hair and I go weak at the knees. When he’s done kissing me into a stupor, he slowly starts to back away.
“Does one o’clock sound good for Saturday?” he asks, walking backwards to the front door.
I nod robotically, unable to form a complete sentence.
“Good, I’ll see you then.”
He turns to open the door and steps outside. When he leans back to grab the handle, his face pulls up into a lazy half-smile, and then he deliberately gives me an air bite that comes off cheesy and sexy on purpose. The sound of his jaw snapping shut is all the anticipation I need for Saturday. This guy is irresistible. At the rate this is going, I’ll be thoroughly fucked in no time...both metaphorically and physically. He slowly shuts the door. When I can finally move my limbs again, I waste no time grabbing my phone off the counter to call Hadley. Time to start round two of my gushing for the day.
EIGHT
c h a s e
I pull up and park in front of my favorite Thai restaurant. I step outside and take a sweeping glance around the parking lot, checking to see if Eric beat me here. We’re meeting up for lunch in an effort to keep up our ongoing bromance. When I don’t see his car anywhere, I whip out my phone and text him: I’m here dude. Where are you? Then I head on inside and grab a table. An iced tea and four spring rolls later, Eric saunters in and pulls up a chair.
“What’s up, man?” he greets.
“Dude…you’re like thirty minutes late. If this were a real relationship, you’d have blue balls for a week. And you’d owe me roses.”
“Oh, please, you’re so fucking dramatic. Reel it in.”
“Blow me.”
“You wish.”
“Here’s a menu. Everything rocks. Nothing sucks.”
“Is it too early to order a beer?”
I check the time on my phone. “Dude, it’s like, noon.”
“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t then,” he says reluctantly. “Fucking social norms, they get you every time.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
He grabs a menu and starts skimming. “So, what’s good here?”
“Have you already started drinking? Did you not hear what I just said two seconds ago? Everything. I usually go for the Pad Thai.”
“Jesus, no need to get snippy,” he jokes, his eyes darting back and forth between the menu and me.
I laugh. The server comes by to take our order. Once we both rattle off what we want to eat, she collects our menus and walks away, giving Eric ample opportunity to check out her ass.
“So, how’d it go with Mia the other night?” he asks, casually leaning back into his chair.
“It went really well, actually. I took her to Fino, and then we drank beer and played mini-golf. Turns out, she’s a lot of fun to be around.”
“I don’t do lame. Not even for friends. You know that. Why are so surprised?”
“I don’t know. She seemed pretty uptight at your place, and then again when I picked her up for our date. I wasn’t quite sure what I was in store for, but she eventually warmed up. I gotta say, it’s a nice change of pace; dating a girl who's cool and sexy. All the hot ones are usually crazy.”
“No joke,” he chuckles. “That’s my homegirl. But I’m telling you right now, if your intentions are shady, stay away from her. She’s already been through enough.”
Hearing Eric talk about Mia that way strikes a nerve. I know he’s looking out for her, but he doesn’t need to protect her from me; he should know that. And I certainly don’t need to be warned to stay away, either.
“My intentions are not shady,” I say tightly.
He studies me for a long moment, searching for truth. When he’s convinced I’m serious, he nods. “So, what are you up to the rest of the day?” he asks, switching the subject.
“I gotta stop by Meg’s place after work and check out her hardwood flooring. My dad’s sending me over there to find out what the issue is. Might be there stuck there all night fixing it. What about you?”
He sits up and leans over the table, resting on his forearms. “Well, I was gonna start drinking until your moral compass put a stop to it, so, not much. More work, followed by the gym, and then I’m staying in and chilling for the rest of the night.”
“Mia said you’re going to ACL this weekend.” I say.
“Yeah. You’re going, too, right?”
I nod and take a sip of my iced tea.
“Is Mia going?” he asks.
“She’s planning on it. At least, that’s what she was telling me yesterday.”
“Excellent.”
“How do you feel about Raven going?”
He frowns and shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, man. It is what it is. I’ve given up on trying with that girl. She can do what she wants, and I’ll do the same.”
Sensing his irritation, I let that one go. Whatever’s going on between those two, they can work it out on their own. The last thing I want is to wind up in the middle of all that bullshit.
The server arrives with our food. It smells fucking amazing, and it’s nice and hot, too. I pick up my chopsticks and dig in, while Eric spends a good five minutes trying to figure out how to use his. Ultimately, he says, “fuck it,” then calls her back over, and asks for a fork.
* * *
After calling it a day at work, I head straight to Megan and Luke’s house. I saunter through the front door and into the living room, immediately making myself at home. I grab the remote, turn on the TV, and fall backwards into the couch. Just as I start to get comfortable, my sister emerges from her office. She walks over and hovers over me with her hands placed firmly on her hips. When I don’t look up right away, she loudly clears her throat. Hate that shit.
“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to return one of my calls once in a while,” she says irritably.
“Sorry, Sis. I’ve been a little busy lately,” I respond while channel surfing.
“You’re always b
usy. It doesn’t mean you can’t give me five minutes of your time.”
I swear the older we get, the more she looks and sounds like my mother. She’s tall and slender, she has the same short dark hair framing her face, and her eyes match mine (which we get from our mother). We’ve been told throughout the years that we look “identical.” Personally, I think it’s the eye color and tattoos prompting people to draw those comparisons, because other than that, I don’t see the resemblance.
She takes a seat next to me and plops her feet onto the coffee table. My dad and I made that for Luke and her as their wedding present. We included matching end tables to go with it, too. Since Megan was fresh out of college when she got married, she didn’t have any real decent furniture, and neither did Luke. This piece is one of kind. Mahogany with a clear finish. It’s masculine but with beveling to soften the edges, and wrought iron knobs on the drawers.
Let’s face it; most bachelors don’t have the luxury of knowing how to make their own furniture like I do. Even if they did, I doubt they’d put in the time. Most men I know couldn’t care less about side tables and high-end decoration.
“What’s new?” Megan asks.
“Work. Oh, and I broke things off with Christa,” I say nonchalantly.
“Really?!” She can’t hide the surprise and satisfaction in her voice. Megan never cared too much for Christa. This was another reason why I never pursued anything more. If you can’t get along with my parents or my sister, it’s probably not going to work out in the end. “What made you decide to do that?”
“I wasn’t feeling it anymore...and I met someone else,” I cave.
That grabs her attention. She shifts her body towards mine, looking at me expectantly. I look back and forth between her and the TV.
“Nosey much?” I ask.
“I’m your sister; I’m allowed to be nosey. If a new girl’s come into the picture, I wanna know about it.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. We’re just casually dating.”
“It can’t be that casual if you dropped Christa for her,” she
Take Heart Page 7