by Leslie North
Maybe she did owe it to herself to give this thing with Chase a real shot. And maybe she owed it to Chase, too. She could tell he cared for her, maybe even as much as she cared for him. The fact that they tried to keep their growing feelings a secret from one another just seemed absurd. They were two totally mature adults, weren't they? They should be able to have this conversation.
Sookie just hoped she wanted to have the same conversation Chase did.
She arrived early to the morning briefing at the station, surprised to find Chase already seated in his chair toward the front. Rather than post up along one of the walls like she usually did, she made a beeline for him, conscious of passing two other squad members on her way. Fine. She didn't mind having an audience. Speaking to Chase was too important.
"Morning, Kingston." She leaned against the desk the local chief usually sat behind. Chase broke whatever reverie he was lost in to look at her. She saw a flicker of something pass across his face—was it excitement at seeing her?—but it was so quickly repressed in the next instant that she felt winded and delusional. The expression he wore was one of slack indifference.
"Hey."
"That's all I get? Just a hey?" She crossed her arms, keeping her tone casual, but she couldn't deny the lukewarm welcome stung.
Chase shrugged. "Sorry. That's all I got?"
"Late night?"
It was definitely not her imagination when he scowled. "For some people, it was."
"Chase?" She hated how small and hesitant her own voice sounded by comparison. She had been trying to keep their conversation private, but Chase's clipped responses were loud enough for everyone else to hear. "What's up? You know you can talk to me. If you'd prefer to go somewhere else, we could—"
"It's nothing," he interrupted. He rocked forward in his chair, and the way his boots hit the floor seemed to Sookie like intentional punctuation. She looked around the room, and realized the other squad members were looking anywhere but directly at the two of them.
What the fuck?
"Look alive, crew." Hank entered the room then, followed closely by the Cedar Springs chief.
Sookie shifted off the desk and alighted in her usual spot by the corner. She barely registered the assignments as they were doled out, her gaze trained on the back of Chase's neck as if she could ignite the close crop of his hair if she fixated hard enough. There were capable firemen in the room, right? So what was the harm in trying to go a little Firestarter?
Her thoughts about Chase were slightly kinder as soon as she was paired with one of the locals, Tony. She hadn't flown with him on an assignment before, and an hour later in the air, his inexperience still showed.
"Getting close to the trench," Tony muttered over the headset.
"Sorry? Could you say that louder?" she called back to him. She suspected she had heard correctly the first time, but still hoped to be proven wrong.
"I said the fire's creeping awfully close to the trench!" Tony responded. "We hadn't counted on it coming up against our barrier for at least a few more days."
"Shit," Sookie cursed below her breath—or at least, what she thought was below her breath. So much time spent up in the Hawk had trained her to make herself heard.
"You could say that again," Tony said. "But I wouldn't worry too much about it just yet. Just something we need to keep an eye on for now."
“Mmm hmmm,” Raj’s voice said in her ear, and she glanced over to catch his eye and nod. She could see from his expression that the copilot was equally unsettled by the fire’s unpredictable progress.
They touched down safely an hour later, and Tony took off to complete his report. He offered a friendly wave in parting, but Sookie barely registered it—she was too busy hunting the tarmac for a sign of Chase—or any other member of Hank's squad who might direct her to Chase. She saw no one. Must not be back from their assignment yet, she thought.
A low, warm wind picked up, buffeting her dark hair around her face. Sookie raised her chin to the sky and squinted. The sun hung like a baleful red pendulum above her.
It wasn't just Chase's cold-shoulder treatment that was getting to her.
Something wasn't right.
"The wind feels like it's changing," Sookie said out loud, a day later. "I don't like it."
Lana carried their usual tray of tea into the parlor and sat down. Neither woman leaned forward immediately to help herself. It was Sookie's day off, and they had planned this lunch together days ago, although neither appeared to be in the mood for lunching. There is something in the air, Sookie thought. Lana feels it, too.
The other woman appeared to be mulling over Sookie's words. She stared out the room's far window, thoughts swimming behind her eyes. Her hair was tied back from her neck today, and she looked as naturally and effortlessly elegant as she always did.
Sookie knew she sounded ominous, maybe even superstitious, and she appreciated the way her friend still took her seriously when she got this way. She mentally pinched herself and leaned in, then, to break the spell, snagging a sugar cookie off the tea tray. Her right leg jounced. Could be that Dyna had just made the coffee especially strong this morning, and that's why she was feeling so anxious all of a sudden.
Yeah, could be.
"What does Hank think?" Lana asked. Sookie snapped the cookie off with her teeth, loudly, and Lana held up her hands. "Sorry I asked."
"We talk . . . over the radio," Sookie admitted.
Lana smiled. "Sounds like progress to me."
Has he been by to see you yet? The question was on the tip of Sookie's lips to ask, but she quickly cemented her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. Easy to do, when your mouth was full of sweet, sugary, home-baked goodness. "Hank feels the same as me. I think. Say what you will about him . . . well, maybe you won't. I will say what I will about him, but he's a damn good fire chief."
"Is that what Chase told you?" Lana asked.
The cookie turned to ash in her mouth. Sookie glanced away quickly. "I don't want to talk about Chase."
"Yes, you do," Lana said simply. She poured a tall glass of cool tea and pushed it toward Sookie. "Everyone in town knows the two of you are together."
Sookie was grateful for the drink and quickly chugged some to prevent herself from choking on her surprise. "Small towns," she muttered darkly. "This is why I told myself I'd never live in one again."
She straightened her shoulders and turned to Lana. "If you want to know how Chase is doing, you should ask him yourself. Apparently he's over talking to me. It remains to be seen if he's over . . . other parts of me." She tried to sound callous about it, but she still felt a stab of pain, hearing herself say the words aloud. "Seriously, Lana, I'm thinking about calling the whole thing off. Chase is a known player back in his hometown, and I think his true colors are finally starting to show. I was just starting to think things might be . . ." She trailed off before she could say different. "—well, things are what they are. One minute, he seems crazy about me, and the next, the novelty's worn off." Sookie shrugged in an attempt to broadcast indifference. "It's fine. Hell, it's better this way. I call the shots in my life now. I knew I was playing with fire when I started this fling with Chase. Can't expect a leopard to change their spots, I guess—or whatever homey expression you might have for this occasion."
"I wouldn't say that at all," Lana corrected. Sookie glanced up in surprise; Lana laughed, and reached between them to grab her knee affectionately. "Darlin', I really don't think Chase is a player. He has a reputation, sure, but he seems like he's got a soft heart. Softer than yours," Lana said point-blank.
Sookie looked down guiltily. She had been so busy readying her shields that she hadn't even considered she was being unfair. "Not that you don't have every reason in the world to be guarded," Lana continued with another affectionate squeeze. "But trust me, Sookie dear, most men are just real insecure by nature . . . something I know all too well. Don't judge Chase just yet. Everyone else in his life does. Why not be the exception?"
"You're too good, Lana," Sookie blurted. Her eyes stung, but she couldn't be sure if it was the threat of tears. She wasn't a crier, normally. It was probably all the smoke in the air. "Us Logans are seriously not worthy of you."
"Oh, stuff it," Lana said, her face coloring a little at the compliment. She quickly snatched another cookie off the tray and thrust it toward Sookie. "Here. Eat this. It's sweeter than me, I promise."
"Doubtful," Sookie said, but obliged anyway. No matter how she might change, she had never been shy about her appetite—especially not where Lana's baking was concerned. Still, even the mouth-watering confections being pushed on her weren't enough to distract her from what had been said.
Maybe Lana was right. Maybe she needed to track down Chase and talk things out.
And she knew just the place to start.
Chapter 17
Chase
After a long and wearisome shift, Chase knew just the place he wanted to be.
With Sookie, said the voice in the back of his head that sounded disapprovingly—and disconcertingly—like the chief.
Of course, Chase retorted silently. There was no place he would rather be right now than naked in Sookie's arms after a passionate round or two of make-up sex . . . not that it would technically be make-up sex, considering neither of them had anything to make up for. So what if he had seen her kiss Jason? Didn't mean a thing. Certainly it didn't have anything to do with him.
Keep telling yourself that, Kingston.
The wind in and around Cedar Springs was picking up. It had everyone worried, although they only remarked on it in hushed voices—it was not much yet, and it was almost as if the squad feared the elements themselves might overhear and get ideas if they made any significant fuss about it. The local forecasts had been in their favor so far. Just because things had been going relatively predictably with the fire didn't mean disaster might be in the air.
Chase didn't like believing in something as clichéd as the calm before the storm, but the charged feeling in the air today made him wonder if there wasn't something to it after all.
He was approaching the front of Dyna's when he spotted Sookie in one of the windows. His heart leapt into his throat, and all thoughts of the jealousy he had been grappling with since the other night were thrust immediately aside. Whoever she was with, she was engaged and smiling and beatific. Chase realized in that moment that while he’d called her "angel" at first as a joke, and then as an affectionate work alias, he’d meant what he said. Anytime he conjured a mental image of an angel now—wings, halo, and all—it was Sookie he saw, outfitted to fly, staring up at him with amusement, defiance, and something else he thought he could put a word to, if only he would let himself believe—
Sookie leaned forward across the table and punched the shoulder of the person in the opposite seat. Chase craned to the side to get a better look.
Jason Lewis shied belatedly from her fist, as if it had been his intention all along to get socked in the first place.
Jason Lewis. Jason Lewis. Jason fucking Lewis.
Chase flashed back before he could stop himself. Standing there in the diner parking lot, he suddenly found himself in a different parking lot, staring into a different window, watching a different woman laugh gaily as she sat across from his best friend. Sheila. His first love, sitting with Adam. Laughing with Adam. Batting her eyes at Adam, the same way she would flutter them at Chase—but there was nothing to it, his inner voice told him, there was no call for jealousy, hell, you should be thankful that your best friend and the woman you hope to call your wife get along so well—
A little too well, as it turned out. That had been a month before Sheila dumped him and ran off with Adam. That was the month before Chase learned he wasn't enough to more than just his father, and he'd been fighting an uphill battle ever since to prove otherwise.
Now, he felt like he was tumbling back down into the abyss.
He didn't realize he'd crossed the parking lot until his hand was already on the door. He shoved it open, and the bell chimed so hard, it sounded like it was about to shake itself apart. A few heads turned to identify him, but Sookie's wasn't one of them.
He crossed purposefully to the booth she shared with Jason, aiming to loom as he stood over them. "The two of you look cozy."
"Chase!" Sookie's pretty face molded itself perfectly to a look of astonishment. "There you are! I was looking for you."
"It's a small town, Sook. I'd say you didn't go looking very hard."
He took some sadistic pleasure in watching her wince at the reviled nickname. "Of course I didn't look very hard. There's only one place you ever go for lunch. I was here waiting for you!" she protested. She swept a hand to indicate the counter. "Look behind you, Hotshot. There are two mugs of coffee. I even saved our usual seats."
Chase didn't want to look behind him and be proven wrong. And he definitely didn't want to be called Hotshot in front of fucking Jason. Had Sookie had a similar tongue-in-cheek nickname for her ex, once? The thought made his mouth sour, and a muscle in his jaw twitched. Whatever armor he had walked in with, he was in danger of having it stripped from him. "Yeah? Looks more like I'm interrupting lunch."
"Jason was already having lunch when I got here," she said. Her gaze shuttered suddenly, and she appeared to regret rising to his bait. "What's with you? First you won't even talk to me, and now you're pissed off? Did someone pee in your coffee this morning?"
"Uh, should I just . . .?" Jason shifted in his seat.
"Stay out of this," Chase growled. The other man quickly bowed his head. "Look, I don't know what's going on here, and frankly I don't care." He committed hard to the lie and made it all teeth. "But if I was the kind of guy who did care, I would be totally justified in feeling that the two of you seeing each other this much is bullshit."
"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror recently? You clearly are angry," Sookie said. Her eyes narrowed. "And if you were the kind of guy who cared—if you really were serious about me, then you would get that I don't like being told what to do."
"Are you really so . . . thickheaded?" Chase shouted.
Now everyone in the diner was definitely staring at them. Jason's mug of coffee was suspended in his fist, and his jaw was ajar, making him look exactly like the witless bore Chase had pegged him for. Good.
Sookie burst out with a mirthless laugh. "Thickheaded? Are you serious, Kingston?"
"Fuck yes, I'm serious!" Chase doubled down. "Because the way I see it, you're either screwing this guy, or you're too stupid to realize that's exactly what it looks like!"
Sookie hurled a coffee mug at him. Thankfully, it was the overturned, empty one that had been set at the place across from Jason. Chase caught it one-handed; he actually took a half-step backward as the pilot rose and stormed toward him.
"You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about," she hissed. "As usual!" She looked like she wanted to ram her pointer finger into his chest. Hell, Chase would have welcomed it. She had done it so often before in their arguments, it would have felt like a return to normalcy.
Instead, Sookie growled in frustration and threw up her hands. She stalked past him and banged the diner door on her way out, likely leaving Chase with the tab for their coffee.
Why did he suddenly feel like he deserved to pay?
"Er . . ." Jason cleared his throat, and Chase turned in bewilderment. He had almost forgotten the other man was there. "Care to sit down?"
Had Jason asked him a split second before, Chase would have told Sookie's ex where to shove his invitation. Now, all the wind had suddenly been taken out of his sails. He felt deflated, despicable . . . and watched. Half the diner looked as if they wanted to grab their pitchforks and run him out of town; the other half looked as if they couldn't believe their good luck in getting a free show over lunch.
He took Jason up on his offer and sat down.
"I know how it must look to you, seeing us together," Jason said. "But that's because you don't kn
ow the full story. Look." He slid his cellphone across the table. Chase stared down at the lock screen. It was a photo of Jason, smiling and hugging a laughing woman who . . . was not Sookie. “I'm engaged," Jason said patiently. "Sookie and I did date in the past, but we were just kids. We thought what we had was serious at the time, of course, but—" he shook his head. "We just weren't right for each other."
Chase stared at the other man. He couldn't conceive of a world where Sookie wasn't the right one.
"I really did come back to town to check on my parents' house," Jason emphasized. "I'm not here to win Sookie back. Hell, she would probably laugh in my face if I tried."
"I—" Chase's mouth was suddenly dry. He tried to take a sip of coffee and realized he was still holding the empty mug Sookie had thrown at him.
Dyna chose that moment to swoop in with a glass of water. She slammed it down wordlessly on a coaster in front of him, along with Sookie's bill. Chase didn't need to look to know that he had been overcharged.
God, how had he let this happen? He knew he was the youngest firefighter on the squad, but he had always prided himself on his maturity and professionalism—and despaired when it seemed like Hank never saw it. Now, suddenly, he understood the score. He was immature when it came to his personal life, and so was Sookie, for that matter. Neither of them had ever had the opportunity to grow beyond their first heartbreak. Worse yet, they had run from the chance to gain any relevant experience for fear of failing or being rejected.
No wonder the accusations and drinkware were flying.
"I'm an idiot," Chase concluded and slumped down in the booth.
Jason looked sympathetic. "We all are when it comes to women, man."
Chase's pocket buzzed before he could come up with a response. He pulled it out, saw that it was Hank, and quickly pressed it to his ear. "Kingston," he said. He wasn't sure he had expended every stupid word he was capable of, so he left it at that.