Chasing Each Other

by J. D. Rivera

  He took a step back and I took a step forward. He wasn’t getting rid of me. “I can assure you, I’m not. Now, can I please see your daughter?” My patience was dwindling.

  “I’m not sure…”

  I knew what I was about to do was a dick move, but I needed to see her. I whipped out my badge. “Detective Nicholson, OCPD, I need to speak to Miranda Clark about an ongoing investigation.”

  “What the hell?” he roared. “Why’d you lie about being her boyfriend and what has Miranda gotten messed up in this time? I swear, that girl is full of mistakes.”

  Good to know he gave her the benefit of the doubt. “She isn’t mixed up in anything and I am her boyfriend.” I began stepping forward. “Now, which way can I find her?”

  “Upstairs, second door on the right.”

  “Thanks, sir.” Her dad liking me was a problem I’d have to fix, but right now, I only cared about her, and I didn’t care how I had to get to her.

  Chapter 29

  Miranda

  As soon as I spilled my guts to Brad, I drove back to my apartment, grabbed some clothes, and ran back to my parents’ house in Maverick. I could still see the horror and disgust on his face. He hadn’t said anything and I didn’t need him to. I knew everything we had was over.

  I arrived at my parents late in the night, for which I was glad. They were already in bed, which meant I could go in my old room and cry without having to explain myself. I stripped off my clothes and threw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt I found in one of my old drawers before crawling under the covers.

  The blankets gave me comfort as they wrapped around me, almost cocooning, and muffled my cries into the pillow. I had no clue what I would tell my parents in the morning, but for the night, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything.

  I had lost the one person who made me feel loved and special all because he didn’t know the real me. As soon as he saw the real me, he was horrified. Just like I thought he would be.

  And Preston was dead. I wanted to weep for the guy I had originally met—the sweet, caring boyfriend—but I also felt relieved. I wouldn’t have to deal with his harassing messages and calls anymore, but more than that, I wouldn’t have him to persuade me to go back to drugs.

  Alone. That’s all I’ll ever be.

  I cried harder into my pillow, letting my dark thoughts consume me.

  At some point, I fell asleep, exhausted from hours of crying. I woke to a knock on my door, before my mother poked her head inside. I wasn’t quite sure why she bothered with knocking.

  “Miranda?”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, my mouth parched.

  “We saw your car in the driveway. When did you get here?”

  I sat up, scooting toward the headboard. “I don’t know. Late.”

  “You’ve been crying. Do you want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head. “Not right now.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, her eyes full of concern. I knew what she was thinking. “Mom, it has nothing to do with drugs. Okay? Don’t worry.”

  “You’re my daughter. Of course I’m going to worry.”

  Tears began to flow down my cheeks and she moved closer to cradle me in her arms. “I just…needed…to get away.”

  “Shh. It’s okay. College is hard. I understand that sometimes you just need a break,” she whispered, holding me. I could hear the worry in her voice, but I couldn’t tell her what happened. Not yet.

  I cried for several minutes as my mom held me. I felt like a child, but I couldn’t stop. My entire world had come crashing down, shattering into small pieces with no hope of ever being put back together.

  “Hey,” my mom soothed. “Why don’t you come downstairs and let me fix you breakfast? I’ll make your favorite blueberry waffles.”

  I nodded and pulled away from her. “Just let me use the bathroom first.”

  After she left, I padded into the bathroom to relieve myself. I finished and washed my hands, gazing at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked dead and my face was pale except the red blotches caused from my tears. I looked sick.

  Not bothering to change my clothes, I left my bedroom and walked to the kitchen.

  I hadn’t even sat down before my dad started in. “Miranda? Tell us what’s wrong,” he demanded.

  “She’ll tell us when she’s ready. Just let her sit and enjoy her breakfast.”

  I sat down in the chair across from my dad at the table. Tears welled in my eyes as he gazed at me, disappointment in his eyes. Why was I such a fuck up? I had hurt my parents by getting hooked on coke, had hurt Brad by tricking him into dating me, and now I was hurting my parents again by not saying anything, making them worry.

  “Here,” my mom said, setting a plate on the table in front of me. I wiped the tears away and stared at the waffles. I shouldn’t have let my mom make them. There was absolutely no way I would be able to eat them—my stomach was in knots.

  “Miranda,” my dad began.

  “I promise it’s not what you think, Dad,” I said, hoarsely. “Please, just have some faith in me.” At that moment, I questioned why I had fled to my parents’ house. Because you have no one else to turn to.

  “If you’re in trouble, you need to tell us. We can’t get you help unless you tell us.” He was almost pleading with me.

  I scraped my waffle with my fork, not looking at him. I couldn’t. “I’m not on drugs again, Dad!” I shouted.

  “Then what is it?”

  “Give her some time,” my mom scolded. “She’s obviously already upset. Don’t make it worse.”

  I stared at the waffles for what seemed like hours before I glanced up. My mom and dad were quietly drinking coffee, sitting perfectly still. “I’m going back to bed.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “I will, Dad,” I promised. “I just can’t right now. Maybe after I wake up. Or maybe…tomorrow.” I didn’t want to make him a false promise and honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to talk about so soon.

  “Did he try to hurt you again?” my dad asked.

  I knew he was talking about Preston. “No, he didn’t.”

  They both nodded and I walked back to my room. As much as I wanted to let sleep take me, my teeth felt disgusting. I walked into the bathroom and pulled the drawer open, looking for a new toothbrush. I found one in a package and eyed the brand new razor next to it. Was it fate telling me to finally do it? Finally cut myself open? I had never wanted to die, I just wanted to release all of the bad blood from my system. It ate away at me. Made me feel dirty. Now, I wasn’t so sure. What did I really have to live for? A constant void within myself, making me feel hollow? A need to constantly replace my addiction with something else that could fill it? A life of being alone, constantly chasing something I would never truly reach again?

  Brad made me feel better. He filled my void. And now he was gone, too.

  I brushed my teeth and rinsed. My eyes landed on the razor again and this time, I picked it up. I held it in my hand, weighing my options. Would this actually make me feel better, or was it just something else for me to use?

  “What are you doing?” a voice whispered.

  Shocked, I dropped the razor to the floor as my heart tried to beat out of my chest. I fell back toward the wall, eyeing Brad, who was leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets.

  My breathing became erratic and panic coursed through my veins. Why is he here?

  I could see him coming closer, as if he was in a tunnel. Spots blurred my vision and I closed my eyes as two strong arms wrapped around me. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” I gasped for air. What is happening to me? “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

  His voice was soothing and I tried to focus on controlling my breathing, just as he had instructed. He stroked my back for several minutes in a soothing manner and I began to feel better. Black spots were no longer blurring my vision and my heart was beating at a normal pace.

  “You better?” he
whispered.

  I nodded, not knowing what to say. His hands slowly slid up my body until they were cupping my cheeks, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth. “Please, tell me you weren’t thinking about using that razor on yourself.”

  I stared into his glassy, tear-filled eyes. “I…why are you here?” I whispered.

  “You were, weren’t you?” he asked, anguish covering his face.

  I didn’t answer, I couldn’t, and he closed his eyes, sucking in a breath.

  “I’m here because I love you.” His eyes flashed open as he placed a kiss on my forehead. “You ran out on me yesterday and I didn’t get a chance to respond.”

  “I didn’t want to hear you say we were over.”

  “Why would we be over, beautiful?”

  I sucked in a startled breath. Did he want me to say it all again? “Because I’m an addict—always will be—and I never told you.”

  He held my stare, stroking my cheek again. “You’re right, you should’ve told me.” He sighed. “But I understand why you didn’t. And honestly, if I had found out before I fell for you, I probably wouldn’t have pursued anything with you. I’ve seen too many relapses, but for you…I’d go through anything with you.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  He kissed each trail my tears left behind and then rubbed his nose against mine. “I’m saying, I’ve spent my life chasing you without knowing it. And I think you’ve done the same. We’ve been chasing each other to get to this moment. That’s a lifetime of work and I’m not throwing it away.”

  My tears fell harder as I fisted his shirt and rested my head against his chest. He still wants me. He knows the real me and still wants me.

  One arm cradled me as the other stroked my back. “You’re crying an awful lot. Spending your life with me won’t be that bad, will it?”

  And that was just one of the reasons I loved him. He could make me laugh, no matter what. I lifted my head and stared into his eyes. “It doesn’t sound bad at all. It sounds kind of amazing. And I agree, if we’ve been chasing each other to this moment, you holding me, loving me, flaws and all, I’m not going to mess with that.”

  His lips crashed into mine, causing me to gasp. The kiss was a surprise and little hard at first, but then he gentled his movements, stroking my lips with his before pulling back. “We should probably go downstairs and let me suck up to your dad.”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “I may have pulled out my badge and told him I needed to question you about a case so he would let me inside.” He cringed a little before continuing. “And I wasn’t lying. I might have come here to get you back personally, but you still need to be questioned. You were the last person to talk to Preston.”

  My eyes rounded. I was part of the investigation? “But I didn’t really talk to him. I just accidentally hit ‘accept’ instead of ‘ignore’. I yelled into the phone about him being the worthless one, but I was kinda in shock and have no idea what he was saying. I just remember hearing him yell at me and then I was the one yelling. As soon as I finished, I hit ‘end’.”

  “Shh. You can tell all that to the detective. Although, I am proud of you for standing up for yourself.”

  “Aren’t you the detective?” I asked, confused.

  “No. I’m a little too close to the case.” He kissed me. “Since I hate the victim and wish I could’ve strangled him with my bare hands, I don’t think I’d do my job very well.”

  “Okay,” I said, still shocked he wanted me. “I guess we should let you suck up to my dad then.”

  Chapter 30

  Brad

  Relief flooded me knowing I hadn’t lost Miranda, but I couldn’t stop picturing her with that razor in her hand. It scared the living shit out of me. If nothing else, I was going to make sure her pieces were put back together.

  She grabbed my hand and led me down the stairs into the living room where her parents were sitting. Wrapping her arm around mine, she pulled me forward and cleared her throat. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Brad Nicholson. Brad, meet my parents, Judy and Harold.”

  Her dad glared at me, but I couldn’t blame him. Her mom, on the other hand, hopped up and took my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry we haven’t heard much about you. Our Miranda isn’t much of a sharer.”

  I eyed Miranda out of the corner of my eye, letting her know how much I agreed with her mother. “It’s nice to meet you as well.” I stuck my hand out toward her dad. He reluctantly took my hand, gripping it hard, not saying a word.

  “Dad,” Miranda warned. She sighed then gestured for us to sit on the couch. I don’t think I had ever been as uncomfortable as I was in that moment. “I guess I should tell y’all what happened,” she said as we sat down.

  “That would be nice,” her dad replied sharply.

  I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She blew out a breath then began. “Preston’s de…dead,” she said shakily. I hated the way she seemed affected by the news, but I knew, no matter what else had happened, she shared a past with him. A past that hadn’t always been bad.

  “Good!” her dad replied, breaking me out of my thoughts as her mother scolded him. “Harold!”

  “Mom, Dad, please just let me get this out,” Miranda pleaded. Glancing over at her, I noticed the tears trailing down her cheeks. This was hurting her and her dad didn’t seem to care.

  I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer to me. “It’s okay,” I whispered in her ear.

  Sniffling, she continued, “Brad is, or was, the homicide detective working Preston’s case. Last night, he questioned me about my number showing up on Preston’s call history. I freaked out because, up until last night, Brad had no idea about my…my addiction. I came here because I figured Brad would end things with me and I needed to be somewhere far away.”

  “Oh, honey,” her mom said as she moved to sit on the other side of Miranda. She glanced at me and then her daughter. “I take it you were wrong, so that’s good.”

  “She was absolutely wrong.” I locked gazes with her dad, who I was beginning to think was a complete asshole. “Your daughter is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing her just that.”

  Her dad cleared his throat. “Well, I guess you’re right, my daughter is…”

  “Wonderful, sweet, caring?”

  “Yes, she is,” her mom answered. Standing up, she clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go have lunch at Jan’s Diner? We can get to know Brad a little better.”

  I didn’t move. I didn’t want to go, but it was Miranda’s decision. It took her a minute before she nodded and said, “Sure.”

  ***

  An hour later, I was sitting in a worn booth at Jan’s Diner. It reminded me of the diner my mom managed, but smaller. “You know, Mackenzie used to work here back in high school,” Miranda said.

  I guess that explained why she hadn’t needed any training working for my mom. “Really?” I said, knowing Miranda was just trying to fill the silence.

  “You know Mackenzie?” her mom questioned.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Mackenzie is how Miranda and I met.”

  “Oh.”

  Her dad tossed his menu on the table. “You’re a detective? You must’ve been on the force for a while then.”

  I knew Harold Clark’s game. He wanted to see how much older I was than his daughter. “I am. I’ve been on the force a few years now.”

  A tall lanky kid approached our table. “Hey, Miranda. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  She smiled at the guy. “Hi, Austin. Yeah, I don’t get back here much. What’ve you been up to?”

  “Not a lot. Just working for my dad.” He glanced at me and then back at her. “Hey, did Preston ever get a hold of you?”

  Miranda’s body stiffened beside me and I placed my hand on her thigh, squeezing gently to let her know everything was okay. In fact, I was almost positive this kid was ab
out to fill us in on something. “Um, yeah.”

  “Cool. I gave him your new number. He said he really wanted to talk to you.” He glanced at me again. “I hope I didn’t cause any problems.”

  Fuck yes he had caused problems, but I knew that wasn’t what he was apologizing for. He was apologizing because I was with Miranda. I shook my head no. “Guys can call her all they want. I have no worries.” Small lie.

  “How did you have my new number?” Miranda asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

  “You gave it to me when we ran into each other last winter, remember? We were at the Pizza Oven.”

  Her mouth dropped open in a silent ‘O’. Blinking a few times, she finally collected herself. “Of course. Sorry. Yeah, I remember now. It was during Christmas break.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’ll let y’all get back to eating. It was nice seeing you.”

  “You, too,” Miranda said. After he walked away, Miranda’s body slumped in what I knew was relief. She turned to me. “That’s how he got my number. This whole time I wondered. I was scared that he knew where I lived and everything. I guess he didn’t. Just my number.”

  I nodded and squeezed her thigh again.

  Silence filled the table as her parents stared at us and I had no clue what to say after that. I wasn’t going to explain anything. That was up to Miranda.

  “He’s a homicide detective. I mean, Brad is,” Miranda blurted, trying to change the subject back to me.

  Her dad nodded as his eyes narrowed on me. “And how old—”

  “I’m twenty-nine.” Normally I wouldn’t disrespect the father of the girl I was dating, but Harold would have to earn my respect. Earn it by treating his daughter well. And so far, I hadn’t picked up on that at all. I could still see him standing at the door, asking me what Miranda had gotten messed up in this time, saying she was full of mistakes. He acted like it was a common occurrence and that pissed me off. Shouldn’t he be giving his daughter the benefit of the doubt?

  “Don’t you think that’s quite an age gap?”

  I shrugged as Miranda answered. “Age doesn’t matter. I dated a guy the same age as me and look how well that turned out. I think it’s better this way. He actually knows how to treat me.”