Ride

by Harper Dallas

  “I guess you want to get back to Alaska,” I add quickly.

  A breath huffs from Chase’s chest. “No.” Again he looks back to me, his tongue touching the curve of his lip. He tastes the words in his mouth before he ends my suspense. “I’m just hanging around.”

  I love you, he said. I’m not going anywhere. What would it be like if I believed him? If I trusted him?

  He went out on a limb, didn’t he? And now I have to try. I have to do the thing that scares me.

  I take a deep breath, smoothing my hands over my lap. “I’m going to be traveling a lot,” I say as steadily as I can. “So are you. And I know that’s—I know that’s really difficult. For a relationship.”

  I can’t read his face at all. He’s motionless as he watches me, his thoughts masked by his glasses.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. We have to ride, don’t we? No matter what the risks. No matter if we’ve been hurt before.

  I plow on. “You’ll be filming, and I’ll be traveling, but …”

  God, I wish he’d just let me see his eyes.

  “But I want to be with you. That’s what I want. For now. For later.” I can feel the blush spreading over my cheeks. “Is it crazy to say that? I mean it’s not been long, but—”

  Chase does take off his shades, though I don’t get time to read his face. He’s grabbing my hands. They’re so small in the wrap of his huge fingers, caught like trembling birds. But his hold isn’t a cage. It’s a gentle support, holding me up.

  “I don’t give a shit how long it’s been.” His face is earnest, open, his gaze heavy as if he tries to press the truth of the words into me. “When you know, you know.”

  His fingers press tighter around mine, his lips rolling for wetting on his tongue. Seriousness lines over his forehead. “I want you. Even if you do a job that fucking terrifies me. Even if you’ll be jumping around all over the place. I know when I’ve found something good, Brooke. I know you’re the only woman I want. I’m not letting you go.”

  It’s awkward, kissing over the table. A glass tips, and all that water seeps into the tablecloth and onto my elbow. It doesn’t matter. What matters is the way Chase’s mouth feels, and the cup of his hand to my cheek as he presses his forehead to mine.

  When Chase leans back his smile has a self-deprecating tinge. “I guess I’m playing it pretty uncool if I tell you I already booked my hotel for the whole weekend.”

  “Very uncool,” I tease, smiling so wide that my cheeks ache with happiness.

  “Are you sure this isn’t insane?”

  It feels insane, looking through the glass into the museum coffee shop where Mom and Pop-pop wait to meet me. The two sides of my life seems so different from each other. I’m not sure if the puzzle pieces will fit. My family, cozy and normal. Chase, the world-famous extreme athlete. They both mean so much to me, but it feels like they come from different worlds.

  Chase laughs, turning his face to mine as he squeezes my hand. “I’m totally sure this is insane. But I don’t care.” His voice drops, his eyes searching mine. “I know what I want, Brooke. How about you?”

  It would never have occurred to me to introduce Chase to my family so quickly. But it seems sneaky to have him in the city for the weekend and only go back to his room at night. I’m not ashamed of him, and I’m not ashamed of them, either.

  And more than that—I don’t want to spend a moment away from him.

  I squeeze his hand in mine, and leap.

  “It’s what I want.”

  I still feel nervous as we walk in. My hands are clammy no matter how often I rub them against my dress.

  … The same dress I wore yesterday. Oh my god. My family are going to know exactly what I spent the night doing.

  It’s too late to back out. We’re already on our way into the café, Chase holding the huge glass door open for me. My heart hammers in my chest. They’re the people who’ve always been there for me: Mom with her flyaway hair and her maxi dress, Pop-pop in a bright shirt and shorts, his glasses low on his nose as he looks at the brochure.

  I take a deep breath. Chase rests his hand at the small of my back, and unseen his thumb slides soothingly over my spine.

  It gives me the strength to clear my throat. “Hi. Sorry I’m—sorry we’re late.”

  Mom is on her feet before she notices that there’s a man standing beside me. The man, the one I cried over. I can see a flash of recognition go through her. She must have seen him on the live stream last night.

  She pulls me in close for a hug before letting me fall back, her hands still pressed lightly to my shoulders. “Honey, it’s so lovely to see you.” I can see she has no idea what to say, her eyes flicking upward to Chase before returning to me. “And …?”

  “This is Chase,” I say quickly. That’s the easy bit. The rest …

  But I don’t need to worry about what I introduce him as. Chase is already holding out a hand, his smile warm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  Mom is clearly as surprised by his manners as I am. Her hands flutter briefly before she takes his. “Oh. Chase. Please, Heather is fine.”

  Pop-pop takes a while to creak to his feet. He’s still tall though, tall as the younger man from my childhood memories. He can look Chase straight in the eye, and for one terrifying second that’s all he does.

  “Brendan Larson,” Pop-pop says finally, his smile spreading as he offers a steady hand.

  Relief spreads warm through my chest. Trust Pop-pop to take everything in his stride.

  Chase shakes his hand firmly. “Good to meet you, sir.”

  Pop-pop doesn’t correct him. I hardly notice it. I’m surprised enough by Chase’s manners. I’ve never seen him be formal before. Maybe it makes sense after what he said about his dad. I must be gawping like a fish, and he’s so calm and collected.

  He smiles reassuringly down at me. “We’re waiting to meet Alex here, right? I’ll grab us some drinks. Heather, Mr. Larson—can I get you anything?”

  Once Chase has gone Pop-Pop pulls me into a squeeze, pressing a whiskery kiss to my forehead. After he releases me I can see the mischievous grin he’s trying to hide under a straight face.

  “I take it this young man is courting you, then.”

  Mom’s worry is broken by her laugh. “Courting? Dad, it’s not your high school days anymore.”

  I laugh too. It’s easier to tell the truth when we’re joking. It makes it feel safe, rather than the amazing, terrifying, nerve-wracking wonder which still shivers over my skin. “Yes, this is my gentleman caller.”

  Pop-pop’s smile doesn’t falter. It should be just the same joke. But there’s something different in his eyes. “And you trust him to take care of you?”

  Yes. It’s too much to say. But I nod, and take a deep breath. “More than anything.”

  Pop-pop knows I cried over Chase. He knows it was complicated. I know it will take time for trust to grow between them. But his smile is as true as it is slow to spread.

  “Then that’s enough for me.”

  Later we walk along the beach, Alex cuddling up to me and Mom asking for all the gossip. I watch as Chase and Pop-pop walk ahead, deep in conversation, and I know everything is going to be all right.

  34

  We only came back to my hotel to gather my things and move them over to Chase’s room. Our room. We don’t have much time. In an hour we’re meeting Mom, Pop-pop, and Alex for a late dinner.

  For the first time in so long, I don’t want anything more. I already have it all. Chase. My family. My career. Everything is perfect.

  The world can be an ass, though. It would be today that Trent is in the hotel lobby, sitting chatting with a pretty blonde.

  I haven’t seen Trent in years. Of course he’s still in the papers occasionally. The boarding gear company he owns is doing well, so sometimes he’s featured beside news about that. His films are still shown in snowboarding clubs. Occasionally he’s called upon for an interview or a recommendatio
n.

  But I haven’t seen him. Not since I was five years old, and he dropped by the house to shout at Mom over the child support case.

  He still looks like Peter Pan. That’s what I heard Mom call him once. His clothes are too young for him, his slight middle-aged paunch visible under a try-hard T-shirt. He’s a handsome man—I can admit that—and I can see the stunning green of the eyes he gave me. But there’s something too polished about him. Something wrong.

  How did he know I would be here? I guess he could find out where Illuminations winners were put up by the sponsorship company. He does know everyone.

  Chase’s arm tightens over my shoulders. “Brooke?”

  It hits me like a fist to the gut. Chase looks up to Trent. Maybe we’re in a relationship, maybe I matter to Chase … but Trent-the-snowboarder is Chase’s hero. Even if Trent-my-dad is an asshole.

  And nothing is more important to Chase than his boarding.

  I feel like I’m going to be sick. I can hardly raise my eyes to Chase’s. They’re so very blue, bright beneath his crumpled brow.

  “What do you want?” Chase murmurs. His hand rises so that he can delicately reroute a curl of my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Do you want me to stay?”

  I can’t talk at all. My heart is beating painfully hard, struggling against the cage of my ribs.

  Chase’s eyes tick between mine, searching for answers. He’s trying to keep a smile, though he’s failing. Concern narrows his eyes and thins his lips. “I can go wait in your room.” He almost makes it steady. “You haven’t seen him in years, right?” He squeezes my shoulder gently. “You should have time with him, if you want. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

  Trent hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s chatting to the woman beside him, giving that too-loud laugh of his that grates fake in my ears.

  I’ve been fumbling in my purse for my room key, but instead my fingers find my key chain. The one Chase gave me. It’s so simple. It’s not diamonds or pearls. Just that little leather loop. A reminder of something we shared together.

  Trent hasn’t given me a gift in all my life. Not one birthday. Not one Christmas. The only thing he’s given me is what the State of California ordered him to, and even that Mom had to fight for.

  I read an interview he did, once. The reporter asked: Do you see yourself settling down and starting a family sometime? How would you be able to balance that with the risks of what you do?

  And Trent said: I can’t see myself ever having kids. I’m just not the fathering type.

  I was eleven years old.

  Now he’s here, because I won some big award and suddenly I’m good enough for him to care about.

  And Chase …

  Chase isn’t going to him. Chase isn’t looking at Trent like he’d look at a hero. Chase isn’t looking to Trent at all. He’s looking at me, only at me, his expression fraught with concern. With care.

  I slide my arm tighter about his hips, anchoring myself to his strength. “I don’t want to see him.”

  Chase looks steadily into my eyes, his fingers cupped about my shoulders. “Are you sure?”

  It’s a real question. It doesn’t mean you should, or I’m glad, because I don’t want you to. He’s really asking me.

  Because to Chase, what I want matters.

  I try to pull together a smile to show him how grateful I am. I can feel it weak and faltering over my lips. I hope Chase knows, anyway. “I’m sure.”

  Chase’s fingers squeeze so lightly. “Okay. Do you want me to tell him to leave?”

  I shake my head. “No. I want to tell him myself.”

  Trent is on his feet in a second as I stride over, his grin too wide over eerily white teeth. “Brooke! About time. We’ve been waiting here all day. Lucky the bar snacks are good.” He laughs that same too-loud laugh, as if it’s all forgiven. As if there’s anything to forgive. “It’s good to see you. Congratulations.”

  I could hit him. I could bury my fist in his face and scream out all of my anger and all of my hurt. But instead I smile the tight-lipped smile Mom had, when I was a kid asking about my dad and she tried so hard to give me someone to look up to.

  He’s a very talented man. He works very hard and is away a lot. He just isn’t very good with people. He’s very busy.

  He’s not busy. He’s a bastard.

  “Why are you here?” I snap.

  Trent slides a look sideways toward the blonde, giving a fake what are kids like? laugh. “Come on, Brooke. I know it’s been a while.” He leaps on an avenue of escape, his eyes darting to Chase and a hand stuck out with a dazzling grin. “Chase, how are you doing? It’s been too long. I’m still gutted I didn’t make it to the Harder premier. Nice work, man.”

  Of course they’ve met. It cuts tender things inside of me. But this time Chase doesn’t say, I look up to him, or I want to be like him. He just stares in sullen silence, his own hand remaining stubbornly at his side, and inside his eyes something burns.

  Eventually Trent drops his unshaken hand. Confusion flickers over his face before he recovers his jocular grin. “I can’t imagine anyone better for my daughter. Not that you’re good enough, of course. No man ever is, right?”

  Chase’s rumble of laughter isn’t friendly at all. He has no interest in masculine camaraderie. I was so worried I’d see respect between them, but instead Chase’s lip is curled with disdain. When he turns his face down to mine he nudges me with his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

  “We thought we could go to dinner,” the woman chirps in, her smile as fake as her boobs. “Just the three—the four of us. Get some photos of the happy reunion.”

  I know Trent’s an asshole, but this is beneath even him. I’m so angry I can hardly speak. “Is this woman a journalist?”

  Trent touches my shoulder, his hold insistent though I try to shrug it off. “Don’t be like that, Brooke. It’ll be fun, right? Just a nice catch up.”

  I shove his hand away. “One catch up? After you’ve ignored me forever?”

  A frown spreads over Trent’s forehead. His voice lowers, conspiratorial, as he leans forward and tries to soothe me as if I were a fractious child. “Come on now. Let’s not do this here. What’s one dinner, huh?”

  “I don’t want to have dinner with you,” I spit back. “I don’t want to do anything with you.”

  Trent’s face hardens. “Brooke.” His tone has an edge of warning. “Come to dinner. Don’t you owe your old man that?”

  Chase isn’t rough. He’s simply there, putting the solid bulk of his body between us. With the plant of his hands to Trent’s chest he pushes the other man back, fluid strength bunching in his biceps.

  Chase’s voice is quiet, but that doesn’t mean anything. The force of his words is undeniable, raw potential crackling. “You need to leave.”

  “Excuse me?” Trent sizes up to him, something ugly flashing over his face. “Who the fuck are you to tell me when I need to leave my daughter alone?”

  Chase doesn’t budge. He stands there immobile, staring down at Trent with hatred smoldering in his eyes. The muscles beneath his T-shirt have gone tense, all that potential quivering.

  “Leave,” he growls. “It’s what you’re good at, isn’t it?”

  Trent splutters with shock before he can find words. “How fucking dare you. I’m going to dinner with my daughter. Understood?”

  His shout makes me flinch. I duck away from the reach of his arm. I don’t want it. I don’t want any of this. How is this happening? Chase and Trent one second away from going for each other’s throats, adrenaline quivering over their bodies.

  At his side Chase’s hands clench into fists. He steps closer, forcing Trent to strain to see up to him. His voice drops to a threatening low. “I am not letting you hurt her.”

  The moment hangs fragile in the air. The journalist is clearly delighted to get a scoop, even if it’s not the one she’d planned. From the way she reaches for Trent’s arm I’m sure that they’re fucking.
<
br />   “Come on, honey,” she whispers. “Let’s calm this down, okay?”

  A doorman steps up beside us, his voice low as if he doesn’t want to create a disturbance. As if this isn’t a disturbance already. “I’m going to have to ask you to break this up, gentlemen.”

  I expect the worst. Chase won’t be able to back down and Trent won’t either. Unlike that guy in Laax, Trent’s also used to being the very best. In that one way he and Chase are alike. It’s going to get ugly, and the horror of it aches in my chest. I might hate Trent, but I don’t want Chase to hurt him. I don’t want Chase to get in trouble.

  Chase’s eyes flick to me, seeing the tremble of my body. A deep breath cracks through his chest before he looks back to Trent one last time, his expression dripping with contempt.

  I can see the moment that he decides to be the bigger man.

  “You stay away from her,” he growls in warning, before wrapping his arm around me in tight possession and pressing a fierce kiss to my hair.

  “Come on, Brooke. Let’s get out of here.”

  He still doesn’t want me.

  I know it’s stupid to get upset about it. It’s not anything I didn’t know before. Trent doesn’t deserve one minute of my time, let alone any of my tears. But as we ride up the elevator, I turn my face away from Chase and try to hide the frantic flutter of my lashes. In my throat disappointment burns, a solid lump of pain.

  No matter how ridiculous it is, I’ve always hoped Trent would change. I know I can be closed off. I know I can be cold. I know about my emotional Kevlar. But under all of it, there’s always been the little girl wondering when her dad will want her.

  And now that little girl knows that her dad only wants her for a fucking photo shoot.

  Chase tries to pull me into his arms when we reach my room, but I break away. I don’t want him to see the traitorous glistening in my eyes.

  “You should grab yourself a Coke or something.” I try to make my voice sound airy, waving my arm toward the minibar. “There probably won’t be—Bollinger or whatever they have in your room.”