“What happened to the dream?”
“It came true.”
Flat and sardonic, Chase’s words hit Pyper hard.
“Losing him wrecked me, as everyone in the world seems to know, but with a lot of help, I fought my way to a better place.”
Drinks and food arrived. He peeled away the thick tomato slice and the onions while Pyper opted to decrease her offering by three large circlets of dill pickles. Following a cheeky wink, he swiped her pickles and Pyper laughed. But then, he drew up short. He backed off and looked away.
Pyper absorbed his somewhat awkward withdrawal. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I was distracted and in a hurry this morning. I was anxious to get to the meeting and everything. Had to run back in and grab this, then I forgot about it until now.” He tried to be dismissive while he hiked a silver container from his jeans pocket and dropped a few pills into his palm. As though wanting to stem any concern, he addressed her quickly. “Antabuse and some vitamins. I forgot to take them before I left.”
She wanted him to know the medication didn’t scare her—only his need for it. She stilled his hand for a second then worked his fingers gently open so she could examine the doses. She gave his forearm a squeeze that she hoped conveyed support. “Ironic, isn’t it, that the pill is formed in the shape of a stop sign?”
Chase grinned, relaxing a trace. “Very true.”
A few seconds later, the medicine was washed down with iced water. The stark reality of the addiction he fought created a dual-force reaction—respect for his commitment to recovery, and fear for her heart. What was she doing? She was increasingly attracted to a man who battled the demon of addiction. Wasn’t she smart enough to recognize trouble on the horizon and protect herself from pain?
But for the first time since meeting Chase, confronting his past—and her own—didn’t fill her with dread. Rather, in the face of his quiet determination, when she came upon the added layer of embarrassment she sensed at his medicinal interruption, Pyper felt nothing but admiration. She could work with that emotion.
“You don’t have to be worried, right? I mean, it’s not like you’ll be drinking or anything…you’re doing OK.”
“Yeah, but for the time being, when I take this, it’s much easier to fight temptation.”
“How so? Do you mind me asking?”
“I don’t mind. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
“Absolutely.”
Chase didn’t speak right away. Instead, he studied her for a time, as if somehow gauging her temperament. Did he worry about condemnation? Judgment? Pyper waited in the soft-building silence, determined to meet him halfway and try to understand the places he had been, the circumstances he faced. If they were somehow expected to forge a path ahead, professionally that is, she could do no less.
“I spent four months at Reach’s founding facility in South Carolina. Everyone thought it would be best for me to leave Nashville for a while and get out of the spotlight so I could find my feet with some peace and privacy. When I first started rehab, I was a self-absorbed, cocky jerk. I thought for sure I could control my impulse toward alcohol. I was convinced they could preach and teach all they wanted about twelve-step philosophies and self-love and the whole touchy-feely thing. Shocker, right? Me having an attitude?”
Only because she knew he had learned, and grown, Pyper allowed his wry entrée to stir a smile accompanied by a brief chuckle.
“When I was first administered anti-addiction drugs, I told ’em flat out there was no way I couldn’t control myself. I knew…I just knew…I could still enjoy a social drink, a light buzz, every once in a while. I refused delivery on my dependence. Completely denied it. I offered no apology, no willingness to change my world when it was everyone else who was off kilter.”
Pyper braced, steeling herself against the dark places Chase had inhabited, the parallel path her life had taken down a painful road littered by empty liquor bottles, physical pain, and despair.
Stretching his legs, Chase leaned back in his chair. “In a tightly controlled environment, rehab specialists gave me the chance to prove my theory. What they really did was give me a chance to fall flat without anyone having to learn from the lesson but me.”
“How so?”
“I took the medicine as prescribed, but I told ’em I wanted a beer. They let me have one. Went down good, too, all cold, wheat-filled and tasty. I wanted another. They let me have it. Let’s just say that one didn’t taste nearly as good, and it certainly didn’t stay in my system for long.”
“Retraining your body, and its cravings.”
“Exactly. I’m stubborn, though.”
“We have that in common.”
Chase delivered an accepting grin. “I battled every step of the way, wanting to prove them wrong. I wanted liquor that much. I shudder to think what my preferred drink—whiskey—would have done to my insides.”
“All the while, they were breaking a stallion.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it. Moral of the story is, when I know the Antabuse is in my system, I remember the times the folks at Reach taught me to fall, and rise again. I can battle the temptation. I can overcome it because in the end, if I don’t, I’ll be sick—literally and figuratively.”
While they ate, Pyper considered everything he had revealed. “What was the hardest thing for you to handle during rehab?”
“That’s easy. Guilt.”
Pyper reared back. “Guilt?”
His chest rose and fell, drawing her attention to the clean, crisp lines of his dress shirt, his broad, strong shoulders. “I had to come to terms with surviving.” There he stalled, and studied his folded hands, avoiding a direct connection. “Shay was so much better than me. He had so much to live for, so much in his life that was worthwhile. So much to offer. Why did God take him instead of me? It’s a struggle I still deal with on my bad days. It should have been me, not him.”
“Chase…no…please, no.” She pleaded, because his words tore at a soft spot in her spirit, a spot that opened to him in spite of pain, in spite of fear.
“Physically I was a mess. I wasn’t used to illness. Then there were a lot of emotions I had to get under control. I had to learn to forgive myself for all the way’s I’d failed. That’s something else I struggle with. Guess that’s where ‘Burning Bridges’ and ‘Forgiveness’ came from.” Chase chowed on his burger and polished off his lunch.
While conversation paused, in spite of the heavy topic at hand, it occurred to Pyper that the meal and the company went down surprisingly easy.
At last, he met her gaze and delivered an eloquent smile; his look lingered. She was drawn to the man like magnets to steel. Needing something cold and bracing in her system, Pyper sipped through the straw of a condensation-kissed plastic tumbler, savoring the peppery-sweet burst of cherry cola.
“OK. My turn. I want to know your story, Pyper. All of it.”
Her head dipped and curls of hair fell across her shoulder, sliding against her arm. She noticed the way Chase watched as she tucked them away quickly—nervously. A shy glance followed. His attention never once wavered. Pyper had to admit she loved that fact.
“I hit a nerve with you, and I never saw it coming. I’m sorry for that. Truly. Obviously you have a history about which I’m completely unaware. That shocked me. What black marks, what fears, could your past possibly have, Pyper? You’ve been raised by parents who embody everything that’s good and decent. You have a great family.”
“I do. They’re my greatest blessing, but that doesn’t mean my life has been perfect, Chase. Not by miles.”
“So then, tell me about it. Please? Tell me about you.”
So very tempting, but Pyper deflected on sheer instinct. “C’mon. For the most part, I’m an open book.”
“No, you’re not.”
She froze, and he took hold of her hand, carefully and gently, as though begging her forward with nothing more than the sliding touch of his thumb agains
t her wrist. She dissolved. Pyper tried to gather herself, but couldn’t hold back from him any longer. Nor did she want to. This man was remarkable—battered and healed, just like her—though he had no idea of that commonality. Not yet, anyway. After his openness, how could she refuse to be equally straightforward and honest?
Following that moment of truth, she found the words she sought. “Not many people outside of a select few know this, but…my dad…Tyler Brock…he’s not my biological father.”
She waited for shock, for a surprised exclamation of some sort. Chase remained steady. She was grateful for that. He watched her with gentle eyes—dark, deep eyes into which she could easily and willingly lose herself.
“I had no idea.” The quiet reply smoothed a balm against her jagged nerve endings. “You and Tyler seem as tied and tight as can be.”
“Because we are.” Fierce words emphasized a fierce, loving loyalty. “He’s a gift from God, to me and to my mama. I was abused as a child, Chase. My mama was abused, too. By the man who I’ll refer to as my biological father, but never as anything more than that.”
Chase blinked, but didn’t speak. Likely, he didn’t expect such anger from a person generally full of confidence and sassy positivity.
“I was four—almost five—when we left him, but until that time, I was bullied and abused. With words. With strikes of the hand. With hostility. Worse yet, all that garbage fell on me from my father. From the man I should have been able to trust and rely on implicitly. For the longest time, I wouldn’t have anything to do with men. My father’s behavior scarred me that bad. Until Tyler.”
“Your father…your natural born father…he hit you? I can’t even begin to imagine…” The rasped tone, the expression on his face let her know Chase was appalled.
Pyper nodded. “His drunken rages left me with nowhere to hide. He’d lose a job, or he’d have a bad day or ten at the gaming tables in the casinos of downtown Detroit, everything set him off. Sometimes all I had to do is walk into the room and he’d fly into a fit. He hated me, and I figured all men were just like him. I figured all men used fists and yelled.” Her lips quaked. “I wasn’t even five. I didn’t know any better. His brand of fatherhood was all I knew. Until Tyler.”
“I didn’t mean to travel into territory that hurts you, Pyper.” Chase appeared agonized. “I’m sorry I pushed.”
“No worries. You can’t push me where I don’t want to go.”
“I believe that.” There was a smile in his tone.
Fingering a last pair of fries, then lifting them toward her mouth, she shrugged, softened. “It is what it is, right? There’s no changing the past, and my future belongs to me, not him; so in the end, I like to think I’ve won the war.”
“You sure have, and that’s a wise outlook. I know the feeling. Learned the hard way that the people and circumstances in our lives—whether good or bad—make us who we are in the here and now. Don’t hate on him too bad without considering the fact that—”
“Oh, no. Stop right there, Chase. I truly don’t want to hear it.” Pyper cut him off with a ruthless hand slice. “I never see him. I never hear from him. He took an exit from our lives and none of us has ever looked back. Speaks volumes, don’t you think? I don’t want, or need, the ghost of someone I despise, someone I don’t even care about, to slip into a happy moment like this and wreck things. I’m enjoying getting to know you. Let’s leave it at that, OK?”
“Pleasant. Uncomplicated.”
“Yeah.” In a way, Pyper knew she was running from herself, but her biological father hadn’t been part of her life for nearly two decades. Why stir tidal waves when they were unnecessary? Conclusion drawn, she figured it was time to shift matters from the past. “I’d love to hear your new songs sometime.”
He shrugged lightly, and she enjoyed his sudden display of shyness. “Yeah. Sometime.”
No, not sometime, she thought. Soon. So she moved forward, whether it was the smart thing to do or not. “We’ll need to rehearse.”
Chase faced her straight on but didn’t say much right away. He sipped his soft drink. “Nothing’s set yet. Rehearsals and such might be jumping things a little, don’t you think?”
“You don’t know Kellen Rossiter the way I do. Trust me. What he talked about today? He’ll make it happen. I want to be prepared. Besides, the momentum will be good as you set up production, right?”
He nodded.
“My, but you’re the chatty one all of a sudden.” Masking uncertainty with sass and a playful grin, she considered the sudden realization that this gig meant something to her. Chase meant something to her—neither of which made a lick of sense. “Even if the shows don’t come to be, would it be so tough to spend a few hours making music together?”
Chase reached across the worn, speckled surface of the tabletop, aiming for the spot where her hand rested. He slipped his fingertips beneath hers, held on snug. “It’d be a lot of fun, Pyper. I’d really enjoy it.”
She fought off a shiver of need that started deep in her chest and rolled outward. “You could come over sometime. We could work on the live set and you could share your new songs. You could have dinner with me and Zach and the folks. Zach is crazy about you, you know.”
Mention of Zach prompted Chase’s smile—the seductive, lazy smile that slipped into her head without any effort at all.
“He’s a good guy, and I’d love to spend time with y’all.” He paused very deliberately and looked her straight in the eyes. “Will Darren mind you hanging out with me as we put this thing together?”
Languid heat vanished. Her brows shot upward. “What a loaded question. Is that anything you really need to concern yourself with?”
“I’m just askin’.” Not a bit put off, Chase’s intensity zapped her senses. He didn’t relinquish his physical or visual hold.
“No need to ask, and there’s no need to worry.” Could she be any more defensive? Pyper wanted to duck for cover.
“Got it. The topic is closed.”
Not quite, Pyper decided. “In the meantime, what about you and Emily?”
“Emily?”
She could tell he drew a complete blank. Shocking. “Emily Nelson, the woman who headlined for you on your last tour. Surely you haven’t forgotten her…ample charms.”
Recognition struck and Chase shook his head, lips twitching. “You don’t hold much back, do you, crash?”
“Nope. Your entire tour was punctuated by pictures of the two of you at bars and clubs and concerts and premieres, with her slinky, sexy self poured all over you like honey.”
He laughed outright. “And you’re starting to sound just a little bit jealous there, Pyper.”
“Hardly.” She sniffed and tilted her head, waiting.
“Mmm-hmm.” Chase just grinned all the wider. “She once referred to life as her one-time-only-playground, and for a while, I was her toy. The pictures don’t lie. Back then, I was more than happy to bask in her glow. I liked the attention. I liked the heat level. But that was then, and this is now. Emily doesn’t have a spot in the framework of my life any longer, and she never will again.”
“Got it. The topic is closed.” Pyper parroted his words, seasoned them with a smile, but what she couldn’t quite get a handle on was the relief she felt that Chase was unattached and the assurance that swelled in his absolute rebuke of the life that was.
When Pyper came upon his continuing regard, the heated shimmer in his eyes, her pulse quickened. She had overplayed her interest in him, and she knew it. Now, all of a sudden, she reverted to self-conscious nervousness.
And what about Darren? What was she going through with Chase? Was it simple chemistry? Was it the idea of working together? Sharing a mic? Creating music?
The prospect of creating music with him was all it took to pull her right under. On cue, those tummy tingles and nerve sparks danced through her senses all over again.
“I have another idea we could work on together.” Chase spoke, interrupting that all
uring chain of thought.
“What’s that?”
“My sponsor followed me from South Carolina to Franklin about a month ago to complete my rehab. He’s been recruited to stay in Tennessee permanently and head up a new facility in downtown Nashville so he’s closing up shop in South Carolina and moving here. To assist in the launch of the facility, I intend to help him raise funds and build awareness.”
Pyper perked right up. “Really? That’s awesome. Can I help at all? What can I do?”
“The opening of Reach North is coming up next month. Maybe you and I could do some PR beforehand. There’ll be a pre-opening benefit. Maybe we could sing. Gather a few artists to join in. It’d attract attention, that’s for sure. I’m all for that, if you’re game.”
“Count me in. I’d love it.” She refused to even glance at her phone to check incoming messages or missed calls, but all the same, thoughts of Darren and Anne prompted her to bring lunch to a close. “I’d love to stay, but…”
“Oh—yeah.” Chase drew out his wallet and led the way to check out. He settled their tab, refusing Pyper’s offer to contribute. “It’s been a pleasure, Pyper. Let me know when you want to get together again, hear?”
She added his number to the contact list of her phone, and he did the same with hers.
A promise lifted from her heart to her lips. “I’ll grab some dates from Mom and Dad and let you know right away. I’m looking forward to it. Truly. I enjoyed today.”
“So did I.”
8
Courting support for the launch of a new album meant a whole lot more than just song writing, production meetings and studio time. Chase knew he had to network and earn back some much-needed positive PR. He needed to spend face time with label execs for Imperion Records. He needed to reconnect with DJ’s, station owners, and promoters.
That meant parties. Lots of glitz and maneuvering at events where frenzied fans and over-solicitous attendees bent over backwards to make certain a celebrity felt welcome, pampered, and important. The ultimate ego snare. That was the trickiest part of his return to the entertainment industry. Plus, he had to be “on.” He had to live up to a persona he wasn’t comfortable with nor fully reconciled to any longer. He wasn’t the same Chase Bradington of six months or a year ago, but that didn’t change circumstances, or the responsibilities he faced. He needed to show up. He needed to promote himself, market, and win a way back to full houses and record sales. If he didn’t, the label support that was now tentative at best would vanish altogether—and so would the music he burned to share.
Forgiveness Page 6