Caught in the Chase (Caught Series Book 3)

by Kacey Shea

  “Yeah.” I take in the interior décor and furniture. Our uncle has done well for himself. He was the black sheep of his family, the only one to detour from a life of firefighting. But he built his own empire and did better financially than any of his brothers.

  “Think fast.” Cam tosses me something.

  I catch the thick envelope with my name scrawled on it. Hmm. Inside I find a set of keys and a list of household maintenance tasks. Awesome. I guess there’s no such thing as free rent. There’s also a letter with the details for where to report on Monday. Great. I have a feeling I’m going to hate this place by the end of August.

  “Come on.” Cam swings his keys around one finger and nods to the door. “Let’s go hit the grocery store and pick up some steaks to grill.”

  “You don’t need to get back?”

  He shrugs. “I figured I could stay here tonight. If it’s okay with you.”

  “Yeah.” I try to mask my surprise. “Sure. That’d be cool.” I can’t remember the last time we shared a meal and hung out just the two of us. I realize how much I miss that. I might’ve damaged our relationship the way I have with every other person in my life, but for some reason my brother hasn’t cut me out completely. It’s a grace I don’t deserve, but greedily accept. Especially when the only company I’ll have for the next month is myself.

  I don’t particularly like that guy.

  12

  Alicia

  The next few days fly by. Thursday and Friday are filled with training and HR videos. Saturday, I learn the ins and outs of the community center, from where I can park to how to bring on new volunteers. I have my own office and a pile of administrative tasks to learn, but most of that will be hands-on over the next two months. There’s so much to do and remember, and I haven’t even met the group of teens I’ll be managing for the summer. Thankfully, it’s an established leadership program, but still. It’s more than a little overwhelming.

  Through everything, I’m extra conscientious of my alcoholism, and the way I might respond to the added stress of living in a new city, taking on a position I’ve never had before, and being far from my support system. It’s why I wake early each morning to attend AA meetings, and why I call to check in with my sponsor at the end of the weekend even though I haven’t had the urge to drink.

  “That’s good.”

  “I’m just worried. No, more like anxious. Things can’t be this easy, can they? I’ve been putting off change for years, too scared to rock the boat or create a division between myself and my family. Yet none of this feels as hard as I expected. Almost as if it’s not real. But that can’t be possible. I’m scared it’s all going to hit at once, you know?”

  “It’s okay to feel good about your choices, Alicia,” Lisa, my sponsor says. “But I think it’s smart to anticipate a low moment. It’s like being a really good gambler. You play the odds.”

  “Right.” I sigh and stare at the worn wooden boards above my bunk. “But the longer I feel good, the more bravado I feel. Like last night a bunch of my roommates went out to dinner and almost everyone my age ordered a beer. I felt so strong because I didn’t even feel tempted.”

  “Do they know you’re a recovering addict?”

  No. “I want them to see me for me. Not for my failings, you know? This is supposed to be my fresh start, and I like how they look at me.” Someone who’s interesting and fun, and sober by choice. “Besides, no one even blinked when I ordered an iced tea, and it’s none of their business anyway.”

  “But it’s significant enough, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me.”

  She’s right. “I just don’t want the pity. Or to make it a big deal. I don’t want to be known as the recovering addict.”

  “You’re so much more than that. You know that.” She pauses a moment. “But accountability is crucial. I’m not saying you have to tell them, but don’t be afraid of a few ignorant or misguided reactions. Your truth is more precious than anyone’s reaction. It’s part of who you are.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. You’re getting along with your roommates though? You feel comfortable there? I know you were worried.”

  “Well, the lack of bathrooms is still concerning, but yeah, it’s good. Mostly. There’s one other thing.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “It’s just that last night, after dinner, we walked down to the water and a few of them decided to smoke.” I pause.

  “Marijuana?”

  “Yeah, and that’s never been my thing, but I had this sudden thought. Like out of nowhere and it caught me off-guard. I could take a hit and no one would even know. It wouldn’t be a big deal. The only person here who knows I’m in recovery is the guy who runs the house, Tom, and he wasn’t with us. It’s not like anyone was going to tell, because there’s zero tolerance at the house.”

  “Alicia, did you consume drugs last night?”

  “No. And I honestly didn’t have the urge to, but the thought that I could and no one would ever know, well, it was almost exciting.” Shame creeps into my mind for acknowledging that truth aloud.

  “But you understood your limits. You knew that you couldn’t, because you’re an addict and it wouldn’t be just one hit. It’d be getting high and then a glass of merlot after work tomorrow, and then a stop at the liquor store on the way to work the next day.”

  “You get me.” I exhale the worries knotting in my belly and inhale relief. “How do you just know?”

  She laughs wryly. “Because I was you twenty years ago.”

  “Thanks for listening.”

  “Always. You’re doing awesome. You’ve worked so hard for this. You are capable. You have the tools, just remember to use them. Think about telling a few of your roommates. You could use a few allies. Call me anytime.”

  “I will.”

  “And Alicia?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t forget to enjoy life along the way.” She pauses a moment, catching my total attention. “Being aware of your triggers, being prudent, it’s all key to your success. But find your safe spaces, find your people—the ones who you don’t have to pretend to have it all together around, the ones who know you’ve stumbled and love you regardless.”

  “I’m trying.” I’ve been to three AA meetings and I plan to go again tomorrow, but this town is tiny compared to Richmond, and there aren’t many people remotely close to my age. It’s going to be a challenge. Not that I’d be opposed to having coffee with Tom or the other seniors I met in meetings, it’s just hard to socialize afterward when there’s such a gap in life experience. “Maybe you could just, like, move down here for the summer? Work remotely? Maybe bring the rest of our group.”

  She laughs heartily this time. “I mean, it’s not the worst idea in the world. Too bad I don’t have a couple grand lying around. Or access to a trust fund.”

  “God! Me, too!” I roll my eyes and laugh with the woman who has easily become one of my most trusted acquaintances.

  The door to my room swings open and Charlie winces when they notice I’m on a call. Charlie mouths, “Sorry,” and walks to the dresser.

  “I should let you go,” I say to Lisa. “Thanks again for talking.”

  “There’s no need to thank me. Good luck tomorrow. You meet your teens, right?”

  “Yes, any words of wisdom?”

  “Don’t let your guard down, and show no mercy . . . er, I mean weakness.”

  “You’ve been watching Cobra Kai again, haven’t you?”

  “Don’t judge me! I can’t help that I’m an 80’s child.”

  I laugh and hold in any further teasing as we say our good-byes. I plug in my phone, then swing my legs over the edge of my bed. I need to fill my water bottle before calling it a night.

  “Sorry,” Charlie says. “I know it’s hell getting any privacy around here.”

  It’s the truth. Mornings and evenings are the worst, the bathroom almost constantly occupied, but I’ve also been really spoile
d my entire life. It’s good to be uncomfortable sometimes. It creates growth, or at least that’s what I tell myself when I get frustrated.

  “No, you’re good.” I don’t have to explain myself to Charlie or anyone, but Lisa’s words ring in my mind. I push the truth out before I chicken out. “Hey, Charlie.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m a recovering alcoholic. I’ve been sober for almost two years. I just thought you should know.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Charlie nods, meeting my gaze with no change in expression. “Cool.” Then goes back to shuffling through the drawer of clothes.

  I slip out of the room to fill my water bottle in the kitchen. A smile teases my lips as the anxiety I felt earlier dissipates with Charlie’s casual response. Cool. Every other time I’ve come clean about my addiction, it’s been followed by a big and heavy conversation. It’s not that I expect rejection, but full acceptance seems too much to hope for. Yet that’s what I got. Maybe I need to believe a little more in the grace of others. Maybe I need to stop hating myself for my past transgressions.

  13

  Alicia

  Early Monday morning I drive over to the community center, then walk the short distance to my new favorite place—a little coffee shop that feeds my caffeine needs without breaking the bank. With its close proximity to both the community center and the church where the local AA group meets, they’re sure to take most of my summer paycheck. I’m perfectly okay with that. Life might not be perfect, but coffee makes everything better.

  The past few days have been a whirlwind of meetings, training, and barely managing sleep. I wouldn’t say I’m settled, there’s too much new for that. But everyone is friendly and welcoming enough, including the AA group I started attending at Tom’s invitation. It’s where I’m headed this morning before my first official day “on the job.”

  Today I meet the teenagers, a group of at-risk youth who either applied or were nominated for the leaders-in-training summer program. I’ll be responsible for coordinating their activities and assigning volunteer work. It’s the most important role I’ve ever had and quite honestly, I’m scared shitless. I’m terrified they’ll see my weaknesses and know I’m a fraud. Sure, I’ve applied to grad schools to study social work, but the only practical experience I have with teens comes from when I was one myself. My first goal this week is to earn their respect. That and get them to like me.

  My phone buzzes from inside my pocket while I wait in the crowded coffee shop. I grin when I pull it out and read the waiting messages.

  Jill: Good luck today!

  Callie: You’ve got this!

  Me: I don’t want them to hate me.

  Callie: They won’t. You’re the coolest.

  Jill: Adolescents are brutal. I’ll pray for you.

  A laugh bursts from my lips, momentarily settling the tension in my body.

  Me: I have a plan to win them over.

  Callie: Kill ‘em with kindness?

  Me: Two dozen donuts.

  Jill: You’re a fucking genius.

  Callie: THIS is why they pay you the big bucks.

  “Venti chai latte, extra cream for Raquel?”

  I glance up from my phone, my back against the wall, and watch as another customer steps up to retrieve her drink order. I tap my heel to an anxious beat. It doesn’t matter how many meetings I attend, I always experience a bout of nerves beforehand. Which is partly why I woke up thirty minutes earlier than necessary, just to stop for coffee. Not the smartest habit—inhaling straight caffeine then sitting my ass on a metal chair for the next hour—but it’s one I don’t intend to break. Of all my addictions, coffee’s the least destructive.

  The bell on the door chimes with the arrival of someone new and I glance over at the sound. I expect another faceless stranger. Maybe one of the locals. But the person walking in doesn’t fall into either of those categories. My heart practically stops. For certain it stutters. I close my eyes, shake my head, then open my lids again to be sure I’m not hallucinating.

  Him. Chase Matthews. Here.

  Why the hell is he here?

  I consider abandoning my coffee order to slink away from the shop unnoticed. Only before my feeble escape plan is executed, the man I’m dying to avoid notices me.

  His eyes brighten, his posture straightens, and slowly his lips lift into an all-knowing smirk. I hate him. Yet I don’t. There’s something about Chase Matthews that will always drive me mad. Even if he looks like a snack I’d like to eat while he does it.

  “Well, well, well. Fancy meeting you here.”

  “What are you doing?” He’s supposed to be in Richmond. Everyone I know is supposed to be there. That’s why I left.

  “Grabbing a cup of joe, you?”

  “What are you doing in the Outer Banks?” I rephrase and try not to roll my eyes with the obvious intent of my prior inquiry.

  “I could ask you the same question, princess.”

  “Iced macchiato, extra cream for Alicia!”

  “Extra cream.” His smile widens and his gaze travels down my body in an insolent perusal. His smirk is absolutely predatory, and my first impulse is to volunteer for a naughty game of cat and mouse. “Nice.”

  Ugh. He’s such a pig. My second impulse overpowers my momentary lapse in judgment. I’d reach out and slap the smile off his smug face if I thought it’d shut him up for good. “So, this has been real.” I pinch my mouth into somewhat of a smile and let my words die off as I reach for my coffee. I hate that his words have any effect on me. “Bye, Chase.”

  I don’t look at him. I don’t stop to say thank you to the baristas. I don’t even hold the door for the incoming customers. My heels might as well be on fire for how fast I push my way out of the shop and head down the street.

  He’s here. He’s in Kitty Hawk. But why? Breathe, Alicia. Breathe. I slow my steps while my mind races to come up with a plausible reason. He’s probably here on vacation, like ninety percent of the summer visitors. He’s not following me. He doesn’t care. He never did.

  “Alicia! Alicia, hold up!”

  Shit. I consider slamming my drink into the next wastebasket and making a run for it, but glance down at my cute designer sandals. No. Better to get this over with and find out what he’s doing here so I won’t obsess over it all day.

  I turn, hand on hip, and expression sour. “What?” I say with more bite than necessary.

  He jogs over, no coffee in hand, and holds up his hands as if I’m the one pointing a gun. “Whoa! Chill. I just wanna talk.”

  “Talk?” A humorless laugh escapes my lips and I bug my eyes. Is he really this clueless? “I don’t like you, Chase. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything.” I motion my finger between us. “I don’t want to talk to you. Ever.”

  His bravado falters, and for once I feel as though my words were too harsh. Shit.

  “Right. Uh, I’m sorry I interrupted your morning,” he stammers, swallowing hard enough that his throat constricts several times. “I understand. My own family doesn’t want to speak to me, either. I get it.” He dips his chin, hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, and walks away.

  Crap. He thinks I’m telling him off because of the accident last month? Shit. The Chase-sized cement boulder erected around my heart cracks a little under the pressure.

  “Hey, wait. Chase.” I call out, but don’t move toward him.

  He turns. “It’s okay, Alicia. It’s fine.”

  But it isn’t. I take in his appearance, this time in earnest, noticing the deep circles of his eyes, the hair a little too long, the scruff of his unshaven jaw. He looks tired. Exhausted even. Hurt.

  I shouldn’t care. He’s not my problem. But my feet push me forward anyway. “Are you here for the week?”

  He blinks before answering. Almost as if he didn’t expect the question. “Uh, yeah.” He rocks back on the heels of his soles, face studying the ground.

  “How are you?”

  He laughs, the sound hollow as he lifts his g
aze. “You don’t have to pretend to like me or be nice. I don’t need your pity.”

  “It’s easier to be rude when you act like yourself.” I take a sip of my coffee. “You know, when you’re an asshole?”

  He grins, as if my words lighten the weight on his shoulders. “So why are you here? Vacationing in one of daddy’s estates?”

  He doesn’t know. I don’t know whether I should be relieved or sad. Though I don’t know why I care. Why would he keep tabs on me after all this time? I heave out a sigh, mustering up a glare. “I’m here all summer. Working.”

  “Oh?” Chase’s brows rise and he laughs for real this time. “Did you finally get cut off? I never thought it’d happen!” And just like that he’s back to full asshole. Maybe I should have let him suffer.

  “No, dickweed. I am working because I want to do something meaningful and productive with my life. Maybe you should try it.”

  All traces of humor disappear. He looks as if he might throw up. He goes white as a ghost.

  Shit. I need to think before I speak. My mouth and quick temper have always gotten me in trouble. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Save it.” He cuts me off, his gaze stuck to the ground. “It’s what everyone thinks anyway. You’re the only one with the balls to say it.”

  “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t have balls.”

  “I remember.” Even as miserable as he looks, when he lifts his gaze to meet mine his eyes darken with the hint of arousal.

  I remember, too. But I don’t want to take a walk down memory lane. It’s one dangerous, slippery slope. One in which I might remember a time when I actually wanted Chase. The same period in which I didn’t really love myself. “Okay, well, I need to be going.” I raise my hand in a wave.

  “Where you headed? I’ll walk with you.” He doesn’t wait for me to answer, but catches up to my side.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.” I brush my hair back and keep my gaze forward. I don’t want to see the look of hurt on his face. I’m not sure what it’ll do to my heart. Instead, I focus on keeping my strides long and purposeful. He’ll eventually take the hint and go back to the coffee shop. Right?