She grabbed my hand and leaned in too and she did this in order to throw me right under the bus.
“Please, Faye, talk to Chace. Just a drink. The whole family,” she pleaded.
She wanted that, badly, and I knew Chace was not going to give it to her.
I was saved from having to reply when Chace moved me firmly away from her and stated, “We gotta go.”
He then instantly guided us toward the front of the foyer, stopping at a door and opening it.
“Just a drink. Fifteen minutes,” Valerie urged, her tone edging toward desperate.
Chace came out with my coat but his eyes sliced to his father. I fancied I knew him well, but you didn’t have to know him well to know he was telling his father to shut this down. Now.
Trane read this and moved to his wife, murmuring, “It’s late, love. They should be making their way.”
Her voice was rising to the point there was a hint of hysteria in it when she returned, “Fifteen minutes! That’s all I ask. Fifteen minutes with my family all together.”
“Fuck,” Chace clipped under his breath.
He’d helped me on with my coat so I was unfortunately free again to forge into the breach.
“It really is late and it’s also a long drive. I’ve had to work today, your food was delicious but with that, work, wonderful wine but lots of it and good company, I’m afraid I’m dead on my feet. I’ll probably fall asleep in the car.” I smiled at her. “Not to mention, it’s past Chace’s bedtime. So, to be safe, we should be getting home. It really was so lovely meeting you and,” I turned my eyes to Trane, “having the chance to meet you too.” I looked back at Valerie. “And I hope you take Chace up on coming to spend the weekend. I can show you my library and make you dinner.”
Her face moved like she was fighting tears, Trane shifted into her and slid his arm along her waist, this seeming to give her the strength to fight the tears back and nod.
“Of course, you’re right, Faye. It is late and you and Chace should be on your way,” she whispered with clear disappointment.
I approached her and took her hand. “I hope to see you again soon.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her hand limp in mine but I still gave it a squeeze.
“Faye,” Chace called shortly, I looked over my shoulder at him and nodded.
I looked back at Valerie, letting my eyes move through Trane and I said, “Thank you for a lovely evening.”
“My pleasure,” she muttered, her eyes beyond me on Chace, her melancholy obvious, extreme and alarming.
Chace ignored this, claimed me by grabbing my hand and his only farewell was, “Ma. I’ll call.”
He didn’t say one word or even look at his father.
Then we were out the door, down the steps and hoofing it to the Yukon. Chace bleeped the locks, walked me to my door, yanked it open and practically picked me up to plant me in the passenger seat.
I barely cleared my feet from the door when it was slammed and Chace was prowling around the hood.
I looked to the front door, saw Valerie and Trane there, his arm around her shoulders, her look despondent, his blank. I lifted my hand and gave them a happy wave that I hoped didn’t look stupid or, worse, forced.
Chace angled in, started up the Yukon and executed a tight turn in the large space of the front drive and we were on our way.
He, incidentally, didn’t wave. He didn’t even glance at his parents.
I gave it time and when we were close to hitting Aspen proper, I whispered, “Chace –”
“I hate him, you know that,” he cut me off to say curtly. “I love her, you know that too. You wanna sleep on the way home, sleep. But I do not wanna talk so if you’re not sleepin’, do me a favor and give me quiet.”
I bit my lip.
Then I gave him quiet.
And I endured his heavy mood all the way home without sleep not having any idea the worst was yet to come.
Chapter Seventeen
Always
It was very late when we hit my apartment, after one in the morning.
The drive had been silent, Chace’s mood not lifting, not in the slightest.
The very much shorter walk up my stairs to my apartment had been silent too.
I was wandering the space, turning on lights, trying to decide what to do, what to say and wishing I could go to the bathroom and call Laurie, Lexie, Krys or Twyla to ask when Chace spoke.
“Headin’ home.”
I was standing on my side of the bed, turning on the light but at his words, like a shot, my back went straight and my eyes cut to him standing in his coat by the door.
Since the night he took my virginity, we never slept apart. Not once. We never even went to bed without the other.
Not once.
I didn’t have a good feeling about this.
“What?” I whispered.
He didn’t repeat himself.
Instead, he said, “You go on to your folks tomorrow without me. I’ll call you Monday. Maybe Tuesday.”
Monday?
Maybe Tuesday?
A chill slid over my skin even though I still had my coat on but I didn’t move a muscle and stared at him.
He finished, “Later, Faye.”
Later, Faye?
No kiss. No touch. No darlin’, honey or baby.
Just later, Faye.
He was at the door when I called on a stammer, “I… you… Chace, what’s going on?”
He turned at the door and leveled his eyes on me. “Need space, you do too. This is happening fast. Too fast for me, where I am. Too fast for you, this bein’ your first relationship. Just slowin’ us down, givin’ us time, takin’ that time to sort my head.”
Sort his head?
What was there to sort?
My heart started pumping so hard, I could actually feel it.
“I… I don’t… it doesn’t feel fast,” I told him cautiously.
“Well, it is,” he told me firmly then he was done and I knew it when he started to turn back to the door, muttering, “Call you Tuesday.”
He didn’t move in slow motion but it felt like he did as thoughts collided in my brain.
Lots of them.
Too many.
Weeks of them.
And they did this so fast it felt like my head was going to explode.
Then I felt my shoulders square with a snap and I stated, “You’ll call me Tuesday.”
He looked back at me and, sounding impatient, he confirmed, “Yeah. That’s what I said. I’ll call you Tuesday.”
“I’ve seen you every day, slept beside you every night for weeks and all of a sudden I not only won’t see you but I won’t hear from you for two days.”
“Right,” he replied.
“You told me I wouldn’t sleep without you,” I reminded him and finished, “Ever. Now you’re saying I won’t sleep with you for two days?”
A muscle worked in his jaw but he didn’t speak.
My heart started racing.
I changed tactics.
“What if I don’t want to wait until Tuesday?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Faye, it’s late. I’m wiped. We’ll talk Tuesday.”
“Would it matter to you that I’d rather you didn’t leave right now but we either talk about whatever’s obviously seriously bothering you or you allow me to see to you in other ways?”
“No, it wouldn’t because I’m tired. I been thinkin’ on the way home and I’m tellin’ you the way you can see to me is to give me space. So, you’ll give me space and we’ll talk Tuesday.”
I’d give him space. He decided and that was it.
It hit me just then that Chace decided a lot and that was it.
And it also hit me that whenever my girlfriends told me their boyfriends needed space, they didn’t need space, as such, they needed something else entirely.
So I made a decision, my first in our relationship.
“No we won’t,” I announced and his brows drew together.
&nbs
p; Then he took in a calming breath, clearly tamping down his irritation that he was dealing with his inexperienced girlfriend and he explained, “When I say I need space, Faye, when anyone wants space, it’s important to give it to them.”
Oh no.
Frak no.
He might be my first pretty much everything but I wasn’t seventeen and exploring the ways of the world. I was twenty-fraking-nine, not stupid, I had my own opinions, my own desires, my own needs and they were just as valid as his.
Last, I was suddenly so over this I could scream.
I didn’t scream.
I invited, shrugging off my coat, “Great, take a lot of it.”
He turned fully away from the door and asked, “What?”
“Take a lot of it,” I repeated, moving and tossing my coat on a stool as I made my way to the kitchen. “You want it. You have it. But don’t bother calling me on Tuesday.”
His barely there patience slipped when he declared, “Jesus, Faye, it’s fuckin’ late, I’m fuckin’ tired. I’m tellin’ you what I need so you can read into that what I don’t need is a fuckin’ drama.”
“No drama,” I pulled open a cupboard to nab a wineglass. I closed the cupboard, turned to him but didn’t look at him as I reached for the bottle of wine on my counter, finishing, “Just giving you space. Plenty of it.”
“Fine,” he stated as I squeezed the plastic thingie Chace had shoved into the bottle last night and pumped the air out of so the wine would keep, heartbreakingly sad I was doing that because Chace had done it like he always did it and my earlier decision meant Chace would never do it again.
“But don’t call Wednesday,” I told the wine.
“Jesus.” I heard him clip.
“Or Thursday.” I kept at it as I poured my wine.
“Fuckin’ hell, Faye.”
“Or Friday,” I went on as I turned the bottle in my hand to stop the flow without it dripping.
“Faye, this isn’t a big deal.”
Not to him.
But it was to me.
Though he obviously didn’t care.
I set the bottle on the counter, lifted my eyes to him and concluded, “Or at all.”
His body went visibly solid and his mood again blanketed the room as his eyes locked on mine.
I kept talking.
“You’re right, you didn’t say it but I get it. I’m inexperienced. I need guidance in this relationship business. I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.” I took a sip of wine, held his gaze as I did, lowered my glass and swallowed. “But you don’t have to know about relationships to know that no matter how wonderful a man may seem, how he makes you feel, it is not okay for him to keep things from you. It is not okay that, even though he’s going through serious stuff in his head, he lashes out and rips you to shreds. It is not okay that, although he’s more experienced than you, he doesn’t guide the relationship but controls it with an iron fist. So you want time and I have no say in the matter? Take it. A lot of it.”
His expression shifted and at the shift, I braced.
“You’re makin’ a bigger deal of this than it is, honey,” he said softly but didn’t move toward me. “After what happened tonight, I just need some time to get my head together.”
“What happened tonight?” I asked.
Chace didn’t answer.
When it was important, Chace never really answered.
“Right,” I muttered, my heart squeezing and it didn’t feel good at all. I took a sip of wine and didn’t get what women were always talking about in regards to drinking wine during heartbreak. It didn’t make me feel even a little bit better.
Maybe I needed more of it.
Like, a case.
Chace didn’t move.
“You aren’t leaving,” I prompted, pleased with myself that my voice didn’t crack because tears were rushing up my throat.
“I’ll call you Tuesday,” he whispered.
I lifted my wineglass his way and invited, “You do that.”
He didn’t move.
I took another sip of wine.
When I lowered my glass, reading me yet again, he noted, “You’re not gonna answer.”
“Nope,” I replied, sounding shockingly cavalier considering my insides were bleeding.
“Faye –” he started, taking a step toward me.
I shook my head and lifted a hand his way. “Unh-unh, no. Door’s the other way, Chace.”
He rocked to a halt, his chin jerked down and to the side in a motion that made it look like he’d been struck then he righted his head and reminded me, “You told me you’d never show me the door.”
“I changed my mind,” I fired back.
He studied me a moment while I hoped to all frak I gave nothing away then remarked, “You know my family’s fucked up.”
“No. I know your mother is mentally ill and I know this is not in her control, it isn’t her choice. It’s an illness like any other illness and it’s nothing to get tense or be embarrassed about. If she had diabetes, cancer, it wouldn’t reflect on her in any way. But because she is how she is, you are how you are, thinking I’ll judge her or maybe both of you because of something out of either of your control. That’s not nice and I don’t like it.”
“Faye –”
I interrupted him. “And I don’t know about your father. You’ve told me some but not all, definitely not what would drive you to behave the way you did tonight. For your mother’s sake, it seems a not difficult thing to do, putting up with him for fifteen minutes to shield her from that emotion. He seemed capable of doing that for her. But obviously, whatever it is runs deeper. And obviously, you don’t intend to share it with me.”
“It is deeper,” he shared, just not much because he didn’t go on.
“No kidding?” I asked, hiding my despair behind sarcasm.
“Give me time,” he urged quietly.
“How much do you need, Chace? A year? Ten? Twenty?” I shot back, now hiding behind anger.
“It isn’t pleasant,” he whispered.
“So is a lot of stuff in life,” I replied. “Clue in, I am not your mother. Yes, I read. And yes, I do it a lot. And yes, I did it before you because life can suck and living in a fantasy world is a lot more fun than living in the real world sometimes. This was not a weak choice, it was an informed one. The cops in my town were dirty, my father was getting pulled over all the time because he didn’t like it and didn’t mind saying it but didn’t have the power to stop it. Innocent men like Ty Walker were being extradited states away to stand trial for murders they didn’t commit. Women who weren’t all that nice but still, that doesn’t matter, were being murdered. My friends got cheated on by their boyfriends or dumped after they slept with them or lied to or broken up with for what seemed no reason at all. You know I can go on. There’s not one thing wrong with saying, ‘To hell with that garbage,’ and immersing myself in worlds where happy ever afters are guaranteed or things are so fantastical, you know they’re not real, even the bad stuff. But that doesn’t mean I’m weak or fragile. It doesn’t mean I’m incapable of living my life. Everyone finds things they enjoy so they can escape. I’m not a freak. Even you do it with your sports. Part of me likes that you want to protect me from unpleasantness but part of me feels like it’s a slap in the face that you think I can’t cope when I can.”
He took another step toward me saying, “It’s worse than you could expect.”
“Okay,” I returned instantly. “Maybe it is. But you not sharing tells me you don’t trust me to be able to handle it. Which means you don’t trust me to hold up my side of the relationship. Which means we don’t actually have a relationship. I don’t have to have had one to know that both people in a relationship have responsibilities for keeping it strong and making it thrive and part of that is taking each other’s backs. You have mine but refuse to allow me to take yours. I’ve been cool. I’ve been patient. I’ve given you time. You want more, take it but don’t drag me with you as you
struggle with this crap, Chace. Because the longer we’re together the more you should get to know me, come to the understanding I can handle it and trust me. You aren’t even close to that. That tells me you won’t be. So you want to keep your dark secrets, let them eat at you, fine. But don’t make me watch it happen.”
“So what you’re sayin’ is, hours ago, you told me you love me and now, I want a couple of days to get my head straight, you’re breakin’ up with me,” he said low, a warning. A warning I no longer gave a frak about.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Just like that?” he asked.
“No, it’s never happened to me before but I doubt after I fell head over heels in love with a wonderful man who kept important things from me, I’ll get over it just like that. I’ll drink with my girls and cry and wonder if I made the right decision. Then another man will come along, he won’t be as wonderful as my first love, but I suppose I’ll eventually get over it and move on.”
This was the way, way, way wrong thing to say and I knew it when the air went from smothering to stifling and Chace moved.
I tried to keep my cool as I watched him shrug off his coat and throw it over the footboard of my bed and I did this by sharing, “It’s cold, Chace, and the door’s the other way.”
His eyes sliced to me and he clipped, “Stop that shit.”
“What shit?” I asked
“The cold, remote Faye. It’s shit,” he answered.
“You’re right. It is. It’s a façade to hide the fact my heart is breaking. But, whatever. That isn’t your problem anymore. Now, can I point out, you told me you need space but you’re still fraking here?”
“Another man is not gonna come along,” he informed me and I stared.
Then I asked, “What?”
“You are not movin’ onto another guy,” he crossed his arms on his chest and finished, “Ever.”
“That choice is not yours.”
“Yeah it is,” he returned swiftly. “You can’t give away what’s mine.”
“You aren’t getting this, Chace, but just now, I took it back.”
“Can’t take back what’s mine either.
God! He wanted to go, why wouldn’t he just go?
I had to shut this down.
Breathe Page 42