24. Chase
TWENTY-FOUR
CHASE
“What’s wrong?” Marissa asks, frowning through the screen of my phone.
“Nothing’s wrong. Just tired, it was a long day.”
“How was that new project?”
Shit. Why’d I have to answer when she FaceTimed? Honestly, I had been looking forward to talking with her, but after Goldi’s presence slapped me in the face and turned my world upside down, the last thing I want to do is talk with Marissa about how my day went.
I lie on my bed and spew out random words, hoping they sound convincing. “It was good. I think it will be pretty easy. The owner’s already got all the classes shut down. It’s just an empty building, waiting for the reno.”
“That’s nice. Do they have a designer you’re working with? Or should I offer my services?” She giggles.
I know she’s joking, but the thought of her being in the same place as Goldi has me feeling sick.
“So listen,” she continues, “I got an invitation in the mail today for Sam’s retirement party. Were you ever gonna tell me about it?”
“What do you mean, tell you about it? I’ve only been back home for three days, Marissa. The party isn’t until next month.”
“I know. But… Well, do you want me to come?”
Not really. Not now. “If you want to.” I sigh. “Listen, can we talk about this later? I’m beat.”
“Okay. I’ll start planning for that weekend so I can come down and stay. It will be fun! I’m excited to see where you grew up.”
Nausea fights through the tightness in my throat.
I should feel good about my girlfriend coming to visit, and it makes me feel like an asshole knowing I’m dreading it instead. I’ve been trying to convince myself it’s time to really make a go of things with Marissa for a while now.
She’s been wanting more, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t try to find happiness.
It will be a good thing, having her here.
Allow me to make new memories so I can focus on the future. Not fixate on feelings from the past.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, trying my best to not be a complete douchebag to my girlfriend. “Can’t wait to see you.”
She hums and says her goodbyes and then I’m tossing my phone to the side and staring up at the popcorn ceiling of my childhood bedroom.
Anna only told me about Sam’s retirement party yesterday, and I had no idea she sent out invitations already.
Idly, I wonder if Goldi will be there, and the thought has my heart clenching tight, a pain searing down my middle and making my stomach drop like a lead weight.
If I ever had any doubt about the strength of our connection, it was put to bed after seeing her again. One look was all it took for my soul to light on fucking fire and my skin to prickle with the need to feel her against me.
I walk over to the en suite, ridding myself of my clothes, and starting the shower, sighing when the hot water runs in rivulets down my chest, and loosens the knots I feel in my back. When I’m soaping up my body, I try to wash away the desperation that clings to my skin from being around her, but all it does is make me think of her even more.
Fuck.
I picture how she looked today. Cheeks flushed, eyes wide, her tight as fuck clothes showcasing how well she’s grown into her curves. Blood rushes straight to my cock, making it throb painfully. I groan, trying to ignore it.
I will not jerk myself off to thoughts of her.
My hand is already moving south as I think the words, wrapping around my shaft, sliding up and down once…twice…a third time. Slowly stroking. Teasing myself, as I close my eyes and let Goldi overtake my mind completely.
Fuck, that feels good.
I thrust into my fist, picturing myself ripping the buttons off that cream blouse she was wearing and having my hands on her, feeling the weight of her breasts. Having my tongue on her perfect little pussy. Her vanilla scent enveloping me as I feast on her, making her whimper and moan as I draw out her orgasm but tongue fucking her until she screams. That’s all it takes for me to explode. Euphoria spreads through my body as cum shoots out of my tip, my head thrown back from the force, tingles shooting up and down my spine, my knees growing weak.
I lean my head against the wall, the cool tile calming my racing heart, panting from the exertion. Holy fuck. I haven’t come that hard in years.
As the haze lifts, guilt weaves its way through my body. She would fucking hate me—more than she already does—if she knew I was getting off to her in the shower like that.
But that doesn’t stop me from doing it all over again in the morning, because if I don’t release the tension, I don’t know how I’ll make it through another day with her.
I stop at the coffee shop on my way into work and am standing in line when a voice interrupts my thoughts.
“I know my eyes are deceivin’ me, ’cause there is no way on God’s green Earth that Chase Adams is standin’ here in Sugarlake.”
Fucking perfect. I spin around, irritation lighting up my insides. “Hey, Becca. Long time.”
“Not long enough,” she responds, a smile as sweet as candy painting her face.
“Goldi didn’t tell you I was back?” I smirk.
Becca’s eyes widen before she schools her features.
“What Lee and I talk about is none of your concern. Actually, nothin’ to do with Lee is your concern.” She eyes me critically. “Are you back for good?”
I nod, moving up in the line. “Afraid so. Sorry to disappoint.”
Her gaze ices over. “You think this is a joke ?” Her finger pokes at my solar plexus, digging in just enough to hurt. “You better stay the hell away from Lee, Chase. I’m not fuckin’ around. You have no business after what you did, and I swear to God I will kick your ass if you get near her.”
“What can I get for you?” The barista interrupts, so I turn and order, moving to the side once I’ve paid.
The urge to walk away entirely and avoid Becca is strong, but I don’t.
She orders and then walks over to where I am.
“Listen,” I say immediately. “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I was a kid when I was with Goldi, and yeah, I screwed up. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t. I would apologize, but the only person who deserves the words is her, and she isn’t exactly open to hearing them. But I’m here, and I’m not leaving because my family needs me, and I’m tired of worrying about what everyone around here thinks. I don’t want to cause any problems, I’m not here to cause any problems.”
Becca squints, her head angling as she taps her high-heeled foot. “You’re different.”
My mouth quirks. “Yeah, well, growing up can do that to a person.”
“Whatever,” she scoffs. “Just stay away from her, Chase. Live your life and let her live hers. She’s moved on and she doesn’t need you messin’ with her head.”
The barista calls my name, handing over my coffee, but I’ve lost the taste for it after hearing that Goldi’s moved on.
Ridiculous of me, but I can’t help the way I feel. The way I think I’ll always feel.
I think about Becca’s words all the way to Tiny Dancers.
Cory, the head of my demolition crew, is waiting for me in the parking lot when I arrive. Today we’re doing a standard walk-through of the property, laying out what needs to be done, and checking for hazardous conditions. If all goes smoothly, we’ll start the demolition of the main area in the next couple of weeks.
“Chase, good to see you, man,” Cory says when I walk up. “Is it just us today?”
“Yep. You and me, buddy.”
I look around the lot, checking for Goldi’s car, and find it almost immediately. My stomach sprouts wings of anxiety and I tap my foot to shake out the excess nerves. She’s still driving that same shitty Kia she had eight years ago, and I wonder if she’s holding on to it for sentimental value, or if she hasn’t had the money to get a new one. I’m surprised as hell the thing even runs, but I guess if she’s still friends with Jax, that probably explains it.
Becca’s parting words filter through my mind.
Is she with Jax now?
My stomach curdles at the thought, and envy I have no right to feel spreads through my veins.
Cory pats me on the shoulder before heading inside, and I follow, stealing another glance at her car and trying to prepare myself for another day in her presence.
I don’t see her at all while we conduct the walk-through, and I’m grateful for it, although even the thought of her has me on edge, side-eyeing the corners and empty rooms like she’ll pop out and smack me across the face.
It’s not until a few hours later that I finally have to suck it up and find her. She needs to know about the progress we’ve made, and some of the issues we’ve found so she can relay it to her boss.
I knock on the office door.
“Come in.”
Her voice makes my stomach flip.
Get a fucking grip.
She’s sitting behind the desk, her hands on the computer keyboard, looking beautiful as ever, but there’s a heaviness to her shoulders that didn’t used to be there, almost like the weight of the world finally broke through her sunshine wall and has started to press down, bit by bit.
“Hey, G—Alina.” I grimace as I correct myself. It’s hard not to slip up and call her Goldi. It’s all I’ve ever known her as, and the name Alina feels like sandpaper on my tongue.
She continues typing on the computer, her jaw tightening.
I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the way she’s ignoring me. “So, we just finished the walk-through for the areas being renovated.”
Still no response.
“Unfortunately, there are some issues.”
Her fingers pause on the keys, the desk chair creaking as she leans back. “What do you mean, issues?”
“Well, there are some areas, especially in the front room, that are concerning. Possibly asbestos. My demo leader, Cory, is taking samples now to be sent to the lab for analysis.”
She frowns. “How long will that take?”
“About a week. We’ll have the results rushed, but there isn’t much we can do in the meantime.”
“What do you mean there’s not much you can do? Can’t you just work around the areas?”
I chuckle but stop when she glares at me. “No. Asbestos is harmless unless it becomes airborne. If there’s a problem here and it gets disturbed, that’s when it’ll become an issue.”
“I thought asbestos was regulated.”
“Not when this was built, it wasn’t. I was hopeful coming in this morning, but I knew it was a risk. We won’t be able to start work until we get the results back from the lab.”
She groans. “Have you told Regina this?”
“Nope. You’re my point of contact, not her.”
“So you expect me to deliver the bad news?” She covers her face with her hands. “You’re just itchin’ to get me fired, aren’t you?”
“I don’t mind calling her if you’re that worried about it.” I shrug.
Goldi peeks at me from between her fingers. “You don’t?”
I shake my head. “Not if it makes your day easier.”
She leans forward, her elbows coming down on the desk. “Okay, yeah. Okay. Well…wait a minute. If you call, she’ll probably think I put you up to it. That I’m incapable of deliverin’ a message. Maybe I should just call her?” She nods. “Yeah, I’ll just call her and hope for the best.”
I stifle my smile, my heart squeezing at how cute she is when she’s nervous.
She continues to ramble as she reaches to grab the phone.
My hand shoots out to cover hers before I can stop it, and when we touch, electricity pulses through my fingers and up my arm, sparking to life like a long-lost reflex jumping into action.
She gasps and blinks up at me.
My heart spasms, slamming against my ribcage, and her tongue peeks out, swiping along her bottom lip before she bites down on the corner.
I track the movement, envious as fuck that her tongue gets to taste those perfect lips.
“Don’t,” I manage to rasp. “Let me do this. I’ll tell her I wanted to be the one to deliver the news.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
My fingers tighten around hers and she breaks our gaze to stare at where we’re connected.
Suddenly, her hand jerks out from under mine. “Is that all?”
I’m still rooted in place, my mind working to catch up. “What?”
“Is that all you have to tell me? If so, you can show yourself out.” She angles her head toward the door, avoiding my eyes.
I step back, rubbing my chin and exhaling as I try to regain my equilibrium. “Yeah, that’s it. We’ll be here for a while longer finishing the samples and then we’ll be out of your hair.”
She nods, effectively dismissing me.
I walk back to where Cory is and try to calm the uneven beats of my heart.
Journal Entry #316
I had a dream last night that Lily came home. I woke up with tears on my face and a hollowness in my chest when I realized that’s all it was…a fucking dream. It’s been almost a decade since I’ve seen her. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s still alive. But I believe she is. I don’t have faith in much, but I have to trust in that.
Here’s one for ya, Doc. You know what I’ve been feeling recently when it comes to Lily? Anger. Fucking anger. And I don’t even know if it’s justified but it’s there either way.
My whole life was spent protecting her. I found comfort in knowing she appreciated all I did for her. But maybe she never really knew. Or maybe selfishness is a family trait and she never really cared.
The first foster home wasn’t sunshine and roses. It’s where I learned a lot of people are in it for the money, not for their love of children. I was still naive, believing Mom would come back and “save” us from the state she dumped us in. Lily was just scared. Too young to understand what was really going on. She always had this one raggedy stuffed bunny rabbit she held on to. Never let it out of her sight since she was old enough to grab things. It had threads all over it from where I clumsily stitched it up every time it ripped, and it was in desperate need of a wash. But it comforted her, and for that I was grateful.
Our caseworker took us to our first home, said there would be other kids to play with. It was a normal-looking house in a normal-looking suburb outside of Nashville, a married couple with two other foster kids and a thirteen-year-old son of their own. They were nice enough, if a little distant. Left us to our own devices most of the time.
But their son was a fucking prick. He loved to prey on the vulnerable, and he saw it in Lily from the jump. Linda said we needed to be on our best behavior, and I thought she meant if we were, maybe Mom would come back sooner, so I really tried to ignore this kid. But one afternoon I heard Lily cry and went outside to see he had ripped her bunny out of her hands and shredded it in front of her. My fist was in his face before he knew what hit him. Punk ass bitch.
I guess his dad didn’t think much of an eight-year-old who could beat his teenage son’s ass and decided to teach me a lesson. Busted me up so good I still have the scar through my eyebrow. I remember the pounding ache that throbbed while I took the remaining pieces of that bunny and re-stitched it together for Lily that night.
We were with that family for a little over a year, and he taught me a lot of “lessons” during that time. But the only thing I learned was bullies hit harder when you cry. They get off on the pain. So I taught myself how to lock it up tight and took the beatings with a smile on my face, knowing that as long as his attention was on me, it wasn’t on Lily.
On the plus side, he never bothered her again.