27. Alina
TWENTY-SEVEN
ALINA
My palms won’t stop sweating.
I don’t know why I’m here, standing in the middle of Chase’s living room, but when I was driving Daddy home, the night kept playing on a loop in my mind.
Getting the call from Johnny.
The way my chest caved in when I saw Chase.
Me, selfishly letting my emotions get in the way of him helping.
So, here I am, attempting to swallow down my pride long enough to apologize.
“I was unfair to you earlier tonight,” I force out.
Chase’s brows lift, but that’s the only response I get. I grind my teeth as my anxiety rises, the shame over what he saw threatening to drown me. “I should have told you I’m grateful for your help. With Daddy, that is.”
He’s silent, still just staring at me from across the room.
“Say somethin’.” I smack my thighs.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know, call me a bitch or…or tell me it’s okay. That you forgive me.”
He sighs, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Out of the two of us, Alina, you’re not the one who needs absolution.”
His words surprise me. They roll around in my head, and I’d like to pretend I feel nothing, but the twinge in my chest lets me know that’s not quite true. Regardless, I’m not here to talk about our past. “I don’t wanna talk about any of that. I just—I got Daddy home and then I realized I never even thanked you. So, thank you, I guess. You didn’t have to do what you did.”
I shuffle my feet, my hands going to my back pockets.
His eyes are searing, leaving me raw and exposed. It’s uncomfortable, and I wish he’d quit staring at me like that.
Finally, after a few torturous moments, he breaks his gaze, grabbing his keys off the rack on the wall. “Will you come with me somewhere?”
“What?” I breathe. I came over here to apologize, not to torment myself by spending hours in his presence. I don’t know if I can be around him and pretend the scars I wear weren’t made by him.
“Just…come with me somewhere. Please.”
I should leave. I should turn around and march back out that door, but instead, I stand here like an idiot.
Say no. “Okay.”
A grin overtakes his face and those dang dimples knock the breath from my lungs.
I follow him outside and down the driveway into his shiny, blacked-out Ford F-250, and the entire drive is uncomfortable and silent. At least for me, it is. He seems calm, like this whole situation isn’t wild to be experiencing after all these years. I side-eye him every few seconds, my legs tense and my body angled toward the passenger side window, trying to keep as much space as possible between us. The air likes to spark with tension whenever we’re near each other, and it’s the last thing I want to feel.
We turn into familiar territory and I realize he’s taken us to the lake. He bypasses the lot, driving us right onto the sand, backing up so the bed of his truck faces the water. Lightning bugs flash in the grassy areas, and the moon shines high, reflecting off the water.
I’ve never been to the lake in the middle of the night. Why did he bring me here?
He turns off the engine and hops out. I suppose I should follow him, but I’m twisted around in my seat, looking back and admiring the lake instead, marveling at the stillness of its inky black surface and wishing I could take some of its serenity for myself. I jump when the passenger door opens.
Chase is standing there, a boyish grin on his face as he holds out his hand. “Not much point of being here if we don’t get out and enjoy the view.”
I peer down at his outstretched palm. The memory of what I imagined those hands doing to me earlier makes heat coil low in my gut and it’s enough to make me not want to touch him at all. Instead, I maneuver around him and slide off the seat onto the ground, taking in my surroundings.
It’s deserted. I guess midnight on a Monday isn’t a peak time for lake goers.
Chase moves and I expect him to walk toward the water, but instead, he goes around to the back of his truck, dropping the tailgate and hoisting himself up before turning to look down at me with his hands on his hips. “Come on, Alina May. Let’s stay awhile.”
I walk to the side and peer into the bed, watching as he spreads out a large, thick green blanket. Does he just keep that back here? “Do this a lot, do you?”
“You know the motto. Always be prepared.” He smirks.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes. “Whatever you say, Boy Scout. Although, let’s be real with each other and admit you’ve never really been one.”
“Yeah, well there were a lot of things I should have been. Guess I was just a little late in learning the lessons.” He comes to the edge of the truck bed, reaching down to help me up.
This time, I do take his hand.
We settle in, lying on the afghan as we stare at the sky. It’s clear tonight. Peaceful. At least, it would be if I weren’t right next to the man who broke my heart, pretending like everything’s fine and dandy. The space between us is charged like it always is when we’re around each other, and I clear my throat, shifting slightly as I stare up at the stars twinkling in the sky.
His voice pierces the silence. “Do you want to talk about it? Your dad, I mean.”
Yes. “Not really.”
He nods. “I figured as much. Sometimes talking fucking sucks.”
“You can say that again.” My chest tightens. “You know, I’ve never been out here this late before.”
“Really?” He looks over at me. “After I got my license, I used to come out here all the time, usually after leaving you in the middle of the night. I’d lay down just like we are now and think about all the ways I wasn’t good enough. All the ways I had failed the people in my life.” His voice is heavy. “All the ways I was scared of failing you .”
My stomach flips, old wounds gaping open, and I close my eyes, willing the burn away. “I thought you said talkin’ sucks.”
“I did. And it does. But I’ve learned it also helps.”
“ You talkin’ ?” The corner of my mouth lifts. “I don’t believe it.”
He chuckles. “People change, Alina. I’m not the same fucked-up kid I was back then. Not really, anyway.”
My stomach drops, because do I believe people can change? Ask me that years ago and my answer would have been no, but I’ve seen my daddy go from one extreme to another like the man he was never even existed, so I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibility. “He wasn’t always this bad, you know?” I blurt.
Chase’s head turns toward me, his hazel eyes piercing. “Your dad?”
I nod, sucking my teeth, willing away the embarrassment that’s filling me up like helium. “Yeah. At first, it was just a way for him to cope because losin’ Mama was hard on him, you know? He never really learned how to live without her, just turned to the drink instead, and by the time I realized it was out of control, he was already gone. Lost at the bottom of a bottle.”
Chase doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful for it. I don’t need someone telling me how to feel or trying to justify Daddy’s actions. But it’s cathartic, speaking my truths out loud.
“Stupid me, huh?” I huff out a hollow laugh. “I just thought…” I shake my head, not able to speak around the lump in my throat.
“You thought you’d be enough?” he whispers.
“Yeah.” My voice cracks, a tear slipping down the side of my face. “I thought I’d be enough.”
He reaches over, hesitating before he links our hands.
Warmth spreads through me, comforting all of my broken pieces.
And at least for tonight, that’s enough.