13. Chase
Chase
They say bad things happen in threes.
Dropping my book in my lap, I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling, begging whoever will fucking listen to be done with it.
I’ve had my three.
Mom. Summer. Steele.
I think I’ve had enough to last a lifetime.
It’s been two hours since Summer left, and I’m already having withdrawals.
I tried to distract myself with video games and Netflix.
That didn’t work. So I went upstairs and buried myself in my book, which has proven just as useless.
I’ve been reading the same line for half an hour, and I still have no idea what it says.
The words rearrange themselves, burning their way into my bones. Cancer. Bruises. Divorce.
I slam the book shut and toss it onto my bedside table, collapsing back against my mattress.
I haven’t been able to think about anything besides Mom, hooked up to IV lines and monitors while doctors ran more tests, the names of which I had to google.
Then Steele and whatever’s going on with his parents.
And trying to understand why that somehow makes him want to ruin what he had with Addie.
And of course, Summer. Dumping my problems onto her when she already has enough bullshit to deal with. She doesn’t need mine too.
Selfishly, I didn’t realize how badly I needed to see her.
To talk to her. The moment she stepped foot in my room last night, it felt like the weight pressing down on my chest lifted and I could finally breathe.
Like the moment her small, soft hand slipped into mine, the world went quiet. That’s what she does. Anchors me.
The crunch of tires on gravel sounds from outside. The moment I see Dad step out of the car, I leg it downstairs, my heart in my throat.
I slide my hand down the stair railing, grab the bottom post, and swing around just as the front door opens.
Mom’s attention lands on me as she lifts her head. She freezes in the entryway. When my misty gaze meets hers, she doesn’t say anything. She throws her arms out wide, beckoning me for a hug. I step forward, winding my arms around her, rocking her side to side.
“Hi, honey,” she murmurs into my sweatshirt.
“Hey, Mom,” I breathe against her hair.
She rubs my back and squeezes tight before pulling away, her hands reaching to frame my face. “I don’t care how old you are, I’ll never tire of hugging my boy.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Me neither.”
Dad steps inside and closes the door behind him. “Let’s get you settled.”
He places his hand at Mom’s lower back, guiding her into the kitchen. I trail behind, watching her as she moves. She seems steady and balanced on her feet, which loosens the knot in my chest.
I offer her a chair at the table and she waves me off. “I’m fine, Chase. You don’t need to fuss.”
“Humor me,” I say, planting a kiss on the crown of her head once she’s seated.
Dad sets a cup of tea in front of her. She wraps both hands around the mug and leans back with a sigh. “I could get used to this.”
“Being home?” I ask.
“Being spoiled.” Her eyes crinkle. “I am the queen of this household, after all.”
“Don’t I know it,” Dad mutters.
Mom’s mouth drops open in mock offense, and I huff a laugh.
Dad winks, already moving to the fridge. “Breakfast?”
“We already ate, Dan,” Mom says.
“That hospital slop doesn’t count.” He pulls out bacon and sausages. “You need a proper meal.”
“A proper meal?” She arches a brow. “The last time you cooked, the smoke alarm went off.”
“That was one time,” he replies.
“It’s happened three times. Believe me. I counted.”
He grumbles something under his breath and gets to work heating the frying pan, drizzling oil, and dropping in the bacon and sausages.
Mom catches my eye and smirks. “Men.”
I lean against the counter, watching them, searching for cracks. Waiting for the moment her expression falters or a flash of pain she can’t hide. It never comes.
She seems so normal. Joking. Smiling. Comfortable. Herself.
It’s as if nothing’s changed. As if there isn’t poison growing inside her. It helps, seeing her like this.
“And what about you, honey?” she asks.
“Huh?” I ask.
She chuckles. “I said, what do you have planned for tonight?”
“Oh,” I say, pushing off the counter. “There’s a bonfire.” I scratch the nape of my neck. “I don’t think I’m going.”
Her brows draw together. “Why not? A bonfire sounds fun.”
My eyes dart to Dad’s before they return to her.
“Because of me?” she asks.
I shrug.
“Chase.” Her voice softens. “I’m not going to fall apart the moment you leave the house.”
“I know that,” I say, turning my head.
“Honey.” She reaches across the table and I step forward, taking her hand. “Look at me.”
I do.
“This isn’t about tonight, is it?”
I take a deep breath and when I release it, a splintered sound escapes.
“This is something we’re all going to have to learn to live with. It isn’t going anywhere. I’ve accepted that.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m sorry I gave you a fright. Yes, I had a seizure, but the new medication will help keep it under control. I still feel like myself, honey.”
“I know, but—” My throat tightens. “What if something happens and I’m not here? What if you need me and I’m—” I can’t finish.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“He’s just worried, Felicity,” Dad says quietly, serving her a plate.
“I understand this is difficult for you. I know you’re worried, and I love you for it. But Chase …” She gives me a sad smile. “Staying home isn’t going to make my cancer go away.”
It feels like someone punches my gut.
“I’m scared too,” she admits. “But I can’t watch you put your life on hold for me.” She shakes her head. “That would hurt worse than any of this.”
I open my mouth with a rebuttal, but the look on her face stops me cold. “Go to the bonfire tonight. Take your mind off your old mom and be eighteen.” Her eyes glisten. “Live, Chase.”
Dad clears his throat. “She’s right, son.”
His tone leaves no room for argument, so I don’t bother disagreeing.
Mom gently tugs on my arm, and I bend to wrap her in an embrace.
“I love you,” she says against my shoulder.
“I love you, too, Mom.”
A knock at the door sounds.
“I’ll get it,” I say, releasing my hold to see who’s here.
I swing open the front door and am greeted by a giant bouquet. Yellows and oranges and pinks and blues.
I spot the woven leather bracelet fastened to the hand holding it and a smile splits my face.
Steele lowers the flowers. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, man. They aren’t for you.”
“You got my mom flowers?”
His brows knit. “No. I got them for your dad.”
Laughter bursts from my lips, making me feel ten times lighter. I step aside to let him in.
“Who is it?” Mom’s voice floats through the hallway.
Steele makes a beeline for the kitchen and I follow close behind. I lean against the doorframe, watching.
Mom’s face lights up when she sees him. “Steele Hewitt. What on earth?”
“These are for you.” He thrusts the flowers toward her. She slowly stands to accept them, bringing them to her nose.
My parents liked Steele the moment they met him, and he’s always been respectful to them. I may have only moved to Ocean Grove just over a year ago, but we’re close. I know he tends to get rowdy, but underneath the cool-guy exterior, he’s more sensitive than he lets on.
I can see what he’s trying to hide. The trouble is, I don’t know why he works so hard to keep it buried. I’m not even sure Jasper or Xavier have seen the real Steele, which stumps me.
He’s the brother I never had.
“Oh, they’re lovely.” Mom’s eyes soften as she rubs a petal between her thumb and index fingers. “You really didn’t need to.”
His foot scuffs against the floorboards. “I know. I wanted to.” He palms his nape, his voice catching. “I heard about … you know … and I just wanted to … yeah.”
“They’re beautiful,” she says, tugging him in for a side hug. “You’re a sweet boy.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he replies with a wink. “I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“You’ve never fooled me,” she says, reaching for the cupboard above the fridge for a vase. She carries the flowers to the sink, unwrapping them and trimming the stems before filling the vase and carefully arranging the blooms.
“They’re so colorful and happy.” She beams.
“Sure are,” Dad agrees, giving Steele a nod. “Thanks.”
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Steele says. “It’s good to see you so alert, Mrs. W.”
She spins on her heel. “I don’t know why you’re all surprised that I’m feeling fine. I didn’t keel over and die … yet.”
Dad chokes on his tea as my eyes widen.
“Mom!” I say, my mouth falling open at the dark joke.
I look to Steele and it’s clear he doesn’t know how to respond either.
Mom’s face twists in amusement. Then, Steele tips his head back and explodes into laughter, which makes Dad crack a smile. Seconds later, I join in.
“She’s been saying stuff like that all morning,” Dad says.
“Too soon?” she jokes before flicking her eyes to Steele. “You’re going to this bonfire tonight, yes?”
He pans to me before returning to Mom, lifting a skeptical brow. “Yes …”
“Good.” She waves a hand in my direction. “Take this one with you. Have some fun. He’s one step away from reading my obituary.”
I study her across the kitchen and realize this is what she needs. Life, laughter, and joy. Not to be blanketed in metaphorical bubble wrap and treated like she’s made of porcelain.
My parents’ future looks different now, changed in ways no one can undo. But that doesn’t mean the light in their lives has to disappear.
Right now, in this moment, we’re all right. The tension in my chest unfurls and flutters away.
I think of Summer and watch my best friend crack up with my parents and realize I won’t be as alone as I thought I might be.