23. Chase
Chase
Ihear the faint muffling of words as I crank my wrench. I remove one of my headphones, Oasis blaring in my ears. “What?”
“I said I’m finished for the day,” Simon, my apprentice, replies.
He laughs. “You’ve been under there for two hours.”
Well, damn.
I sit up and wipe my hands on the rag hanging from my back pocket and glance at the clock on the wall. Sure enough, it’s 5:54 p.m. And my parents are expecting me for dinner at six.
“You good to lock up?” Simon asks as he walks to the door.
“Yeah, I’ve got it—go home, Simon. Enjoy your weekend and I’ll see you Monday.”
“You too, Sarge.”
I hate it when he calls me that.
He throws a wave over his shoulder and disappears into the parking lot. His motorbike roars before he tears off down the street.
My phone beeps in my front pocket. I slip it out, tapping to open the message from last night’s company—Rachel.
Rachel: So … you up for a repeat?
I smirk, tapping out a response.
Me: I’ve got dinner plans. You free after?
She replies immediately.
Rachel: Always.
I suppress a grin and push to my feet. I run my rag over the Mustang’s curves, polishing the chrome. She’s a beauty.
The owner wants this one restored to factory condition, which will probably take me the better part of six months. Redo the upholstery, rewire the engine, a brand-new paint job. She’s going to come out a dream.
I started working for Jasper’s father, Earl, in his garage ten years ago, right after everything went down with Summer.
The timing was perfect. I needed to pay back my parents and sink my teeth into something that would offer the perfect distraction.
Sure, the money was shit to start, but it all helped.
My parents lost their minds when I pulled out of college. Hell, there were times when I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake, but whenever I’d catch up with Steele during college break, I didn’t feel like I was missing out at all.
I would’ve regretted leaving. I just know it. I was beyond grateful Earl went out on a limb hiring me. Never cared much for cars, but it didn’t take me long to fall in love with them. And the pay is just enough to cover my bills with extra to spare for Mom.
The look on my parents’ faces when I hand them money at the end of each week is always worth it.
I clean up and return tools and supplies to their proper places. After prepping everything for Monday, I lock up the garage and climb into my truck—my much newer truck than the Silverado I sold off.
My phone buzzes when I pull onto Main Street. Steele’s name flashes on the screen. I hit answer and put it on speaker.
“Hewitt.”
“Whitmore,” he replies. “What’s going on, man?”
“Just heading over to see Mom. What’s up?”
“Nice. Just wanted to give you the heads-up that I’m flying in next week.”
I turn right. “No shit? How come?”
“No game next week, so figured I’d make the obligatory quarterly visit home. See if I can convince Liv to let me buy her a new car.”
Steele was drafted by the Cowboys six years ago. It’s funny—I came to Ocean Grove from Dallas; he moved to Dallas after Ocean Grove.
“It’ll be good to see you. It’s been too long,” I say.
“I still haven’t seen the new garage.”
“I’ll show you when you get in.”
“Maybe I can finally convince my sister to let me buy her a new car.”
“She was in the shop the other day. Came in to have her oil changed and brake pads replaced.”
“She told me.” He groans. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told her, I’m happy to get her something that isn’t twenty years old.”
“Her Toyota isn’t twenty years old,” I counter.
“It’s old enough.”
I roll my eyes, huffing a laugh. Steele throws his money around like it’s confetti. He might have tens of millions, but he’s almost too generous to the people he loves.
“I’m sure she just wants to pave her own way in life.”
“Anyway,” Steele continues. “You free to grab a beer while I’m in town?”
“Always. Just text me when you’re here.”
“Will do.” A pause. “How’s your mom doing?”
My grip tightens on the wheel. “She has good days and bad days.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s fine. It is what it is.”
We talk for a few more minutes, swapping updates. He catches me up on his training and life in Dallas before he disconnects with a promise to text me his flight details.
I turn onto my parents’ street, and that same, familiar chill seizes my veins when I pull into their driveway.
Guilt eats away at me. I’ve been so busy at the garage, I haven’t been to visit Mom in over a week. My gaze automatically swings to the house next door. The sun is about to dip behind the trees, singeing the rooftop a vibrant orange.
No matter how many times I see the Hayes’ household, I always glance at the porch thinking maybe, someday, the girl I fell in love with more than ten years ago will be out front playing her guitar.
I kill the engine and make my way up the worn footpath. Weeds are overgrown, and it looks like Mom’s favorite rose bush is on its way out.
I let myself in and the smell of something burning hits me immediately.
“Dad?”
“I’m here,” he calls from the kitchen.
I find him standing over the stove, scraping blackened something out of a pan and straight into the trash.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the counter.
“Tried to make her favorite,” he says with a weak smile. “I left the stove for two minutes and it burnt to a crisp.”
“I’ll order pizza,” I say, opening the delivery app. “Meat lovers?”
“Thanks.” He sighs.
I place the order and pocket my cell. “Where is she?”
“Resting. It’s been a rough afternoon.” He sets the pan in the sink, filling it with dish liquid and hot water to soak. “She couldn’t even hold a spoon.”
Shit.
“I’ll go sit with her.” I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Upstairs?”
“She’d like that.” He slaps me on the shoulder.
I head upstairs to find Mom nestled in bed with her eyes closed, propped up against her fluffy pillows. I settle into the armchair beside her, reaching to press her hand between my two palms.
“Hey, Ma,” I say softly.
Her eyes flutter open with a smile. “There’s my boy.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Oh, you know. Been better, been worse.”
“I’ve ordered pizza for dinner.”
She chuckles. “I thought I could smell something burning. I’m just thankful I wasn’t having a stroke.”
I join in her amusement. “He tried.”
“How was work?”
“Same old. I started rebuilding the engine on the old Mustang I told you about.” I try to suppress a grin.
Her eyes narrow. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I lick my bottom lip. “Steele’s coming back next week.”
Her face lights up. “Oh, how wonderful! You’ll have to make sure he stops by to see your old mom then, won’t you?”
“I’m sure he’d love to see you.”
“Hmm.” She studies me for a moment.
“What?”
“Nothing.” A small smile plays at her lips.
“Ma!”
She chuckles. “Fine. I was just thinking … Steele’s sister is lovely, isn’t she?”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Sure.”
Where’s she going with this?
“Well?” She cocks a brow.
“Oh, no.” I point at her. “No, no, no. I know exactly where this is going and it’s not happening.”
“Why not?”
“She’s Steele’s sister. It would be weird.”
“Oh.” She waves me off. “That’s an excuse and you know it.”
I shift in the chair. Here we go again.
“You’ve spent years keeping everyone at arm’s length, Chase.” Her voice softens. “I’ve seen you with women. They come and go. None of them last.”
“Come on, Ma. That’s not—”
She squeezes my hand. “You don’t let anyone in.”
I don’t know why we keep having this conversation. I’m fine. I have plenty of fun. I just prefer to keep things simple. No expectations, no promises. No one gets too close and no one gets hurt.
It’s worked perfectly.
“All I want is for you to be happy,” she continues. “Truly happy.”
“I’m plenty happy.”
“When was the last time you brought a girl home to meet us? When was the last time you went on an actual date—not whatever it is you get up to on the weekends?”
For fuck’s sake. “I’m not having this conversation with my mother.”
“Well, someone needs to have it with you.” Her eyes glisten. “You’ve spent ten years putting your life on hold. Taking care of me, your father, the garage. Somewhere along the way you stopped looking after yourself.”
I wouldn’t say that …
“That was my choice. And I was happy to make it.”
“I know you were. And I love you for it.” She cups my cheek with a trembling hand. “But I also know something broke in you when she left.”
My heart seizes.
“I watched it happen,” she says, her voice quiet. “You’re my son—I don’t want you to keep running away from the possibility of being happy again.”
I sigh. “I look after myself. I work out. I run a business.” I shrug. “I’m happy.”
“Anyway.” She sighs, shoulders slumping. “Did you hear about Doug?”
My brows mash together. “Hayes?”
She nods.
His name tastes like bile on my tongue. “No.”
“The police came by yesterday.” My heart begins to pound behind my rib cage. I don’t speak. I don’t need to. “He took his own life, apparently.”
The words coil around me like smoke.
Doug Hayes is dead.
I should feel relief. Satisfaction. Something. But I’m numb.
“I can’t say it’s a shame,” she says. “Not after what he put that poor girl through.”
My throat tightens. That’s putting it lightly. I share the same fucking sentiment. The skid mark deserves to rot.
She continues. “Anyway, I hear the funeral is next Wednesday.”
I can’t speak. Blue, purple, yellow, and red—the colors of her bruises—come back in flashes, along with memories that hurt in a different way. Streaks of auburn hair. Limbs tangled. Flushed cheeks.
Go home, Chase.
She hasn’t been back to Ocean Grove. Not once. I hear her, though, sometimes. On the radio. I can hardly stomach it. She sounds as achingly beautiful as she was the first time I heard her.
The first time Simon turned up the volume on her song, I switched it straight off again. I can’t hear it.
I don’t know what this means. Is Summer coming back? Does she even know?
Every now and then, I catch an update. See her face on a magazine cover at the grocery store, a headline about an award, a photo of her at some red-carpet event looking like she belongs to a completely different world. Somewhere far, far away from me.
A world I’m not part of. I didn’t even get the chance.
I wonder if she remembers.
“Chase.”
I blink, realizing I’ve drifted. “Sorry. What?”
“I asked if you think she might come back.”
“Who?” I know exactly who.
She responds with a look that says as much.
I blow out a breath and palm my nape. “I don’t know, Mom.” I lean forward and kiss her forehead. “Get some rest. I’ve ordered pizza. I’ll have Dad bring it to you when it arrives.”
“You aren’t staying?”
“I’m beat. I’m going to head home.”
Her brows pinch. “All right, hon. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I turn to leave when she stops me. “Honey … are you okay?”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
I’m not. I haven’t been for a long time.
With that I mind, I head downstairs to say goodbye to Dad.
I can’t stop thinking about what Mom said. So, I do what I always do when I don’t want to think.
I grab my keys and head straight to Rachel’s.