29. Chase
Chase
My boots eat up the gravel as I march to my truck, every muscle wound tight.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it, pulling out my cigarettes instead. I light one and inhale deeply.
The tension eases slightly until I hear hurried steps clipping along the ground behind me.
Great.
Smoke spills from my lips as I exhale.
“Wait,” she calls.
I keep walking.
“Chase.”
I don’t want to stop. Every instinct tugs at me to climb into my car and get the fuck out of here before I say something stupid.
If I look at her again, I don’t want to lose my resolve. But her voice is like a lasso. It always has been. It wraps around my chest and yanks.
I slow to a stop but don’t turn around.
She rounds me, anyway, placing herself directly in my path. The sunlight illuminates her delicate silhouette, loose tendrils of hair floating around her heart-shaped face.
She doesn’t look like the woman in paparazzi and magazine photos.
Standing here, her hands on her hips, dressed in basic leggings and an oversized sweatshirt and plain sneakers, she looks like the old Summer.
She looks more herself than I do.
Her ocean blues throw flames at me. They fall to the cigarette between my fingers, her brows hooking down before smoothing out.
“What?” I grit out.
“Excuse me?” She gestures wildly to my garage. “That’s all you have to say? You see me for the first time in almost a decade and you just … walk away?”
“What do you expect from me, Hayes? A party? Notify town council to throw a parade?” I cross my arms.
Her eyes narrow. “How about hello? It’s nice to see you?”
“Hello. It’s nice to see you,” I deadpan.
“You don’t have to be a dick.”
“No?” I cock my head, all the venom I’ve been swallowing dripping into my voice. “Should I be kind and welcoming? Roll out the red carpet for Ocean Grove’s resident superstar? And then what—wake up tomorrow and find you’ve fucked off again?”
She flinches as if I’ve slapped her.
Good. Maybe she can finally feel a fraction of what I felt.
“That’s not fair,” she whispers. “You aren’t the one who gets to be mad here.”
“Fair?” My laugh comes out rough. “You want to talk about fair?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows as I advance a step. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Bullshit. There’s always a choice.”
Her face hardens as she resurrects her wall brick by brick right in front of me. “I’m mad at you, too, you know.”
“Great.” I take another puff. “Then I guess we’re on the same page.”
“Yeah.” Her shoulders drop. “I guess so.”
Silence settles between us.
This isn’t who we are. This isn’t what we do. But I don’t know how to get back there. Her father just died, and I don’t know how to behave around her.
I’m lost.
Sure, she’s the same Summer she always was on the outside. But I can see it in her eyes. Time has changed her.
I hate this shit. It’s why it’s easier not to feel.
You go from understanding what the other person is saying without using any words to two strangers, wearing the faces of people we used to know.
I wouldn’t know how to get back there even if I tried. Not that I want to.
I’m also painfully aware that I have nothing left to give her—she took it all. My chest is an empty cavity, scraped clean, and my words aren’t strong enough to fill the space.
“Why are you here?” she asks quietly.
Her question catches me by surprise. “What?”
“In Ocean Grove,” she clarifies. “UCLA. You were supposed to—”
“Didn’t work out.”
She waits for more, but I don’t offer further explanation.
Some things she doesn’t get to know anymore. She lost that right when she walked away.
Her eyes trace my ink before flicking back up.
“You’re different.”
I take another drag, turning my head to blow out the smoke. “Could say the same for you.”
“Sum!” Addie’s voice cuts through us as she exits the garage, headed toward the sleek Mercedes parked out front. “Let’s go!”
Summer glances over her shoulder, then back at me.
I swear, for a split second, the mask drops, and I see the girl underneath. The Hayes who used to climb through my window and giggle as we listened to music.
Then it’s gone, replaced with steel.
“I’m not staying, just so you know. I’ll be out of your hair in a few weeks,” she says. “Try not to choke on your own hostility before then.”
With that, she whips around and makes for Addie’s car, her hips swaying, auburn hair catching the light as she goes.
Gravel kicks up under the tires as Addie careens out of the parking lot.
Finally, I check my cell and find a message from Steele.
Steele: Flight gets in at 6. Beer tonight?
I finish my cigarette and crush it under my foot before tapping out a response.
Me: Yeah, man. How’s my place at 8?
He replies right away.
Steele: Looking forward to it
Deciding it’s best not to leave Simon in the lurch, I message him so he knows I’m taking the day off. I spare one last glance in the direction Summer disappeared in before climbing into my truck.
This time, I don’t chase her.
* * *
Steele turns up at my place with a suitcase, a case of beer, and a smile that could sell toothpaste.
“Here he is!” he says, pulling me in for a hug.
I huff a laugh, clapping him on the back as he lets himself in. “Good to see you, man.”
“You too. Been a while.”
“Four months.”
He dumps his suitcase near the lounge before heading to the fridge and storing the beer.
“What’s with the luggage?” I ask, leaning against the kitchen doorframe.
“I’m staying here,” he says, grabbing two beers. He holds them against the countertop and pops off the caps with his palm one at a time.
My forehead wrinkles. “What? Why?”
He shrugs. “Why not?” He passes me a beer.
I eye the bubbly liquid. Fuck, I could really use that right now.
He knocks the neck of his bottle against mine before we both take a long pull, sighing after we swallow.
Gunner comes charging in from the bedroom, his tail wagging madly.
“There’s my boy!” Steele drops to a crouch, holding his arms out for Gunner who doesn’t waste a second, throwing himself into Steele’s embrace.
Gunner licks his face, grunting and groaning as Steele scratches him madly. “Oh, who’s a good boy? Who’s the best boy? It’s you. You are.”
“You gonna make out with my dog, Hewitt?” I ask, taking a swig.
His eyes narrow as he regards me. “You’re just pissed he loves me more than you.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head.
He stands straight, grabbing his beer and eyeing me over the rim of the bottle.
“What?”
“What’s wrong with your face?”
My brows snap together. “Nothing’s wrong with my face.”
“Bullshit.” He flicks his fingers toward me. “You’ve got that weird, constipated look you get whenever something’s bothering you.” He rests a hip against the kitchen counter. “Out with it.”
I snort. “You’re losing it.”
He shoots me an incredulous look. “Something’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I lie.
“Chase.”
I stare into my bottle.
“I fucking knew it.”
My lungs deflate. “Summer’s back.”
He stares at me blankly.
I shake my head and turn, heading for my couch. Steele trails behind me.
“Hold up. You mean Summer, as in your Summer?”
I drop onto the couch. “She isn’t my anything.”
He joins me. “You mean Grammy Award-winning, hot, famous singer Summer Hayes?”
I scrub a hand down my face. “That’s the one.”
His forehead wrinkles. “Why?”
“Her dad died.”
His brows shoot up. “No shit?”
“She came into the shop.”
“The garage? Why?”
“Something to do with her mom’s old car.”
He nods, processing. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Dude—”
“I said nothing happened. So, nothing happened.”
He holds up a hand in surrender. “All right, all right. Nothing happened. Did you talk to her?”
“Sort of.” I side-eye him. “It wasn’t great.”
“Define ‘not great.’”
“I was a dick to her.” Understatement of the century. I let my emotions get the better of me, hurling ten years of bitterness toward her.
“Damn, bro.”
“Yeah.” We take another sip at the same time.
“She was with Addie.”
Steele chokes on his beer, spluttering and pounding his chest, eyes wide. “Addie?” He croaks. “Addie Walker, Addie?”
This time, I smirk. “Addie. As in your Addie.”
“Smart-ass.” He flops back against the cushions, mirroring me by rubbing his stubble. “Well, shit.”
I raise my bottle in cheers. “Welcome back to Ocean Grove.”
He clinks his drink against mine, but I don’t miss the way his jaw tightens. The way his eyes go distant for a second before he pulls himself back to the present.
Yeah, I know the feeling.
We remain silent for a moment.
“So, what’s the play?” he asks eventually. “You gonna avoid Summer?”
“Probably.” I take another swig. “You?”
“Addie?” He snorts. “Avoidance is the only play.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs, the beer dangling from my fingertips. “Solid.”
“Solid.”
We both know how flimsy the plan is. This town is too small. Avoidance never works. Not with us and those two women, anyway.
I turn to look at Steele. “How long you here for?”
“Two weeks. I need to be back for preseason. Coach has my nuts in a vise over my conditioning. Apparently, I’ve been ‘slacking.’” He makes air quotes. “His words.”
Steele’s never slacked a season in his life. He’s in top condition as the Cowboys’ starting quarterback. He’s worth every penny of his enormous contract.
“But don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your way. I’ll bounce between here and Mom’s.”
“You’re welcome to crash here as long as you want. You know that.”
A grin curls his lips. “Appreciate it, man. But it’s been a while since I’ve been back. I want to spend as much time with Liv as I can.”
I nod. “You know where I keep the spare key.”
“Already in my pocket.” His eyes twinkle. He releases a hard breath through his nose, raking a hand through his hair. “So, bar tomorrow?”
I’m relieved I’m not the only one rattled by Ocean Grove’s newest guests. At least Steele wears his discomfort the same way I do.
My mouth tilts up. “I thought you’d never ask.”