34. Chase
Chase
“I’ve got you.”
I don’t know why those words come out or why I felt an innate need to hold her, but she’s limp against my chest.
Her skin is cold and clammy, her face void of color. But at least her breathing is tempered—shallow, but tempered.
“Sir?” Sally, one of the paramedics, looks at me while her partner finishes securing Mom to the stretcher. “We need to transport your mother now. She’s stable, but she’ll likely need stitches and overnight monitoring. Will you be riding with us to the hospital?”
Her eyes flick to Summer.
“My father’s on his way,” I manage.
As if I’ve conjured him, Dad appears in the doorway, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. His eyes are wild as they scan the room, landing on Mom. “Oh, my Felicity,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
Mom’s eyes peel open at the sound of his voice. “Dan?”
“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m with you.”
Dad looks at me, then Summer curled in my arms, then back to me.
Something passes between us that neither of us voice.
He gives me a sharp nod, and I return it.
“I’ll call you with an update,” he says, moving to follow the stretcher out the door.
Sally pauses beside me. “Your friend … it looks like a vasovagal response. It’s most likely stress-induced.
Keep her warm and ensure her feet are elevated.
Make sure she drinks something sugary when she comes around.
If she isn’t responsive within fifteen minutes or shows any signs of confusion, call us back. ”
“Got it,” I reply.
Then they’re gone.
I stare down at the small figure in my arms, mapping out the tiny smattering of freckles dotted across the bridge of her nose. The way her dark lashes touch the tops of her cheekbones. The way her lips are slightly parted the same way she used to sleep.
The stairs creak as I carry her up to my old bedroom. I shoulder the door open and step inside.
It’s the same as I left it. Mom never changed anything. She said she wanted it to feel like home whenever I visited, like time could be captured as she grew sicker.
The same desk I used to write at. The same books lining the shelves. The same navy bedspread. The window I used to leave unlocked.
I lower Summer onto the bed as gently as I can, propping a pillow under her feet. Then I grab the old comforter at the foot of the bed, draping it over her.
I drag the desk chair closer and drop into it, positioning myself so I can watch her. My elbows land on my thighs and my head falls forward. I rake my fingers through my hair.
I was such a dick to her at the bar and now … I hate to think of what could have happened if she hadn’t found my mom.
I wanted to stay with her. I wanted to speak with her. But my heart wouldn’t allow it. Loving someone is complicated. Hating someone is simple.
It’s a wall you can erect or a fire you can stoke. The more kindling you add to the flames, the less you feel the cold underneath. And cold is all heartbreak really is. A cold, vast space where a person used to be.
I got good at stoking the flames. Years of practice does that. Every unanswered question, every birthday passed, every morning I woke up and she still wasn’t beside me—I fed it all to the fire. It kept me warm. It kept me moving.
Now she’s back and I’m beginning to forget why I bothered building the wall in the first place.
Because she resented you. Regretted you. Because loving her ruined you.
I scrub my hands down my face and lean back, staring at the ceiling.
Summer shifts and a small sound slips from her lips. I go still.
Her brow furrows and her fingers twitch.
She gently opens her eyes and stares up, blinking into focus. Her head turns and that blue gaze finds mine.
“Chase?”
“Hey.” I clear my throat. “You passed out.”
“Felicity.” She jackknifes into a sitting position, her hand flying to cradle her head. “Is she—”
“She’s at the hospital with Dad. She’s okay, she just needs monitoring.”
Air whooshes out of her.
She swings her legs over the side of the bed, throwing off the blanket. I’m on my feet before I realize I’ve moved. “Don’t. You need to rest.”
“I’m fine.” She winces. “Your mother needed my help and I passed out … God, this is so embarrassing.”
I sit again. “No, it’s not.”
Her deep blues latch onto me before they sweep around the room. “Why am I in your old bedroom?”
“You needed somewhere to lie down.”
Her throat bobs. “It looks the same.” She runs a shaky hand over the comforter. “Even the bedding is the same.”
I turn my head, unsure of what to say, so I settle for, “I need to get you a drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“You need sugar.” I stand and walk out.
I pull out the cold cranberry juice from the fridge and pour a generous glass before returning to Summer. Her delicate fingers brush mine as she takes it and I draw in a choppy breath before stepping back.
She sips it slowly.
Color gradually returns to her cheeks. Good.
“Thank you.” She licks her lips and my eyes track the movement. She catches me looking and I glance away.
Her focus drifts to the window behind me. I don’t expect her to speak, but she does.
“You know, I think that window saved me,” she whispers. “Knowing it would always be open.”
My jaw tightens.
Don’t do this. Don’t let her in.
I grunt in response. It’s not remotely eloquent, but it’s all I’ve got.
“It’s true.” Her voice wavers. “All those nights when things got bad … I knew no matter how many times I climbed through it, you’d be here. It was the only thing that kept me going sometimes.”
Fuck.
I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to feel anything.
“That was a long time ago,” I grit out.
She sets the glass down on my bedside table, exhaling. “Look, Chase—”
Her tone has that We need to talk edge to it, and every muscle in my body tenses.
Hell no. No, no, no. I’m not doing this—I can’t. “You should probably go,” I rumble.
Her expression drops. “What?”
“You seem better.” I stand again, backing away to put distance between us. “I should get to the hospital.”
“Chase, wait. About seeing you and Steele at the bar … I just wanted to—”
“You don’t need to.”
“Please, can we just—”
“What?” I finally snap. “Can we talk? Catch up? Pretend like the last ten years didn’t happen? Like they didn’t completely fuck me up?” My chest flames.
Her mouth flaps open and close.
“You found my mom and I’m grateful. But that doesn’t mean we need to—” I wave a hand between us. “Do this.”
“Do what?”
“A heart-to-heart. I don’t fucking know—whatever this is.” I grab the empty glass from the nightstand to busy myself. “There’s nothing left to say. I don’t know you anymore, and you don’t know me. We were kids, Summer. So forget about whatever you think happened at the bar.”
“This shouldn’t be as weird as it is.”
“No?”
“No! I had to start over and you’re the one who’s been shitty toward me ever since I got here.” Her words are a slap in the face.
“You have no idea,” I bite out.
She swings her legs over the edge of the bed. “God, you’re such a dick.”
For a second, I almost close the distance and tell her that it’s to protect myself. That even if I could be civil, I can’t forget, and I sure as shit can’t pretend.
I scoff and whatever tenderness was in her eyes a moment ago erases, replaced with hardness.
“You know what?” She stands. “Got it. Message received. I’ll leave.”
Goddamn it.
I sigh. “Summer—”
“No, you’re right.” Her voice is clipped as she looks me up and down.
“It was my mistake for believing that the old Chase is still in there somewhere. Clearly, I was wrong.” She shakes her head as her eyes fill with tears.
“I get why you’re mad at me. I really do.
But I was the one whose life was turned upside down that day. Not yours. And it still hurts me too.”
You have no fucking idea.
She pushes past me, stopping when she reaches the top of the staircase. She peers at me over her shoulder. “I hope your mom feels better.”
Then she descends the stairs, hand on the banister to keep herself steady. The front door swings open, and she disappears through it without looking back.
Go after her, my gut shrieks.
I don’t move.
I rub my eyes, releasing a loud groan.
My phone pings with a message. I pull it out, expecting an update from Dad.
Rachel: Hey, handsome. Haven’t heard from you. Want some company tonight? Work was so busy today and I could use some stress relief …
Rachel doesn’t come with any strings or history attached.
She’s reliable and uncomplicated. She’s attractive and funny.
She’s a catch. I know I’m lucky to have her attention.
Thing is, she doesn’t hold a candle to the woman responsible for my past.
Three days ago, I would have jumped at the chance to lose myself in her for another night.
But now all I can think about is the way Summer looked at me when she was about to open up.
She lowered her mask, and I’m wondering if I took it a step too far by pushing her away.
The pain on her face was my handiwork. I have to live with the man that makes me.
Her ache is a mirror, and I can’t stand what I see in it. But my stupid heart remembers everything I want to forget.
I shove the phone back into my pocket without replying, deciding to meet Steele for a beer at my place after stopping by the hospital.
I grab my keys and crank up the volume in my truck until the bass rattles the windows, but I still can’t drown her out.
That window saved me.
Yeah.
It saved me too. That’s the problem.