36. Chase #2
“The boy who did fucking everything for you? That kid died a long time ago.” I step forward until we’re only inches apart, close enough to see the tears gather along her lash line.
“You know exactly what happened. Don’t pretend you don’t.
You’re a smart girl, Hayes.” I wink. “You can figure it out.”
She scans me. “I can’t.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?”
“I can’t!” Her voice breaks. “You’re the one who’s hardened when I’m the one who was broken. I’m the one who should be angry, not you. I’m the one who lost everything. If anyone has the right to be a prick here, it’s me.”
I bark a sharp, bitter laugh. “Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.”
“Oh yeah? Were you the one lying awake every night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was safe? If she was alive? Were you the one running through every possible scenario, tearing yourself apart, trying to figure out what you did wrong? What you could’ve done differently to make her stay?”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
“Were you the one,” I continue, my voice dropping dangerously low, “who got fucking punished for loving someone? Who gave everything and got nothing but silence in return?”
“I didn’t have a choice!” Tears spill down her cheeks.
“Everyone has a choice, Summer. You just chose to run.”
She throws her notebook to the ground. “You stole my choice! Don’t you get it? Before you opened your big mouth, I’d made my choice. I was going to leave my way.” She smacks her chest. “You took that away from me before I was ready! You promised, Chase. You promised me you wouldn’t!”
“BECAUSE I FUCKING LOVED YOU!” The words rip out of me. “Seeing you hurt ruined me! Loving you ruined me!”
The waves crash and the wind howls, but we’re silent.
Above us, the sky turns a gloomy navy blue as the clouds grow angry.
She stands there, arms slack, chest heaving. Her eyes are glassy and her hair is wild, and I’ve never seen anything more authentic and perfect and it kills me, because she’s my damnation. And my salvation.
“Well, I guess Rachel made it all better.” Her words crack like thunder, stirring something deep and primal inside me.
“Excuse me?”
She lifts her chin. “You heard me.”
My jaw tightens. “Careful, Hayes. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? Could’ve fooled me with the show you two put on at the café.”
Shit. She saw us?
“That wasn’t—” I turn my head. I don’t have to explain anything to her, but her accusation infuriates me. I can’t fucking look at her. “What it looked like.” How do I even begin to describe it?
“She’s not your girlfriend?” she presses.
“No.”
Summer gnashes her teeth together and averts her gaze.
“Jesus Christ, Hayes. What do you want from me? Huh?” She finally looks at me. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I—” she stutters.
“You don’t get it,” I interject. “I’m supposed to hate you. I’m supposed to not think about you. I’m supposed to not give a shit.”
“But?” she asks, a speck of rain landing on the tip of her nose.
I heave out a breath, shoulders sagging. “But all I want to do right now is remove the giant stick from your ass and fuck you.”
Her eyes pop wide. “I do not have a stick up my butt.”
Now it’s my turn to scoff.
“What?” She frowns.
“That’s what you took away from everything I just said?”
She looks away. “I hate you,” she whispers.
“I hate you too.”
She turns back to me, her face determined. “I hate that you broke your promise.”
“I hate that you left.”
“I hate that you’re smoking now.”
“I hate that you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Her breath hitches.
Fuck this. “I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you. I hate that Rachel means nothing. She never even scratched the surface of me. None of them did. Only you.”
“What does that even mean?” she croaks.
The heavens open. Her dress clings to her like a second skin. Her hair is drenched, strands stick to her neck, and her eyes glisten.
I rub both hands down my face. “You’re killing me.”
“Then leave!”
I throw an arm out wide. “My heart won’t give you up, Hayes! Can’t you see? Is it not obvious? You haunt me!”
Her blue eyes search mine as I step forward.
She doesn’t flinch or shrink away from my advance, so I decide to take a chance, cupping her face between my hands.
“Chase …” My name is barely a whisper on her lips.
A growl erupts from my chest as I slam my mouth onto hers.
She freezes for a second before I feel her shoulders relax. Her delicate fingers wrap around my neck, anchoring herself to me.
The kiss isn’t gentle. It’s hard and punishing and full of words I left trapped in my throat. It’s ten years of pent-up rage and hurt and ache and anger.
We come together like the tide and the shore behind us. She gasps into my mouth and I swallow the sound. I slide a hand through her wet hair while the other lowers to grip her hip and tug her closer.
The moment her hips meet mine, she makes a sound—half sob, half moan—and it undoes me.
The rain pours around us, and it feels like a baptism. I tilt her head back, deepening the kiss, pouring every unspoken word into it.
Her lips part, inviting me in, and the first brush of her tongue against mine sends a shock straight to my dick.
She tastes like mint and sugar and fucking sunshine.
She grabs at the nape of my neck.
I pull back to break the kiss. We stand there, staring at each other, panting. I eye her notebook on the wet sand and bend to grab it. Then, I hook my hands under her thighs and haul her up. She automatically winds her legs around my middle; her arms looped around my shoulders.
“What are you—”
“Car.” It’s the only explanation I offer as I carry us both toward my truck.
“What about your board? Your stuff?”
“Don’t care.” I open the back seat and deposit her before climbing in after her and slamming the door shut.
“Chase.” It’s a breathy, whiny sound. Needy.
Rain hammers against the truck roof and the windows are already starting to fog. She’s sprawled across the back seat. I hover over her, one hand braced against the seat, the other still clutching her notebook. I drop it to the floor.
“We should talk,” she whispers.
“Probably,” I say, reaching for the hem of her dress. I slide my hands underneath.
“There’s so much we need to—”
“I know.” My hands continue their ascent.
Her eyes fall to my mouth. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
“I … what do you want?”
“I want you. So much. I want to experience you. Physically and intellectually and emotionally and spiritually. All of you. All your parts. I want every piece of you to hold, take care of, and cherish. Everything.”
She looks at me, awestruck.
“What if we regret it?” she whispers.
“Then tell me to stop.”
She doesn’t.
I drag my thumb across her full bottom lip. “Say the word and I’ll drive you home.”
She shivers. “Don’t drive me home.”