26. Chase
TWENTY-SIX
CHASE
It’s Monday and the results finally came back from the lab.
Luckily, asbestos is not a problem. Thank fuck.
I’m more than ready to get the ball rolling with this project, mainly because I’m anxious to prove to the guys on my team I’m more than just a nepo baby, that I actually know what I’m doing and deserve this position.
It’s already past 4 p.m., but I tell Cory I’m planning to head over and work through the evening, anyway, because I want to catch up on lost time. He decides to join me and manages to grab a couple of other guys willing to put in some extra hours.
By the end of the night, we’ve made some nice progress, so I go tell everyone to stop at the local bar on the way back for a round, on me.
The bar’s a little outdated, dark and dingy with sticky tables, but for a group of guys who are coming off a job site, a cold beer and a burger is all we need to be happy.
We’re shooting the shit, winding down from the day when one of the younger kids on the crew, Matt, leans back and groans. “Man, there are no girls in this place. I was hopin’ I’d be able to find one and show her a good time before I head back home. Guess I’ll have to call one of my weekend ladies, see if she’s down for a Monday night special.” He wiggles his brows.
Cory chuckles. “Son, who you tryin’ to impress? No one at this table gives a damn about your made-up girlfriends. Save the imagination for later when you’re entertainin’ your hand.”
I grin into my beer. Cory is the oldest one here, around Sam’s age. There’s a good dynamic he has going with his crew. It makes me confident in my decision to uproot my life and come back to run this company.
“Oh, shit. Look at this guy.” Matt laughs, gesturing toward the bar.
My gaze follows where he’s pointing. The bartender is leaned over the bar top, jaw set and hands tensed. The man he’s talking to has his back to us, but it’s clear to see he’s smashed. He sways in place on his stool, stumbling as he moves to stand.
“I bet that dude’s in here every night embarrassin’ himself,” Matt sneers. “Why the hell do people let themselves get sloppy like that? It’s pathetic.”
My head whips in his direction, an all too familiar ache springing to life in my chest. “Shut the fuck up.”
Poking fun at a possible drinking problem is not the way to stay on my good side. I’ve seen what addictions can do—felt the judgment from people who don’t understand. I won’t sit back and let ignorant comments slide.
Raised voices bring my attention back to the altercation at the bar.
“I don’t give a shit! I’m a goddamn…I’m a payin’ customer and I’m payin’ for another… I want a damn drink, Johnny.” The man flails as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, slapping it on the bar top. His back is still toward us, but something about him pulls my stomach, jostling the contents and making me feel a little ill. He seems familiar.
The bartender throws his hands up and walks away, picking up the phone.
I scan the area, wondering if anyone else is paying attention. There are a few scattered people along the bar who spare him a glance, almost like they’re used to his outbursts. At the tables surrounding the bar, though, people are gawking. Some have their hands over their mouths, stifling laughter, mocking the man who clearly can’t handle his drink. Others watch with clear disgust and their phones out, recording every second. My temper flares.
Just like Matt, they judge him.
Profiling him as a disgrace.
An embarrassment.
Too busy on their pedestals to take a second and see the despair pouring out of him. Too good to walk a mile in his shoes.
My eyes swing back toward him as he quiets and tries to sit down. He loses his balance and falls, the smack of his body making me wince as it hits the concrete floor. Shit.
Laughter filters through the air as he lies still, sprawled out on the ground. I jump from my seat to help him because this is just sad, and it pisses me off everyone’s watching him like a sideshow. He attempts to roll over and stand but struggles to regain his balance. I’m only a few feet away when he looks up. My stomach cannonballs and my steps falter.
Mr. Carson? What the fuck?
I hurry to him and squat, reaching out my hand.
He grabs it, hoisting himself into a sitting position. When he stands, I stay close. He’s rocking in place, and I’m not sure if he’s going to fall again. Finally, he manages to sit on his barstool.
I sit next to him, exhaling heavily as I take him in. He looks haggard. His skin is pallid. Dark circles mar his eyes, and blood vessels highlight the deep frown lines taking over his face. This is not the man I once knew. Clearing my throat, I try to find my equilibrium, because seeing him here like this has thrown me completely off-balance. Maybe I should offer to take him home? He’s in no condition to be here.
“Mr. Carson?”
He grumbles, his head bobbing, nothing but an empty glass in front of him.
“Mr. Carson,” I repeat.
His head snaps up, his eyes glassy and unfocused as they settle on me. “What’s it to ya?”
“It’s Chase, you remember me? Sam’s kid.”
“I know…who you are, boy.” His words are so slurred it’s hard to understand what he’s saying.
The bartender walks over and places a glass of water down. “Craig, drink this, and for the love of God, stay calm, okay? I don’t wanna throw you out, but there’s only so much I can let slide.”
The bartender seems familiar with him. What’s Mr. Carson doing all the way out here?
“Do you need a ride, Mr. Carson? I came with a couple of guys from work, but I don’t mind leaving early.”
He ignores me, but the bartender’s eyes glance my way. “He’s got a ride. I’ve just called ’em. But if you two know each other, I’m sure he could use the company. Somethin’ to keep him occupied.” The bartender shoots me a pleading look, and I jerk my chin. I don’t mind distracting him until whoever shows up, but there’s a sinking feeling in my gut that it’s going to be Goldi.
Mr. Carson fumbles toward the water glass, lifting it up to take a sip and scoffing when it’s not the liquor he wants.
“How ya been, Mr. Carson? It’s been a long time.”
He looks at me, his frown lines deepening. “You back… You come here for my Alina?”
I force a chuckle through the sudden tightness of my throat. “No, sir. I’m pretty confident your daughter wants nothing to do with me.”
He mumbles. I’m not sure, but it sounds like he says I can have her. As if she’s his to give. Like he doesn’t want her. But that’s fucking crazy because if there’s a man who cherishes his daughter more than Mr. Carson, I’ve yet to find him.
“Daddy.”
My heart beats double time in my chest. I knew it. Of course she’s his ride.
Goldi’s voice comes closer as she repeats herself.
My gut pinches, knowing she’ll hate that I’m here for this, but it’s too late, she’s already next to him, staring at me with wide eyes.
“Chase?” she gasps.
I attempt a smile, and reach out, gripping Mr. Carson’s shoulder. “Hey, Alina. I was just keeping your old man company for a bit. Catching up.”
“Oh. Okay.” She looks back and forth between us as she chews on her lip, color flushing high on her cheeks. She puts her hand on his arm. “Daddy, come on. Let’s go home.”
He twists in his seat, smacking her away. She stumbles back.
I grasp the edge of the bar to keep myself from reacting.
“I’m not goin’ till I’m good and…till I’m ready. And I sure as hell ain’t goin’ with you. Johnny!” He slurs across the bar. “How many times do I gotta tell you I don’t need no…damn babysitter.”
“Daddy, stop it.” Her voice cracks as she reaches out again, and again he smacks her off him.
I blow out a breath and stand because they’re both out of their minds if they think I’ll stand here and watch him treat her this way. The only thing that stops me is when I peer at Goldi. Her shoulders are tight and her face is stone, mask firmly in place. I’ve seen that mask before. Hell, I’ve worn it. I know the suffocation of trying to breathe underneath.
Johnny walks up, slinging a towel over his shoulder. “Hey, Lee.”
She sighs, throwing up a half-hearted wave. “Hi, Johnny. Thanks for callin’.”
“No problem.” He pauses like he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to. “Listen, Lee… I can’t keep lettin’ this happen. It’s no good for business, and to be frank, it’s irresponsible on my part to keep servin’ someone who clearly doesn’t need the drink.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Her voice is a whisper and her eyes are glassy. I’m sure she’s trying to keep me from hearing. She turns toward her father. “Did you hear that, Daddy? You’ve gone and lost your favorite place with the way you been actin’.”
Mr. Carson doesn’t react. He’s gone from mildly coherent to passed out on the bar top. Jesus. Goldi shakes his shoulder and gets nothing more than a grunt. She peeks over, her body rigid, obviously uncomfortable with me witnessing her vulnerability.
Doesn’t she know I’m the last person who would judge her for this?
“Daddy, come on.” She shakes his shoulder again.
I make a split-second decision and lightly put my hands on her hips, ignoring the way the contact singes my fingertips as I move her to the side. I put her dad’s arm around my shoulder and hoist him up by the waist. She looks like she’s about to protest but I silence her with a look. “I’ve got him, Alina. Please, just let me help.”
She sucks in a breath, analyzing the way her father’s weight rests against my side, and then she squeezes her eyes shut and dips her head. “Yeah, okay. I’m parked right out front.”
I half walk, half carry Mr. Carson outside, and get him settled in before I close the door and turn to face her. She stands behind me, keys in her hand, chin high, her beautiful blue eyes steely like she’s preparing for a battle, and maybe she is. Whether it’s against me or her father, I don’t know.
“You good?” I ask.
“Yep.” Her jaw stiffens.
“I’m staying at Sam and Anna’s if you need anything, okay?”
She runs her fingers through her hair. “Look, we’ve been fine since you’ve been gone. Actually, since before you were gone. You can’t just show back up years later and think I’ll be waitin’ around for you to come save me. I’m not.”
“I know you’re not, but I know how hard it can be.” I gesture toward her passed-out dad in the car.
She straightens. “You don’t know anything .”
My heart turns to lead, sinking inside me at the strength of her resentment. “Fair enough.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets and watch as she rounds the car. It’s only when she’s long gone that I finally move back inside.
A few hours later I’m back home, surfing channels. There’s nothing on, but I settle on Hoarding: Buried Alive . I need something to take my mind off the ache my soul feels knowing Goldi would rather suffer in silence than accept my help. I’m about to grab a drink when there’s a knock on the door. I glance up the stairs, hoping the noise doesn’t wake Sam and Anna. Who the fuck would be here this late? I’m stunned into silence when I see who it is.
“Hey.” Goldi looks up at me through her lashes, and I swear my fucking heart skips a beat. She’s so goddamn beautiful.
“Can we talk?”