33. Chase
THIRTY-THREE
CHASE
It’s Sunday morning and I’m driving back to Nashville for both my appointment with Doc and then Nar-Anon group this evening. This weekend has been eye-opening, to say the least. Marissa stayed all weekend and now I’m following her back to her place. She was pissed when I came home on Friday night, but not pissed enough to leave, and even though I know that I need to end things, I was too much of a pussy to do it right then. Instead, I let her order furniture for my house.
I spent the whole time feeling awkward as fuck because she kept trying to get me into bed and I…couldn’t. I’ve been trying to feel a sliver of the way I do for Goldi, but for Marissa instead, and it hasn’t happened.
Marissa’s a good woman. She’s just not the woman for me.
Now, I just have to figure out the best way to tell her.
Courage to change the things I can. I repeat the serenity prayer before parking behind her and following her into her house.
I’m surprised she’s been dropping hints about moving to Sugarlake when she has such a nice setup here. My stomach rolls when I think of how invested she must be in our relationship to feel that way.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Marissa walks to the fridge.
I lean against her kitchen island. “Can we talk for a sec?”
Her hand pauses midair and she spins to face me. “Talk about what?”
“About what we’re doing here. With this. With us.”
“With us ?” She frowns. “I thought we were doing kind of good in that department, so I’m not sure what we need to talk about.”
“Do you really feel that way? You can honestly stand there and tell me you’re one-hundred-percent happy with how things are?”
“Yes. We’re very compatible.” Her voice deepens.
Damn. She’s not gonna make this easy. Blowing out a breath, I run a hand over my face and pin her with a heavy stare. “The past few years have been good. You’ve been a great friend, and yeah, the sex is…”
“Awesome,” she finishes. She closes the fridge and then moves around the island until she’s directly in front of me. “So why do I get the feeling you’re trying to ruin it?”
My chest pulls, because I don’t want to hurt her. “You deserve better than me.”
She scoffs. “I don’t want better.”
“I want better for you,” I argue.
“I’m a big girl, Chase. I can decide for myself what and who I want.”
My throat’s tight, anxiety threatening to choke me. I don’t want another woman’s hurt on my conscience, but she’s not getting the picture. “Marissa, be serious. You’re pushing me for things I’ve told you time and time again I’m not ready to give.”
“You are giving me what I need.” She rests her hand on my chest. “I know you feel what’s between us, Chase.”
My jaw clenches to keep the harsh truth from spilling out. I don’t feel it. Maybe in another life—if Goldi didn’t exist—then the comfortable warmth Marissa provides would be enough.
But it’s hard to appreciate warmth when you’ve been consumed by fire.
I grab her hand and move it off my chest. “I care about you, but you deserve someone who’s able to give you everything. That man’s not me.”
“That man’s not you.” She repeats my words, her eyes shuttering. “Is this about that girl?”
My heart pounds. Fuck. “What girl?”
“That Leah girl you ditched me for this weekend.”
“Alina.” My response is automatic. I cringe, knowing I just made things worse.
She laughs, backing up a step. “Unbelievable. I tried to look past it when you left for hours and then didn’t want to touch me. I forgave you when you came home at one in the morning, after spending time with someone who gave you a look on your face that you’ve never given me.”
It’s a struggle not to show the guilt on my features. She really knows how to paint the picture of an asshole.
Marissa’s head tilts. “Did you fuck her?”
“No.” But I wanted to.
She crosses her arms. “I don’t believe you.”
“I may be an asshole, but I’m not a cheat…and this isn’t about her. It’s about me not being able to give you what you want.”
“All I want is you!” Her hands smack the marble of the island.
I blow out a breath. “I’m trying not to hurt you.”
“Well, you’re doing a shit job.”
Groaning, I tug on the roots of my hair and then stare at her. “What do you want me to do, Marissa? Continue to play house with you? Let you uproot your life and move in with me when I know damn well I won’t ever love you?”
She freezes in place. Shit. I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. Her eyes become glossy and she stiffens her shoulders. “Get out.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. But you’ll see this is what’s best in the long run.”
“Get. Out!” she screams. She takes off her shoe and throws it, narrowly missing me as it crashes against the door.
Jesus.
It’s clear she doesn’t want to hear any more, so I leave. I hope in time she realizes this is what needed to happen, and even though it was difficult, I’m not sad over the end of our relationship.
All I can feel is relief.
I head straight to my therapy appointment with Doc, pulling him in for a hug he doesn’t return. Stingy fucker. “Damn, Doc. It’s good to see you.” I move back, grinning at him before making myself comfortable on his sleek, black couch.
“Chase. How are you?” He sits in the brown leather chair across from me.
“Good, real good.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.
“You seem to be in good spirits.”
I can’t help the smile that overtakes my face. “You’ll never guess who works at the job site I’m on.”
He raises a heavy brow.
“Goldi.”
“Hmm. And how is that?”
“It’s…amazing. And frustrating. And torturous.” I pause, looking up. “You’re married, right, Doc?”
He nods.
“Do you love your wife?”
“Very much.”
“Can you imagine being around her and knowing she hates you? What it would feel like to not be able to touch her…to kiss her?”
He’s silent.
“I know you won’t actually answer that. It’s a rhetorical question, I guess. But I forgot what it felt like, you know? I can’t fucking breathe with how bad I want to touch her. Make her smile.” I shake my head.
“Is that something that’s on the table? Something you think she’d allow?” he questions.
My heart sinks. “Nah. But we’re kind of, sort of…friends now, I guess? I don’t know if you can really call it that. There are some things she’s going through and I just—I see the same haunted look in her eyes I’ve spent my life trying to hide. I want to be there for her.”
“Does she allow you to be there the way you want?”
“Sometimes.” I shrug.
He writes on his notepad.
“I broke up with Marissa,” I blurt.
His pen pauses as he looks at me from over his tortoiseshell glasses. “Oh?”
“We should never have been anything more than friends. She wanted so much from me, and I didn’t want to give it to her. I never even told her I was adopted, or that I have a sister. How could I make a life with her?”
“You never spoke of your past with Marissa?” Doc sounds surprised.
I lift a shoulder. “Marissa isn’t the type of person I’d want to share stories with. That’s why she was great, though, you know? She never pushed to know about my past. It was purely physical, and that’s how I liked it.” I frown. “At least at first.”
“Hmm…let’s change course for a moment. Is being back in Sugarlake bringing up any feelings for your sister?”
Ice races through my veins and my mouth clamps shut. Talking about Lily is hard for me, even after so many years. The cuts from her abandonment run deep.
I miss her, and I’m extremely fucking pissed at her.
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Then I hope you’ll consider writing about it.”
Journal Entry #327
Being back home makes sleep harder to come by. Lily surges forward in my dreams, choking me with her memory. But I’ve accepted the reality there’s nothing I could have done to save her from herself. People are in charge of their own happiness. It’s unfair to put that responsibility on others.
But it doesn’t stop the nightmares.
Some days I wake up in a cold sweat not knowing where I am, thinking I’m back in that last foster home before we were adopted. That pudgy motherfucker who thought he could sneak into her room and nobody would notice. It replays in my subconscious whenever I’m asleep, except the dreams are different than how I remember reality. They twist and get muddled until I’m not sure what was real and what wasn’t.
She was still young. We were there for a little over a year, and she promised me nothing ever happened. But in my dreams, she’s crying, asking why I didn’t save her sooner.
Sometimes, on the really fucked-up nights, she’ll shift into a vision of my mom, telling me what a shit brother I am.
I think I hate them both for making me love them so much.
But the hatred doesn’t take away the urge to find Lily.
Maybe I didn’t pay close enough attention. I still have no fucking clue why Lily felt like she needed to resort to drugs and bad people to escape her reality. A reality she convinced everyone she was happy with for so many years. I don’t fucking know, man. Maybe I’ll never find the answers, and that’s hard for me to accept.
I hope that wherever she is, she’s safe.