Chapter Forty #2
The cloud of Chase’s ominous gaze lingers in every corner, across every surface, until it hangs threateningly over me.
My arm brushes his when I slip past him, rubbing away the goosebumps that tingle across my skin when I step into the kitchen.
It isn’t cold, and I would much prefer a glass of orange juice, but I find myself reaching for the kettle at the stove instead, hoping that a peppermint tea will settle my nausea.
I’m holding the kettle beneath the faucet when Chase says, “Pack a bag, Laik.”
I scoff, feel a scowl overtake my face, and I’m shaking my head, sticking my tongue to the inside of my cheek to stop myself from blasting off at him.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
I shut the water off and return the kettle to the stove with a thunk, choosing instead to ignore him. I give him—his demand, his entire presence—zero attention.
It’s only when my hand starts to twist the dial at the stove, that I feel a solid wall of muscle trap me from behind.
Chase’s chest is almost pressed against my back when his fingers envelop mine.
He’s so close.
I can feel the vibrations of his heart beating between my shoulder blades.
My spine stiffens, my pulse hiccupping, linking across to his, and I hate that. I hate it so much.
Chase lowers his voice, his breath soft across my neck and perhaps it should make me weak, perhaps that’s why he did it, but he’d underestimated me.
“Pack. A. Bag.”
I spin around in a blur, brace my hands against the countertop, feeling the swell of my breasts pushing against his core. Chase draws back a sharp breath at the same time I raise my chin in defiance. I keep my gaze down for a moment longer, then flick my eyes on him.
His darken instantly.
My chest draws heavy and I give myself a moment, trying not to trip over the beat of my own heart.
“No,” I counter, bluntly and matter-of-factly.
Chase sucks on his front teeth, looks over the top of me.
He shakes his head, takes a step back, and I think he might take his leave until he says, “Suit yourself then.”
He careens around the corner, stepping into my small room, snatching up the cotton tote bag I had slung over the door handle, and rifling through the set of drawers that sit in the corner before I register what he’s doing.
And I follow after him, latch onto his bicep, try my best to pull him away.
“Get out of my shit—”
But he stops rifling. Actually, he completely freezes, and I know he’s found it.
I watch my hand slip. Crossing my arms over my chest, I let the wall catch me. Chase doesn’t look at me, in fact, he closes his eyes and exhales so loudly I feel it hit my chest.
My cheeks heat at that, a cool sweat sweeping across the back of my neck.
His movements play in slow motion now. He opens his eyes, reaches back inside and with a trembling hand drags out the gun. He rests it at the lip of the drawer, then takes another breath.
“What the fuck…” He pauses to exhale. “Are you doing w-with this?” he stutters.
I scoff, stick my tongue against my cheek and look away.
“Dammit, Laiken!” He slams the drawer shut, and I flinch when a photo frame of me and Jade falls to the carpet, cracking the glass.
“Look at me,” he says.
I don’t. I look at the pieces of me and his sister shattered at his feet.
“What the fuck are you doing with a gun?” he repeats. “And where the fuck did you get it?”
His words are spoken with such vehemence I can’t help but shiver.
I bite into my bottom lip when it wobbles, but I find the strength to step away from the wall. I flick my eyes back to his. “Are you for fucking real?”
Chase edges closer to me, darkness in his eyes.
I stand taller, shake my head, avert my eyes from his again, and stare at the lilac wall across the room.
Silence is thick between us, suffocating, and I cut my gaze back in his direction, closing the gap between us. I only stop when the tips of our shoes touch.
Then, I reach out, wrap my shaky hand around his, around the gun.
I try to tug it away. He doesn’t let me.
His thumb locks over mine, it’s trembling too.
We stay coiled together when I ask him, “Did you forget that you left me and I had no choice but to protect myself?” I spit my words in his face, watching the tendons at his neck strain, his jaw clench. “You. Fucking. Did. This.”
When he says nothing, I allow room for levity. I laugh, because If I don’t, I’ll cry.
I lick my dry lips, push a little closer.
I’m shaking uncontrollably, barely keeping myself together.
“You’re selfish. And you’re disgusting. And you lost the privilege of being close to me a long time ago,” I whisper, pausing the moment he tightens his grip around my thumb.
“Don’t you ever…” My voice rises, then I swallow the lump in my throat. “Ever…question me again.”
Chase’s eyes stay locked with mine for a moment longer, then he lets them drive over me. His tongue pushes over his top teeth when he leans in just enough to make the air between us choke.
“You done?” he asks, and any response I could have articulated before, freezes behind my teeth.
My heart lifts, rising to a cracking kick-drum in my ears, and my vision tilts, bursts of red stars blinking in the corners.
I wasn’t done. I wanted to repeat myself, maybe scream at him, only, as my limbs continue to tremble and my teeth chatter louder, my chest rising and falling at a pace that terrifies me, I realize I’m too bone-tired to move, to speak, to try and make him understand.
So I scoff, take my gaze away, and gnaw on the inside of my cheek instead.
But then I feel his rough fingers shift around mine. Chase isn’t gentle when he unhooks my hand from over the top of his, throwing it away. I turn back at the same time he tucks the pistol into the rear of his jeans, his eyes reaching, holding, never leaving mine.
It only chills me further.
“Pack your shit,” he rasps, then he’s out of the room and I’m staring at his back before I hear the front door crack against the trailer and the engine of his truck kick to life.