Chapter Fifty-Three
I’m staring at the earthy tones of mingled creams and dusty grays that pave a herringbone pattern up Nan’s driveway when Chase cuts the engine to his truck.
The silence that follows feels like an invasion.
The two of us had always had a lot to say to each other, but today, we’d somehow mastered the act of crippling restraint.
And I refused to be the one to break.
Chase’s wrist is hung over the steering wheel, his thumb and forefinger at his bottom lip, pinching the center. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “So, are we gonna talk about yesterday?”
I reach for my bag that’s squashed between my feet. “What’s there to talk about?” I ask with a shrug, hiking the stuffed cotton onto my lap. I turn to look at him. “Take my shit or leave it behind…I honestly don’t care.”
A punctured sound leaves Chase’s throat, as he shakes his head. His chin is pressed to his chest, but then his dark eyes flash to mine.
“That it?” He pushes back into the seat, turning toward me, spreading his legs. “We aren’t gonna talk about…any of it? Your lyrics, what I asked you to do, how you left…ran?”
My jaw stiffens. I don’t trust myself to speak. So, I nod, pretending that what happened between us, the vulnerability we had shared, was no big deal; that it meant nothing to me even though it meant everything.
That was until I needed air, until I waited outside for him, hoping and praying that maybe this time he would come after me. But when he let me leave in such a fragile state, I was reminded of who Chase was, what he could—and had—done to me, and how good he was at hurting me.
My mother had once told me to never befriend expectations. That they would ruin all and every relationship. Platonic and romantic. I hated that years later I hadn’t learned that lesson, that even after what Chase had done to me, I expected more from him.
Expectation had become my friend, and I wasn’t proud of that.
I turn toward the door. My fingers quivering at the handle.
“Laiken?”
Chase’s voice curls around each vertebra of my spine, and what blood is in my veins simmers against my skin. I squeeze my eyes closed, find a way to swallow the heartbeat in my throat.
He starts, “You’ve never been one to bite your tongue, why are you—”
I open the door to stop myself from choking. “You let me go, Chase…ag—”
“Again,” we say at the exact same time.
I snap around, catching the dark eyes of my best friend’s brother.
The thunderous look in them tells me nothing. I can’t see sorrow, or regret. I can’t see anything, and that disappoints me, because the expectations I shouldn’t have were still there.
I wet my lips, biting into the bottom one when it trembles.
“What happened to ‘you will survive this. I’ll make sure you do.’” I shove a rogue lock of hair behind my ear.
“You asked to hear it, and even though I didn’t want to, I gave it to you.
I trusted you. Is my pain that…ugly?” I pause.
I let go of my breath. I swallow. I tremble harder than I ever have, and my voice is barely a whisper.
“I may have ran, Chase, but you never came for me, when I needed you to, ag—”
“Again,” we say it again, at the exact same time.
And when Chase sniffs, dips his head and says nothing, I breathe, “I’m done, Chase. My pain…it’s never been safe with you.”
Chase shifts toward the ignition, jerking out the keys and popping open the door.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice breaking.
He mumbles something beneath his breath, and before I can give myself a moment to decipher it, he’s slamming the door shut, rounding the corner and making his way up the driveway, wrapping his arms around my grandmother.
I swallow, watching them through the side window.
He was only supposed to drop me off.
He wasn’t supposed to stay.
He was supposed to let me go.
He was supposed to drive away.
Because that…is exactly what I’d come to expect of him.
Because Chase…didn’t chase.
“What can I get you, Chase?” Nan asks, peering into the cupboard. “I’ve got herbal tea, coffee, hot chocolate, juice, water…” She pops out of the opening, straightening her groaning limbs, turning toward him and now offering, “Lemonade?”
She’s got two delicate floral mugs looped at her fingers, one for me, the other for her. She fumbles the chai tea bags, unpicking each string before dropping them in, and adding a teaspoon of local honey to each. Chase jerks his chin toward them, “I’ll take the same, thanks.”
Nan curls back over, bending at the waist, pulling out a third mug from the cupboard.
This one is shaped like a bubble with yellow and orange stripes.
She places it on the bench with a small clunk, dropping in another tea bag and filling each with piping hot water from the whistling kettle beside her.
I keep my head down. I don’t look in Chase’s direction.
Nan places the cup in front of me, and the other in front of Chase.
She’s settling into the seat beside him when I take my first sip, hearing her say, “Thanks for taking care of Laiken these past couple of days, Chase. She has really needed you…”
I reach toward her, placing my hand over hers and squeezing it lightly. She pauses. Recognition flickers in her matching green eyes and she swallows, nodding stiffly.
Chase clears his throat, catching onto the exchange the way I knew he would.
Silence swells, until I look at him.
Until he knows he has my full attention.
He wets his lips, his eyes pinned on mine. “I needed her, too,” he admits, his deep brown eyes dropping to my lips and back again.
It felt like Chase had reached into my chest and twisted my heart. I allow a minute to pass, mostly to catch my breath, then I screech the chair back, standing to my feet. My bones rattle, threatening to crumble.
Chase doesn’t move from the chair although his eyes rise to meet mine.
“You okay, sweetie?” Nan asks, concern is a distorted picture across her lined face.
I close my hand around hers, forcing a smile to my lips. “Yeah, I just need to use the bathroom.” I squeeze her palm again, then start toward the door, feeling the small room rush in on me.
But instead of taking the hall, I push through the front door, walking toward the porch swing that rocks with a gentle breeze.
It creaks when I fall into it, curling myself around my knees, frustrated that he's here, that he couldn’t just leave. But I knew what I was feeling was all bullshit. I’d wanted him here for years.
It was what he said that angered me, along with the hold he still had on me.
It takes ten minutes to settle the tension inside my chest, to catch my breath, to walk back inside. And when I do, I see Chase standing beside the sink, dish towel in hand, polishing the mug Nan had just finished washing.
I reach across the table, draining the cold liquid from the mug I’d left behind and place it down with a thunk.
Nan spins at the sound, at the same time Chase rests his weight against the bench, throwing down the towel at his side. He curls his large veiny hands around the cream Formica top, then he jerks his stubbled chin at me.
His tongue touches his top teeth. “You good, Laik?”
His question holds a challenge, an opportunity to explode, and I do my best not to shiver in its wake.
“Better,” I retort, and he nods.
Chase reaches for the towel and dries his hands, and I try not to watch the way his biceps flex with the movement, his veins popping in his forearms.
He says, “I was just telling Nan that I’m going to take you home, make sure your place is all good…safe, you know?”
I cross my arms at my chest, fury bubbling up like a volcano. “Is that right?”
If Nan picks up on anything, she doesn’t show it, instead polishing away the droplets that have landed at the edge of the sink, avoiding the dreaded water stains that I know drive her batty.
I take my eyes from Chase, settle them on Nan. “I’m going to head back to work tomorrow.”
Nan doesn’t gasp outwardly, but I see it flinch through her. She steps toward me. “Are you sure you don’t need a little more time, sweetie?”
I’d already started shaking my head. “From what?” I ask, my shoulders falling with a shrug, feeling unwanted tears rising to the rim of my eyes. “I’ve seen it all now, Nan.”
Chase coughs, and when I take my eyes back to him, I watch something cold, something terrifying settle across his face.
He drops his eyes to Nan, allowing a little warmth in, only if not to scare her. “I’ll take her to and from.”
“Bullshit—” I start, just as Nan claps, defusing my anger.
“Laiken, you will accept Chase’s…”
I scoff, but Nan ignores it, turning to Chase instead. “And you, you will make sure my granddaughter is safe,” she says with defeat.
Chase’s eyes are on me, and when he tries to speak I cut him off with a laugh I don’t recognize. It pushes through my teeth like tiny razor blades.
“Like he did three years ago, Nan.” I pause for impact, and Chase’s jaw clenches.
I don’t have to look hard to know he’s grinding his teeth.
A small vein pulses at his temple. “When he fucking stabbed me…” I press my hand to my chest. “And left you to deal with me bleeding out.” I shove away the tear that falls down my cheek.
“He’s not who you think he is. He…keeps proving that. ”
My voice comes out cold.
Empty.
And even though I’d stupidly given him another piece of me yesterday, at my core, I despised him. I always would.
I’d never forget that Chase Keller had severed me at the vein.
Laiken storms out of the house, intentionally slamming the door behind her.
Nanna June flinches, and moves away from me.
Her knobby, frail fingers are curled around the top of the fabric chair. She tries pulling it back with no success. So, I reach for it, helping her settle in, then I take to the chair at my side, dragging it up, and resting my elbows on my knees.
She raises her eyes, the same glossy green as Laiken’s, glistening back at me.
I wanted to follow Laiken, but I knew I owed it to Nan to answer her questions first.
“What happened between you kids?”
I chew on my fist, keep my eyes on Nan’s. Today, there were no more seats for vacant, empty lies.
“I did some pretty bad things, Nan. Some pretty terrible things; I needed to protect her from who I’d become.”
I know my words render her speechless, especially when she starts to shake. “We’ve all done terrible things, Chase.”
“Not like this,” I counter.
Silence settles, then lifts.
I reach out to wrap my fingers around hers, only for her to take mine instead.
“You might think you know what is best for my granddaughter.” She pauses, her small, soft voice cracking. “But I was the one that heard the cries…I was the one that listened to them.”
I bite into my bottom lip, deciding to test my luck. “What did they tell you?”
Her hands do their best to squeeze mine, though her grip is weak.
“It’s you, Chase Keller, you are what she needs.” She lifts my hands, brings them to her mouth and plants a timid kiss on them. “It has always been you,” she repeats in a whisper, placing her palm to the top, sealing the gift of her words, the truth, between us. “Take care of her, would you?”
Her hands tremble harder when she lets me go.