Chapter 5 Erin
“It’s nice to meet you, Bookworm.”
The nickname sticks to me, carrying all the comfort of a weighted blanket I didn’t know I needed. I don’t know why it feels…special. No one’s ever given me a nickname before. Not in that way. Not for the purpose of affection and…to tease. But I want to hear it again.
I release my lip from between my teeth and lift my head to look at him again, the flare-up on my skin cooling. His ocean-blue eyes smile at me as he waits.
“You too.”
The look he shoots me should be illegal. It makes my belly swirl with giddiness, but for a different reason now.
Maybe it’s the unwavering way Chase looks at me, with no expectations he’s holding me to. He’s not pushing. Not trying to make me talk. Just…waiting. And suddenly, the idea of being here with him doesn’t seem dangerous. It feels…safe.
I pick up the menu with the hope that reading will distract me from what’s going on in my body.
What’s that saying—if you ignore it, it’ll go away?
Twenty minutes later, loaded buffalo fries are dropped in front of me. My nerves seem to disappear as I listen to the easy conversation between the four of us.
Listening to Brodie talk passionately about the club he wants to open and seeing the way Bella stares at him in awe, has me humming with happiness.
“You’ll come visit us in California once we’re settled, right?” Brodie asks after finishing off his drink. “Both of you,” he adds, looking over at Chase.
“Yeah, man, of course,” Chase says. “And as your best friend, I expect free entry and drinks for life when the club opens.”
Brodie chuckles. “Done.” And then he looks over to me. “I know clubs aren’t your scene, but there will always be free Shirley Temples for life for you as well, Little Silver.”
I scoff at the nickname. “Thanks. What made you want to open your own club?” I ask, putting my hand into the basket of fries only to find that it’s empty. My lips push into a pout, and Chase nudges his basket across the table and shoots me a wink.
“My dad’s always had the distillery. It was passed down to him by my maternal grandfather,” Brodie says.
“I visited it all the time when I was younger. The whole thing fascinated me, and of course, it got a little more exciting when I was allowed to taste it.” Brodie grins.
“I knew I wanted to be part of Emerson’s Barrel & Sons, but lately, I’ve been thinking about changing things up.
Make things a little more intimate,” he says as he looks at us all.
“I don’t want to just open a club. I want to have a place where we can showcase the whiskey, but also have it be an experience.
A secret society where people can enjoy live music, quality drinks, and be part of an organization that’s…
exclusive. I want our club to be an escape from reality. ”
“It’s going to be world changing,” Bella says, clapping her hands.
“I’m proud of you, man,” Chase adds.
“Do you know what you want to call it?” I ask.
“So far, I’m stuck on Hidden Access. I’m still unsure. My nephew, Roman, said he’d help me brainstorm, but everything he’s come up with has the word ’palooza’ in it.” Brodie chuckles, and we laugh with him.
His hand stretches out in front of him, reaching for the black card wedged between the napkins and cutlery. He slides it free and showcases it to us. A photo of a man holding up a bottle of whiskey is stamped in the middle. At the top, a golden sticker catches the light.
NOW SERVING — EMERSON’S BARREL & SONS WHISKEY.
I notice the man’s eyes are the same shade as the liquor in his hand. They’re so different from Brodie’s but the resemblance is there.
“The old man’s tinkering in the kitchen again, trying to nail some new flavors. Sebastian’s nothing if not persistent.”
Bella glances in the direction of the bar. “I’ll be right back,” she says as she hops off her stool. “Bathroom break.”
Just as Bella heads across the bar, Brodie’s phone begins to ring. He excuses himself to answer it, leaving Chase and I alone together.
He’s just a guy.
I can do this.
I can have a conversation.
I am not my mother.
“So, your sister and my best friend, huh?” Chase says, stealing me away from my inner thoughts.
“I guess so,” I reply. “How long have you and Brodie known each other?” I ask. The look he gives me shows me he’s surprised I’m talking to him.
Yeah. Me too, Hockey Boy.
I appreciate that he doesn’t tease me about it.
“Since I was four. He was new to the neighborhood. My childhood home is right next to a big public park. The year he moved here, it was covered in the most snow I’ve ever seen. That year we built Raphael.”
“Raphael?” I ask, and he shoots me a grin.
“I was obsessed with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.”
My lips twitch as I try to imagine this six-foot-four giant of a man as a tiny four-year-old obsessed with Ninja Turtles.
“We built a kick-ass snowman, then went home for lunch only to come back an hour later and find Raphael brutally violated.”
“Someone kicked him down?”
“Worse. Carrot nose—stolen. Button eyes—gone. The signature red mask—nowhere to be found,” Chase deadpans.
“Hooligans.”
Damn it. Why do I keep smiling?
“Singular. It was only one hooligan—Brodie Emerson. My older brothers declared war and gave Brodie’s snowman boobs.”
I snort. “How do you do that with snow?”
Chase shrugs.
“I’m assuming he retaliated?”
“The little shit decapitated poor Raphael with my hockey stick.”
“Ouch.”
“The next time I saw him,” Chase continues. “I showed no mercy. Pelted him with snowballs. I spent two hours crafting and hiding them all over the park. He found some of my stash. There was an epic snowball battle to the death. We’ve been best friends ever since.”
“That is pretty adorable,” I say, picturing the two of them laughing and screaming with joy as snow flies everywhere.
“Jack was too sick to come out and play that year, but when he kicked the flu, I introduced him to Brodie, and they clicked. It’s been us three against the world.”
I hold on to those four familiar words—us against the world—the same ones Bella uses with me so often. They wrap around me, creating a cocoon that offers me a quiet moment of solace.
Chase’s longstanding friendship with Brodie makes me think about my childhood. I had friends from school in Crescent Creek Lake, but they never invited me over to their houses for sleepovers or parties, and my mother never let them come over when I asked.
The school I attended when I lived with Roger and Griff in Charlotte was its own experience.
I spent most of my time in the library rather than on the playground, too scared to be around people in case they asked questions.
Roger always told me not to breathe a word to anyone about what it was like living with him.
Heat covers my hand, centering me. I flinch the second I realize it’s Chase’s hand on top of mine and pull away, as if his touch is scalding stone just pulled out of a furnace.
“Sorry,” he says, his voice taking on a grounding tone that draws me in, despite wanting distance. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just stopped responding all of a sudden. Are you okay?”
“Sometimes, I just, um…zone out,” I say, hoping he won’t push. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
“I’ll work on my content.” He chuckles. “So, Erin, tell me about yourself.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, Bookworm, you.”
Why does that name make my insides glow?
“I, um…I work for Wishes and Bones Publishing House,” I say, thinking that talking about work is a safer topic than others.
“Wow. That’s one of the biggest publishing houses in the city. Impressive.”
“Says the NHL hockey player.”
His eyes are laced with gratitude, yet he remains humble, keeping his attention focused on my job. “Do you enjoy working there?”
“I did. Now, not so much.”
“How come?” he asks.
Dropping my gaze, I stare at his leftover fries that now look a little soggy. “There was an incident with a co-worker last month. He got a little physical and…”
“He hurt you?” Chase’s voice is even-tempered but hard, a storm barely held back.
I shake my head. “I managed to break free with a quick knee to the crotch. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I just needed him off me. I ran when he was on the ground, pulled the fire alarm, and found a place to hide until help came.”
“Good girl.”
His praise hits me with the softness of a gentle embrace, acting as two solid arms that wrap around me, offering comfort. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just understanding and quiet depth that makes me feel seen.
“It was my—”
“Don’t.” He leans forward, cutting me off, but doesn’t reach for me. “Don’t blame yourself for what that asshole did. His mistakes are not yours, Bookworm.”
His kindness is a whirlwind of emotions I can’t contain.
“Thank you.”
“Does he still work there?” Chase asks.
“Wess was suspended with pay. Whether or not he’s let go depends on the outcome of the investigation.
My boss offered me paid time off for three months at the start of June just to take some time for myself because of what happened,” I explain.
“But I don’t want to go back. I’ve been looking for other jobs and have an interview next Friday.
If I don’t find an alternative, Angela expects me to be back in September. ”
“You’ll find the right thing. I’m sure of it.”
“So, Jack played for your team?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from me.
“Yeah, he did,” Chase says, nostalgia creeping into his tone. “My dad and Jack’s dad went to college together. They were best friends and never left Huxley Bay. Jack and I were the same. We pretty much spent our entire lives together.”
For a moment, a flicker of sadness crosses his eyes, but it’s gone as quick as it comes.
“He was…a brother, ”Chase says, his voice thick with emotion. “His absence is a pain I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. But I’m trying.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I’ve heard people talking about him all night and they’ve had nothing but great things to say about Jack. He sounds really special.”
His head bows for a moment, and I’m worried that I’ve upset him, but then he looks up at me and his expression lightens.
“He was. Thank you.”
And then his phone buzzes on the table. A couple minutes later, mine does as well. I reach for it, unlocking it with my passcode.
Bella: How’s it going with the hockey boy?
Me: Are you still in line for the bathroom?
Bella: Honey, I’ve already been to the bathroom. Congratulations, baby sister, you’ve been talking to Chase for a half hour. Giving you a virtual high five.
I glance at the top of my screen and look at the time.
She’s right.
I hadn’t noticed. I’m never out this late. Even when I’m with Bella, I start to want to go home around nine so I can curl up with a book.
I scan the bar for my sister.
I know she wouldn’t leave me here alone, but I don’t see her. I look down at my phone when it buzzes in my hand again.
Bella: The bar is closing at midnight. Brodie carpooled with Chase, who has kindly agreed to give us a ride home rather than taking a cab.
Is that why his phone went off?
My thumbs move across the screen.
Me: Why do I sense a but coming…
Bella: Brodie asked me to spend the night with him.
Me: Do you not want to?
Bella: No, I do. Brodie’s place is before yours. So, you’ll be alone with Chase for a while after he’s dropped us off.
Me: Oh.
Bella: Brodie said you can stay in his guest room if you want.
Me: Tell him thanks, but I don’t need to hear you guys going at it. It’ll be fine. It’s just a car ride.
Bella: Are you sure?
Me: Positive.
“Everything okay?” Chase asks in an odd tone. It’s almost as if he’s been privy to the text messages that have been exchanged between my sister and me.
When I look up at him, I take in his face. There’s nothing smug or cocky about the way he’s looking at me. He appears sincere, as if giving me a ride home is nothing more than making sure I get home safely. There’s no agenda or catch.
He pockets his phone just as Brodie and Bella emerge from the shadows at the back of the bar.
“Yeah, everything’s fine,” I say before Bella and Brodie reach the table.
“Everyone ready to go?” Bella asks.
We walk out of the bar and down the street, passing closed stores until we reach the spot where Chase’s black truck is parked by the curb. It’s dark, but the streetlights illuminate the way perfectly. There’s not a single person around.
It’s peaceful.
Chase’s Range Rover beeps as we get to it, the headlights flashing brightly. Brodie and Bella waste no time getting into the back. Chase moves for the passenger side, opening the door for me.
I let out a breath and hop inside. He pauses, eyes fixed on me for a second before he closes the door and rounds the truck to get to the driver’s side. Once he’s in, he cranks the engine and the car roars to life.
I buckle myself in as Chase throws his arm over my headrest. A current rushes through me. The pull of his closeness lingers in the air as I stare into his eyes just before he backs up and pulls out of the spot.
It takes me a minute before I turn my head straight, hoping the darkness of the night hides the heat crawling up my neck.
The butterflies in my stomach dance to the hum of the car’s engine as we move through the quiet streets. I can’t seem to focus on anything but his woodland scent filling the small space as a new, unexpected hope blossoms.
Brodie’s place better be far, far away from mine.