8. Chase
Chase
The grating rattle of a lawn mower jolts me awake.
I peel my eyes open, blinking to focus. My body fights to close them after finally getting a decent night’s sleep.
A band of heat warms my stomach, and I peer down to find Summer tucked into my side. She has an arm slung across my torso and a leg hitched over my hip.
She stayed. She never stays.
I take in her sleeping form. Her skin looks more sun-kissed in the morning glow. Soft and smooth. Her dark lashes rest against the tops of her cheekbones. My eyes follow the curve of her slightly parted lips.
She looks so relaxed. Calm.
Looking at how small and fragile she seems in this moment makes me wish I could capture her dreams and make them reality.
I’m half temped to brush my thumb over the faint smattering of freckles dusted across her nose and cheekbones.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night. The image of her shrinking herself while that piece of shit Zac put his hands on her. I felt murderous.
Outside, the sound cuts off for a moment before the engine revs back up again. She stirs. I hold my breath, careful not to wake her.
Her brows furrow the tiniest bit and my mouth twitches.
Then, the overwhelming urge to pee takes over.
Her leg is right against my bladder. I squint, concentrating as I shift her carefully an inch at a time, just enough for me to scoot down the mattress. She mumbles something but her eyes stay closed. Silently, I make my way to the bathroom.
After freshening up, I run my fingers through my damp hair and head back to my room, my towel low on my hips.
She kicked the comforter off her in her sleep. Other than that, she’s exactly as I left her.
I quickly change, slipping into a pair of sweatpants and a tee.
I couldn’t understand why she came to me that first night, throwing rocks at my window.
The next day at school, we passed each other in the cafeteria, trays loaded with plain sandwiches and fruit for lunch. She was headed to her table with Addie and Cody, and I was headed to mine. We shared a glance. It was only fleeting, a small hitch at the corner of our lips, but it was something.
Then the next night, she visited again. And again the night after that. We’ve never spoken about it. I haven’t brought it up because I don’t want anything to change. I like it when she comes over. She stops the nightmares.
It’s like we both understand what the other needs and never think twice about giving it.
She utters a faint, cute sound before she rolls over and curls into a ball. Her top hikes up and my breath catches in my throat. I step closer, narrowing my eyes.
“What the fuck …” I sink onto the edge of the mattress. Instinctively, I reach out to inspect the huge, angry bruise blooming across her hip bone but stop myself when a flash of red catches my attention.
Small, maroon dots staining her sleeves.
Slowly, I peel her sleeve back and I nearly gag.
Cuts. Fucking everywhere. The undersides of her forearms are covered in tiny lacerations, some small, others deeper. They haven’t even scabbed over yet.
Jesus Christ. This happened after I left her last night?
I shake my head, pressure building behind my eyes. “Who did this to you?”
She stretches her legs, shifting positions before her eyes slowly open.
“Chase?” she mumbles, lifting her head off the pillow. “What time is it?”
I can’t speak. I try, but the sound that leaves me is broken.
She follows my line of sight, landing on her lacerated arm. In a flash, she shrinks away, jerking her sleeves down. “What are you doing?”
“I—” I think my heart just broke.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” she accuses, eyes wide. “I need to be home!”
I lurch back, pointing to the bloodstains. “Summer, what the hell happened?”
“Nothing happened.” She tries to push past me, but I stay firm. “I need to go.”
“Is this why you came here? Why you’ve been coming here?”
No answer.
My voice drops as my mind flips through possible scenarios—each one more stomach-churning than the last. “Did you …” I swallow. “Did you do that to yourself?”
“What?” Her face twists. “No, I didn’t cut myself.”
“Right. Just another bump, then.” I gesture toward her hip. “And the bruise? When did you get that?”
Her hand flies to the fabric covering her mark. “I have to go.”
She scoots forward and attempts to fling a leg over the edge of the mattress.
“Hayes.” I gently place my hand on her thigh, stopping her. “Tell me what happened.”
“Please don’t make a big deal out of nothing,” she whispers.
“Is that what it really is?” I ask, my voice gentle. “Nothing?”
She chews on her bottom lip, nodding, and it kills me to see her so afraid.
“How did you get the mark on your collarbone?”
She looks away.
“Please look at me,” I softly implore.
She doesn’t.
She flinches when I catch her chin between my thumb and forefinger, carefully turning her to meet my eyes. “Who’s hurting you?”
Finally, I’m met with the answer I already know.
Her dad.
“Don’t go home,” I say, my voice quiet.
“I have to. I don’t have any other choice,” she croaks, a tear tracing a wet path down her face.
My hands bracket her jaw in a featherlight touch while my thumb runs a soothing line over her cheekbone, wiping the droplet away. “It’s him? Your father?”
Her voice wobbles. “Let me go.”
“I’m so sorry, Summer.”
Her delicate fingers encircle my wrists, but she doesn’t push me away. “Don’t. I don’t want your pity.”
“Stay here. With me,” I insist.
Her shoulders sag. “I wish it were that simple.”
“Why couldn’t it be?”
“Because you don’t know what he’s like. He’s—” She inhales deeply, tired. “It’s complicated.”
“How is it complicated? He’s hurting you. Don’t go home.”
“You don’t get it. If I’m not there when he wakes up …” She trails off, but the silence tells me everything I need to know. And that ache in my chest spreads through my whole body.
“When did it start?”
Her eyes lower to her lap.
“Sum.”
“After my mother died,” she murmurs.
“How many times?”
She looks at me. “What?”
“How many times has he hurt you?”
She quickly swipes at her tears. “Chase, don’t.” Her arms wrap around her middle, like she’s fighting to hold herself together. “It doesn’t matter.”
I brush my thumb over her cheek. “It matters to me, Hayes.” My voice cracks on her name, and I hate how I sound. Hate how useless I’ve been. “Please.”
A choked sound tumbles past her lips.
I press my forehead to hers. “How many times?”
When she finally speaks, I hardly catch it. “I’ve lost count.”
Three words. Each land like a punch to the chest.
Am I the only one who knows? Have her other friends noticed and said nothing, like me?
I pull back. “Does Addie know? Cody?”
She stalls a second. “No.”
“You can’t go back to that house.”
“Please don’t try to save me. This isn’t your problem, Chase.”
“The hell it isn’t. It doesn’t have to be yours either. We can—”
“What?” Her voice splinters. “We can what? Take all the money I don’t have and live on the street?”
I don’t have an answer. I should have a goddamn answer.
“You could sing,” I say.
“Sing?”
“You’re good, Summer. You’re better than good. You have a talent people would pay to hear. You could—”
“I’m not ready yet. I can’t just leave Ocean Grove and busk on a random street corner. I don’t have enough money to get out of here yet.” She shakes her head. “I have a plan.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m trying to save four thousand dollars,” she says finally. “That’s what I need—enough for a one-way ticket, first and second months’ rent, and enough left over for me to eat and pay utilities while I find work. I’ve been saving everything from the diner. It’s not much, but it’s adding up.”
“How much do you have?”
“Twelve hundred.”
I quickly do the math. “So, a few more months.”
“Six. Maybe less if I pick up more hours,” she says. “The most important thing is that he doesn’t find out. If he even suspects I’m planning to leave—” She stops. “He’ll take everything. He’ll find a way to make sure I can’t go anywhere.”
“Why would he do that to you?”
“Because—” She cuts herself off.
My brows hike up. “Because?”
“He blames me for Mom’s death. I owe him.”
“Jesus, Sum. That’s so fucked up.”
She presses her lips together.
“Six months,” I say, more to myself. “I can’t leave you to wait that long.”
“I can’t go sooner. I have no safety net. I don’t have a family who will catch me if I fall.” Her eyes glisten.
“I’ll catch you, Hayes. I’ll always catch you.”
“Chase,” she whispers.
“You have to try something. Anything.”
“I’ll fail.”
“You won’t fail.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you. And I know that voice of yours is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
Her arms fall limp. “It’s a nice dream. But that might be all it is.”
“Did you hear anything back about your demos?”
“No,” she says, her voice quiet.
“Let me make this better. Please,” I say, grasping. “My parents could help.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not fair. I can’t put that on them.”
“Fine. Then we go to the police.”
“No!” She grabs my shirt, bunching the fabric in desperation. “I don’t want anyone to know. He’ll …” She gulps. “You have to promise, Chase. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone.”
“Don’t ask me to promise that.” The words scrape out of me. I’m barely holding on to my restraint. “I’ll kill him. I swear to God.”
“It isn’t your place to tell anyone!”
“Not my place?” I bolt upright. “You turn up to my house in the middle of the night, you have cuts all over your fucking arms, and there’s a bruise the size of the damn moon on your hip!
Christ, Summer. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since I left you at your door, and I’m just supposed to pretend like this isn’t fucking happening?
” I pivot away, tugging my fingers through my hair.
“They’re nothing.”
“They aren’t nothing!” I spin to face her, smacking my chest. “To me, they’re everything! Let me help you, Hayes.”
She scrambles off the bed, crowding me. “You can’t help! Don’t you get it? If I’m not here with him, I need to be somewhere far, far away where he can’t find me. So, unless you miraculously have thousands of dollars lying around, which you obviously don’t, then stop—”
She pauses.
My arms drop as her words land, and her face crumples.
And that’s just the thing. She’s not wrong. I don’t have any money. I have nothing.
She swipes her cheek as a tear brims and falls. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t … I didn’t mean it like that.”
The silence hovers between us, thick and suffocating.
“I know you didn’t,” I say, my voice quiet.
She steps forward, linking her fingers with mine.
“I know you’re trying to help. But you need to understand that it’ll only make things worse.
I have my plan. I need to stick to it. It’s really important to me, Chase.
If he suspects that I’ve told someone, he’ll take it out on me.
So, please.” The fight drains out of her. “I’m begging you. Just leave it.”
“But if we tell the police—”
“He might be arrested. But then he’ll make bail—because people like me never win—and he’ll come home and he’ll find me.
” Her voice quivers. “I don’t have enough to run anywhere he can’t find me.
I need to leave California. I need more time.
I need to keep working and keep my head down until I have enough to disappear. ”
“You expect me to watch him do this to you for months?”
“I want you to let me handle it. I’ve been handling it since I was fourteen. I know what I’m doing.”
Her admission slices through me. Four years she’s been putting up with this. Hiding his abuse.
I briefly close my eyes and a tear escapes.
“Chase,” she whispers.
“It’s killing me that I can’t give you more than this.” I gesture between us. “It’ll never be enough.”
She squeezes my hand. “It is enough. That’s how I’ve gotten through this last year. Because of this.”
“You’re bleeding through your sleeve, and I can’t do a thing about it.”
“I’m not asking you to.”
My arms fold around her as gently as possible and I press my mouth to her hair. “Stay with me. Please. So I know you’re safe.”
Her bottom lip shakes as she pulls away, her focus darting to the window behind me. “I really do have to go.”
“Please don’t,” I breathe.
“I’ll see you soon,” she says, stepping away. She sniffles, schooling her features as if she’s done this a hundred times before. It’s worse than the tears.
“It fucking hurts, Hayes.” I hate every syllable that tumbles out of my mouth. I should be able to fix this. I need to fix this.
“It’ll be fine, Chase. He won’t touch me.”
My chest stutters. “If you need me—”
“I know.” Her eyes flicker.
I stand here like a fucking scarecrow, watching as she slips through the window and returns to her house. My fingers twitch, itching to do something. I grind my teeth so hard it hurts. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to follow her, kick the door in, and carry her back out. To do anything.
But I heard her warning. If I act, it’ll only makes things worse. And I can’t. I can’t risk her safety or risk losing her.
I won’t tell anyone, but I promise myself that I will get her out of here.
Whatever it takes.