21. Chase
Chase
The last twenty-four hours have been hell.
Mom sets a mug of freshly brewed coffee in front of me, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Did you get any sleep?”
I stare into the dark liquid and shake my head.
Mom sighs, her slippers whispering against the floorboards as she returns to her baking.
My eyelids flutter close for a second. My body jolts, head snapping up as I fight to stay awake.
I can’t close my eyes because anytime I do, the heaviness I carry in my chest spills over and I’m right back in that room.
The memory plays out like some sick, fucked-up movie.
Fists flying, skin splitting. Tortured eyes and the harrowing screams that tore from her throat, begging her father to stop.
After a visit to the doctor, I spent three hours at the police station yesterday giving my statement once my dad had given his. I had to recount every single detail. Including what happened before Doug came home.
Why he went off. What he did to her. To me.
Then I had to repeat the whole process with my parents once I got home.
Summer made me swear I wouldn’t tell a soul about her father’s violence, and I broke that promise. It felt like I was betraying her a second time as I told my parents why I ran home screaming for help. I didn’t tell them about the nights she stayed over. Some things don’t belong to anyone else.
Those nights were ours.
If they’re all I have left, I’m going to protect them.
Dad held Mom while she cried, both heartbroken for Summer and stunned that someone could hurt their own child.
The house hasn’t felt the same since. It’s heavy now. Every time we step outside or glance out a window, we’re reminded that he’s still there. That it really happened.
The officer told me Doug would be held unless he posted bail, which was likely, given it was his first offense.
The asshole gets off scot-free when he’s been guilty of assault for four goddamn years.
They took photos of my busted nose—which X-rays confirmed wasn’t broken—and asked if I wanted to file separate assault charges. I said no. I have to live next door to that man for God knows how long, and I’ve already broken my promise to Summer. I can’t add fuel to an already burning fire.
I lost her. Pressing charges against Doug won’t change that. It won’t erase last night. It won’t make her stay. It’ll only make my family his next target, and I can’t put that on my parents. Not with everything they’re already carrying.
Dad pushed back on my decision but I held firm.
I spent most of last night calling Summer’s cell before I realized she didn’t have it when the paramedics arrived. I went out of my mind, pacing the length of my bedroom, wondering if she was all right, if the extent of her father’s damage went deeper than the bruises.
Was there internal bleeding? Was she scared? Was she alone?
I rang the hospital first thing this morning, but Summer had already been discharged. They refused to give me any more information.
In an act of desperation, I asked Steele for Addie’s number.
After four missed calls, she texted to tell me that Summer was safe and staying with her.
She told me that her mom covered most of the medical costs, but Summer insisted Rhonda take the two thousand dollars she’d worked her ass off to save.
I asked if I could swing by and visit. She told me Summer was resting.
But it was her last text that cut the deepest: Doug made bail.
“You need to eat something,” Mom says. “I can make you some toast. Or eggs?”
“I’m not hungry.”
I lift my gaze to where Mom stands, hands on hips, tipping her head toward the mug.
I blow out a breath and lift the ceramic to my lips. The first sip is sharp and bitter. I take another. And another.
Mom nods her approval before spinning around to slice limes for her soufflé, twisting the halves over the juicer.
Dad appears in the doorway. “I’m heading to the hardware store. You want to come, son?”
“No, thanks.”
He raps his knuckles against the frame before striding to Mom, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and leaves.
The gesture is small, but the display of intimacy stings.
I remember the feel of Summer’s silky hair slipping through my fingers. The softness of her lips. The warmth of her body pressed against mine.
All those nights she’d sneak through my window and curl up beside me, one earbud each, music playing as we drifted off.
Summer’s never going to climb through my window again.
It feels like my heart is decaying.
I’ve spent the last year picturing a future I can never have.
All I had to do was set an alarm and none of this would have happened. Why didn’t you set a damn alarm?
I’m pulled from my daze when Mom lifts the strainer of juice toward the mixing bowl. I see it before it happens, already pushing to my feet.
“Shoot!” She hisses, missing the bowl entirely.
The liquid splashes across the counter and I reach for the paper towel, mopping up the mess.
She drops the strainer in the sink. “These damn tremors.”
“It isn’t the tremors, Mom,” I reply softly.
“No,” she says, tears gathering in her eyes as she flexes her hands. “I guess not.”
“Come here, Mom.” I wrap her in my arms and hold tight before she can see me break.
My breath shudders and she pulls back, tears tracking down her cheeks. She cups my face. “She’ll be all right.” Her chin lifts. “She’ll get through this.”
“I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me, Mom.”
“You did the right thing, Chase. You saved her life.”
My voice cracks. “She didn’t want to be saved.”
“The right decision doesn’t always feel good.
It can feel awful, but that doesn’t make it wrong.
You did the best you could in a horrible situation.
Sometimes loving someone means making sacrifices.
You loved that girl the only way it matters.
” She holds my gaze. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now.
I know she’s angry and I know you’re hurting.
But one day—maybe not soon, maybe not for a long time—she’ll understand that you loved her enough to lose her. ”
I nod, trying to force a smile when an idea hits me.
My parents might kill me. But if it helps Summer get out of town and find somewhere safe, it’s worth it.
I can’t undo what happened. But I can give Summer something to help her start over.
“Will you be okay here?” I ask, tipping my head toward the strainer.
“I’ll be fine. Go.” She pats my biceps.
I pluck my keys from the hall table and head out front. I pull my cell from my pocket, bring up Steele’s text thread, and fire off a message.
Me: Can you meet me at the Melting Point?
He replies immediately.
Steele: Is everything OK?
Me: I need your help.
Steele: See you in 30?
Me: See you then.
With that organized, my gaze darts between the top window of the house next door and the ladder resting against the weatherboard underneath it.
I tap a finger against my leg as I consider my next move, scanning the street to ensure no one’s around. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m crossing the lawn.
* * *
My eyes shift to the passenger seat where Summer’s belongings sit in a pile. Her phone, her sheet music, and a cracked photo of her and her mom. I found the broken frame on the floor. Must have fallen off her dresser when the lamp went down.
The glass is shattered like a spiderweb over her face, the fractures spreading across Summer’s sweet little face, but it’s clear they’re both laughing. Arms wrapped around each other, smiling like they didn’t have a care in the world.
The Melting Point is half empty when I arrive. I walk through the door and the young woman behind the register scrunches her face when she sees my bandaged nose. Steele’s got a booth with two coffees on the table.
“Jesus.” He laughs. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks.” I slide in across from him and he pushes the Americano toward me. I immediately take a sip.
His brow furrows. “What happened?”
I take a deep breath before launching into everything.
The bonfire, the walk home. I make Steele swear he won’t say a word to Xav or Jasper before I tell him the rest, so I do.
I recount what happened between me and Summer.
How perfect it all felt, falling asleep next to her.
Then Doug coming home and losing his shit.
How I called the police and she’ll never forgive me for it.
How she’s staying with Addie and needs to skip town.
By the time I finish, Steele’s jaw is nearly on the table.
“… which is why I need to sell my truck.”
“What?” His forehead creases. “Why do you need to sell your truck?”
I shrug. “She needs money. I can give it to her.”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck, man.”
“Can you help me?”
“When do you need the money?”
“Today.”
“Shit.”
“I know.”
Steele’s dad is a total asshat, but the man has connections. His uncle owns a bunch of new and used car dealerships across California, one of which is right here in Ocean Grove.
It’s the kind of place where salesmen wear cheap suits and deal mainly in cash. Is it shady? Absolutely. But beggars can’t be choosers. And I’m desperate.
He glances away before blowing out a long breath. “Yeah, man. Of course I will.”
I nod. “Thanks … how fast can we do it?”
He pulls out his cell phone. “Let me make a call.”
I drain my coffee and an hour later, me and Steele are standing in a gravel lot. With Summer’s belongings in hand, we watch my truck disappear through a row of used vehicles to be washed and sold.
Steele’s uncle pats him on the back and passes me an envelope full of cash. I’ve never felt so slippery in my life.
“Six thousand.” He shrugs. “Best I can do.”
I take it, shaking his hand. “Perfect.”
Steele claps my back as we walk back to his car to drive to Addie’s. She doesn’t know I’m coming, but if I want to get the money to Summer, and Addie still won’t answer my calls, I don’t have many options.
I settle into the passenger seat and stare at the envelope, weighing the cash in my hand. “I don’t think I’ll ever hold this much money again in my life.” I roll my window down, hoping the fresh air will keep me awake.
“What are you talking about?” Steele snorts, turning the key in the ignition. “You’re gonna be drafted after college. This’ll be pocket change.”
My stomach bottoms out. With everything that’s happened, I hadn’t even thought about how to tell him.
Guess I better rip off the Band-Aid. “I’m not going to UCLA, Steele.”
His hand freezes on the gearstick. “What?”
“I’m not going. I can’t.”
“Are you insane?” He twists to face me. “Why the hell not?”
“Mom’s sick. My parents can barely pay for her treatments as it is. I just sold my fucking truck to help the girl I love skip town after something I did.” I shrug. “I need to help out. I can’t leave them.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You’re giving up UCLA?”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Do you? Because it sounds fucking crazy!” His voice rises. “This was supposed to be the best time of our lives, Chase. You and me. Roommates. Teammates. We were doing this together! It’s been our plan since sophomore year!”
“I can’t fucking go, Steele!” The words rip out of me.
He falls silent.
I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to get a grip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“No.” He stiffens slightly. “I get it.”
More silence.
“I need to do this,” I say finally. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t.
Dad can’t do it alone.” My eyes fall to my lap.
“She was making soufflé this morning. She was pouring juice into a bowl and she missed. Poured it straight onto the counter. Her hands were shaking and—” I clear my throat.
“Her seizure was just a few days ago, Steele. This is only the beginning. It’s already bad, and it’s gonna get worse. ”
He doesn’t argue. What can he say to that?
“Your parents are gonna murder you. You know that, right?”
I grind my teeth. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, man. About your mom. That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Shame, really—it’s a damn good soufflé.”
That earns me a laugh.
“Are we good?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He nods once. “We’re good.”
I pick at the corner of the envelope. “You gonna tell me what happened between you and Addie at the bonfire? I saw her smiling. That’s an improvement.”
“I thought I might’ve been getting somewhere with her.” He scoffs. “She won’t let me in.” His knuckles blanch against the steering wheel. “Wanna know the worst part? I can’t even blame her. I blew it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” His voice is quiet. “Me too.”
The only sound is the low hum of the engine as Steele focuses on the road. There’s nothing left to say.
He’s leaving to follow his dream.
I’m staying to bury mine.