36. Chase
Chase
Steele and I meet for a late afternoon surf.
I needed to burn energy. Needed to do something—anything—to outrun the noise in my head. The image of Mom in that hospital bed, pale and small, tethered to machines and drips is burned into my memory along with the look on Summer’s face when I told her to leave.
When Mom was discharged and brought home, she was weaker than before.
She moves differently now. Needs help with things she would have refused help with weeks ago.
The tubes came home with her. She’s on a strict medication schedule and Dad’s even hired a palliative nurse full-time.
I’ve helped cover the costs where I can.
Dad doesn’t say much about it. He just gets on with things the way he always has. He carries her when she needs carrying and sits with her in the afternoons when the nurse has gone home.
Then I think of Summer and the way I treated her. I was a total asshole.
The way she looked at me when I kicked her out has burned into my retinas.
Her wide eyes. The tremble in her bottom lip.
I fucked up. I know I did. I didn’t need to push her away like that or be so cruel. But the thing is, I can’t control it anymore. The need to shove everyone away before they get close enough to hurt me again controls me. It has for years.
So, I come here.
I need the salt water to burn my eyes and the cold to shock me until I’m numb. I need the waves to catch my thoughts like a rip current and drag them somewhere so deep I can’t follow.
“So, what’s going on with you and Rachel?” Steele asks, peeling off his wetsuit.
I shake my hair and push it out of my eyes. I unzip my own wetsuit and step out of it, reaching for my stuff to throw on a pair of shorts and a white tee. “Same thing as usual, man. Nothing.”
His brow furrows. “Didn’t look like nothing the other day.”
I snatch my towel from the sand and shake it out before drying my hair and face. “It isn’t serious. We just mess around.”
“Does she know that?” He picks up his drink bottle and brings it to his lips.
I drop the towel and shoot him a look. “She knows what it is.”
Steele takes a long pull from his water bottle, watching me with an expression I don’t like. When he finishes, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hmm.”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.”
A shit-eating grin splits his face. “Like what? You’re completely full of it? Because you are, man. Full to the brim.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Fuck off.”
“I’m serious.” He flops onto the sand, leaning back on his elbows. “She kissed you in public. That’s staking a claim.”
I wince internally.
Rachel and I have never kissed in public before. Hell, we barely even kiss when we get together. Our arrangement has always been simple—uncomplicated. She wants company, she comes over. I don’t ask questions, and we both think it’s enough. She knows I only do casual.
But the other day at the diner was weird. I didn’t know how to react, and I didn’t stop her.
I should have.
I think in the moment, I wanted to feel like I’d moved on.
“I’ve been clear about not wanting a relationship,” I reply.
“Right. And how did that conversation go?”
I shrug. “Well, I think.”
“Before or after she had her tongue shoved halfway down your throat?”
I throw my towel at his face and he catches it midair, laughing.
“Maybe I should have a crack at Rachel.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Be my guest.” I sweep out my arm. “But you’re the one person who shouldn’t be giving me shit.”
“Why?”
“Addie.”
Steele’s grin vanishes immediately. His jaw ticks and he looks away, squinting at the horizon. “That’s different.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “I don’t understand why you don’t just show her the side of yourself that you show me.”
He shakes his head. “She doesn’t want to see that side. She’s too happy hating me. It’s easier.”
“For who?”
A brief pause, then, “Both of us.” He picks up a handful of sand and watches it sift through his fingers. “Trust me. Some things are better left buried.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “I’ve known you a long time, Steele. The way you act around other people? It isn’t you. You’re a good guy. You don’t humiliate women. Why can’t you just have a conversation with her?”
He arches a brow. “That’s rich, coming from you.”
I look away. “Touché.”
He chuckles softly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” The silence stretches between us for a long moment. Then: “I was protecting her.”
“From what?”
“From me.” His eyes fall to the sand before flicking up. I frown, studying him when he spots something over my shoulder. “Shit,” he mutters.
I turn.
Summer’s strolling toward the shoreline about fifty yards away.
She hasn’t spotted us yet. The wind whips her hair around her face, fluttering over her lips in a way that makes my fingers itch to brush it back.
She’s wearing a loose, pale blue summer dress, her legs tan and feet bare.
She has a notebook folded open in one hand and a pen wedged between her fingers in the other.
Her lips are moving while her hand with then pen floats through the air in that way it did when she was chasing a melody.
She looks … fuck. She looks beautiful.
She pauses and scribbles something in her notebook before tilting her head back to the sky, eyes fluttering close against the bright rising sun.
The wind presses the fabric of her dress against her thighs, and she looks like every dream I’ve woken up from.
“You’re staring,” Steele says, pulling me from my daze.
“I know.”
“Like, aggressively staring.”
I don’t look away because I physically can’t. “She’s writing again,” I murmur.
Beside me, Steele’s phone pings with a message. He rifles through his towel until he finds it, swiping a finger to open it. He releases a long sigh. “It’s Liv. She needs a jump-start.”
“What? Again?” I ask.
“Told you, man. She needs to let me buy her a new car.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Good luck with that. I’ve been working on her old red rocket for years. She loves that thing.”
He grunts, pushing to his feet. “You coming or …?”
His question dangles between us as his eyes flick to Summer. He lifts a brow.
I chew my lip. “I’ll stay.”
He shoots me a knowing grin and smacks my shoulder. “See you later.”
“Yeah, catch you soon.”
He strides to the parking lot, board tucked under his arm, before my attention drifts back to where it wants to be.
Summer.
She’s moved closer to the water now, the tide lapping at her toes. She’s still lost in whatever song is unspooling in her head, totally unaware that I’m here.
I dig around in my towel until my fingers wrap around the crumpled packet of cigarettes. I tap one loose and bring it to my lips, cupping my hand against the breeze as I flick the lighter. I inhale deeply and exhale through my nose.
That’s when she looks up.
Our eyes lock across the beach and she stills, watching me.
I can’t read her expression from here, but I can tell she isn’t happy. Her eyes slowly drop to the cigarette pinched between my fingers and her whole face changes.
Oh, shit.
I push to my feet the moment she starts moving—marching—in my direction. I slip the death stick between my lips to take another drag while her bare feet eat up the distance between us.
Yeah, she doesn’t look happy at all.
I say nothing, only resist the urge to smirk.
When she’s in front of me, she reaches up wordlessly and plucks the cigarette straight from between my lips. Then, she drops it on the ground and stomps on it.
“Ouch!” She hisses, shaking her foot.
“What the hell did you do that for?” I stare at her. “Are you insane? You’ll burn your damn foot!”
“Are you?” She jabs a finger at my chest. “You smoke!”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Umm …” I look around before focusing my attention solely on her. “I don’t believe I am.”
Her eyes throw flames.
What the hell is her problem? She looks kind of cute when she’s mad. No, stop it, Chase.
“Relax, Hayes. It’s just a cigarette—”
“My mother died of lung cancer.”
The words are like a kick to the balls.
Shit. “Summer—”
She retreats a step, her voice turning quiet. “What happened to you? You’re so …” She shakes her head as if she’s disappointed.
“What do you expect, Summer?” I gesture to myself. “I’m sorry if I don’t live up to whatever fucking fairy tale you conjured in that pretty little head of yours, but I grew the fuck up.”
“I didn’t expect a fairy tale.” She waves a hand at me. “But I didn’t expect this either.”
“And what exactly is this? Don’t live up to your pop star standards?”
“Oh, you are such an asshole.”
“Then what is it? What did you expect?”
Her chin lifts but her voice shrinks. “My friend.”
“We aren’t friends, Hayes. Not anymore.”
A crease forms between her brows. “I don’t get it.”
I tip my head back to the sky, the clouds growing grayer. “Jesus Christ.” I’m being a total ass, but the alternative is showing her my hand, and I can’t do that. I won’t.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, go on. Get it over with. What aren’t you getting? I’m all ears, sweetheart.”
“Fuck you, Whitmore.”
I pause and her nostrils flare. “Do you feel better now?”
“I would if you aren’t a total dick to me every time I see you!”
“Don’t feel so special. You’re not receiving any preferential treatment, I can assure you.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. The movement presses her breasts together, and I make a point of keeping my eyes locked on her face.
Don’t look. Don’t fucking look.
“Why did you come over here, Summer?” My brows hike up. “Hmm? If I’m such a jerk, why didn’t you keep walking?”
“Because—”
I lift my brows, waiting.
“Because I want to know what the hell happened to you!” The words explode out of her, raw and ragged. “I saw you smoking and I just—” She cuts herself off. “You’re not the person I remember. You’re not—”