Chasing Allie (Breaking Away Series #2) (7 page)

Everyone starts shouting at each other, someone in the apartment below starts thumping on the ceiling, Chase’s cell phone is buzzing in his pocket and I realize I’m pretty damn tired suddenly.

“HEY!” I shout. I’m not the type to yell, and it hurts my aching ribs a little, but I do it anyway. Marissa stops talking, but Morty looks like he wants to wipe the floor with Chase as he assumes Chase caused my injuries.

“HEY! CHASE! MORTY! SHUT UP!” I shout again. They both stop.

“I fell off my bicycle the other day. Hard. That’s what all the injuries are from. Chase helped me. Bandaged them all. Sterilized and treated them. And then he rescued me from Jeff—”

Marissa interrupts me. “
Rescued
? Did Jeff finally make a play for you?”

You can hear a pin drop.

“No.” I glance at Morty, who happens to be staring right at me. He’s so enormous and
red
.

“I’ll, um...I have something to do in my room here and I’ll just get lost,” he stammers, taking the hint. His eyebrows drop down in a frown and he and Marissa have a silent conversation with expressions and gestures. Within seconds I hear a door shut.

Marissa stares at Chase, who finally gets the message. “You want to talk to Allie alone. Without me. To make sure she’s really not being hurt by me,” he declares. There’s no challenge in his words. He’s just confirming. 

She crosses her arms over her flat, athletic chest. I got all the cups and curves. She got the muscles and the height. “That about sums it up.”

Chase nods, eyes serious. “Good. I’m glad you’re doing that. I’d do it, too, if Allie were my sister.” He frowns. “If I had a sister.”

It occurs to me that I have no idea if Chase has siblings. “Do you have a brother?” He’s never mentioned one before. Then again, I never asked. 

He pauses. “I have a half brother. Mark.”

“Is he in Atlas?” I ask.

Chase’s eyes ping from me to Marissa. “We can talk later about that. Right now, you two have some business to discuss.” He gently touches my arm, then gives my cheek a kiss. “Tell her everything you know,” he adds. “You need someone other than me to trust.”

Marissa’s eyes flicker with emotion after he says that. “She has me. She’s always had me.”

Chase gives her a hard look. “You’re a couple hundred miles away. She needs your ear and your support, but you haven’t been around.”

“But I—”

He holds up his hands. “Not accusing you. Not blaming. You got out. Built your own life.” He frowns. It’s not a look of anger, but more like he’s thinking about something personal. “My own brother did the same thing. You were smart to do it while you could. Just saying the truth. And the truth is, Allie’s been in a hell of a lot more danger with Wakefield than any of you ever imagined.”

I want to ask him what he means about his brother. I hold off, though. Right now isn’t the time. I can tell.

“Is that why you’re here?” Marissa asks me as Chase steps outside. “Because Jeff put you in danger?”

“Sort of.” I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to answer her questions. The bliss of our time at the Santa Monica Pier is fading already and I’m back to feeling overwhelmed. Angry. Cheated.

Used
.

“How did Jeff put you in danger?”

“You might want to sit down.” 

She sits, then stands abruptly. “You must be thirsty. Want coffee?”

It’s nine p.m. I’ll be up all night anyhow, one way or another. I’d hoped it would be a certain way, with Chase in bed with me, but it’s quickly looking like it’ll be a different way, talking through the night with Marissa.

“Sure.” She walks into the kitchen and I follow her.

“Morty? You’re dating?” I ask. The kitchen is tiny but the basics are all there. Small, old fridge. Stove. Oven. Coffee maker. Microwave. Nothing matches and there are cigarette burns on the edge of the counter, dark brown grooves where someone left a cigarette cherry too close to the plastic. But the kitchen is clean. Marissa and her roommates aren’t slobs. 

“Nah.” She pulls out a large can of cheap coffee and scoops a bunch out into an old drip coffeemaker. “Just...you know. Friends with benefits.”

“That means you’re sleeping together but without labels.” I can feel some part of me inside start to tremor, like it needs to escape. Too much has happened today. I’m wired and tired, and now Chase is outside somewhere, angry and defensive. 

“Something like that.” Her smile says it’s more than something like that.

“He seems...nice.” 

She laughs and laughs. “You have a way with words. Now quit stalling and tell me the truth, Allie. I can handle it.”

“You want the truth?”

“Duh.”

“Jeff sold off my virginity to El Brujo in exchange for a six-figure debt.”

C
HAPTER
N
INE

A weird hissing sound comes out of her mouth, like she’s having an asthma attack. Marissa’s eyes go impossibly wide, bulging out of their sockets. Her hands creep up to her face, palms on her cheeks, and she looks a little like that kid in the old Christmas movie from the 1980s.

“WHAT?” she screams.

Footsteps fill the hallway and Morty bursts into the room.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

Just then, the front door bursts open and Chase walks in. “You okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, Christ,” I mutter.

“JEFF SOLD YOUR VIRGINITY TO A DRUG LORD?” Marissa screams.

“Ah,” Chase says in a clipped voice. “You told her.” His phone buzzes yet again. 

“You gonna answer that?” I ask.

“Nope.”

I sigh.

“How can you be so calm when Jeff just sold you into sex slavery to the biggest drug lord in North America?” Marissa moans, looking at me with pity.

Morty’s bushy red eyebrows disappear into his red hairline. “This is a fascinating conversation to walk in on.”

I look up at him.
Way
up. “We’re a fascinating kind of family,” I reply. 

“No, we’re not,” Marissa says with disgust. “We’re a normal family. At least, we were until our stepfather killed our mother and sold off your virginity.”

“A regular Brady Bunch,” Morty says. Chase snickers.

At least the guys are bonding.

Marissa shoves her hands in her hair and pulls at it. She’s frustrated. The coffee gurgles and we hear a hissing sound.

“Coffee?” Morty walks over to Marissa and leans down to give her a gentle kiss on the cheek. “You are the best not-girlfriend ever.” He walks into the kitchen, motioning for Chase to follow. I nod to Chase and he ambles into the kitchen. Low baritone voices speak in hushed tones.

My turn to raise my eyebrows.

“It’s complicated,” Marissa mutters.

“Sounds like he likes you and you’re pushing him away.”

“When did you become Dr. Phil?” she asks with great sarcasm.

I pull back the hair on my brow and show the nasty road rash. “When I spent the past couple of days trying to get away from Jeff and Chase saved me.”

Chase and Morty return bearing coffee. “Cream for you,” Chase says as he hands off the steaming mug to me.

Marissa’s is black.

“This was supposed to be fun!” she wails.

“Coffee is fun...” Morty says slowly, with great deliberation.

“Not the coffee!” she shouts, whacking him across the chest. A thick line of oil covers the back of her hand and she grimaces.

“Sorry,” he says. “Occupational hazard.” He gently wipes her hand off with his kilt, lifting it in the process. I can’t help myself. I look.

G-string.

Chase sees me looking and scowls. I hide my face in my coffee cup and bury a smile. He’s so jealous. He’s so protective.

He’s so...Chase.

Morty takes a sip of his coffee. He’s standing there, casual and relaxed. It’s as if he isn’t this guy who looks like a redwood tree wearing a plaid skirt and covered in baby oil. He’s just a dude drinking coffee in his apartment, chatting with friends.

I feel like my entire life has turned upside down.

Chase takes a deep breath and closes his eyes as he puts his face down, drinking his coffee. His eyes meet mine and he smiles, taking me in.

“You can still have fun,” Morty reminds Marissa. “Just without me. I have to go work.” He looks at the clock over the stove and gulps his coffee. After putting the mug in the sink he gives Marissa a quick kiss on the cheek and waves to us all as he dashes out the front door. 

“You live with two guys? Morty and Arlen?” Chase asks Marissa. There’s no judgment in his voice. Just curiosity.

“When Arlen’s here his girlfriend’s around sometimes. But yes—I’m stuck with two guys.”

Chase just says, “Cool.”

“And when Allie moves in,” she continues, “we can—”

“You’re not living with two guys,” Chase says to me, then takes a sip of coffee. His voice is even. Matter of fact.

Firm.

“You can’t tell her what to do,” Marissa argues.

“I’m not telling her what to do,” Chase says with great patience. “I’m telling her what
we’re
doing.”

“We’re—what?” I ask, confused. All of the conversations we’ve had since we arrived at Marissa’s feel like we’re speaking English but the words are out of order.

“You aren’t living with two guys,” he says simply.

“But where am I going to live? Marissa offered to help me move in and I’ll share a room with her and pay rent, and—”

“You’ll live with one guy.”

“Huh?”

“Me,” Chase says, finishing his coffee. He walks away from me, sets his mug in the sink, and walks back, hips swaying, his jeans tight around the calves. My eyes land on that belt buckle. It’s the same one he wore the day I met him.

“You—what—me—one guy—
what
?”

“You forget how to speak?” Chase asks softly, a smile tickling his lips.

“Yes,” I say, throwing my hands up in the air in defeat. “Is this your way of saying you want us to live together?”  

He just nods, one eyebrow arched in a question. The ball is my court, I see. 

“We barely know each other! I planned to move out here and share a room with Marissa. It’s cheaper that way, and I still need to go home, get my stuff, then come back and find a job.” I take a deep breath to continue talking.

“Allie,” he says, shaking his head slowly. “It’s decided. I’ll pay the rent. I make enough. You don’t have to worry.” 

“You make
enough
?” Marissa says. “Enough to support Allie here in Los Angeles? What do you do? Deal drugs?” she jokes. 

Bad joke. Bad, bad joke.

Chase’s eye go cold and dead. He takes a deep breath and his chest expands, arms tight and tense. He looks like a cobra readying to strike. It’s menacing and scary. For the first time since I’ve known him a cord of fear shoots through me.

Aimed at him.

“Don’t deal drugs. Don’t make drug money. Haven’t accepted money from Atlas for nearly a year now. So you can take your stereotypes and shove them where the sun don’t shine. Which, in L.A., doesn’t give you many options,” he says to Marissa.

Her mouth forms an O of shock. My cheeks fill in with a rush of blood. I’m paralyzed. The two people I love most in the world are fighting in front of me on the best day of my life. It’s like watching a car that’s about to crash into another car and having no control. No ability to stop the inevitable.

“That was a joke,” she gasps.

“Then it wasn’t a funny one,” he says. His eyes are clouded with anger and closed off when he looks at me.

“Chase, Marissa didn’t mean anything nasty when she said that,” I choke out.

“I have ears, Allie. I know what she said. She knows I’m in a motorcycle gang. She assumed.”

“I...what?” Marissa stammers. “I don’t care how you make your money, dude. I was joking around about how expensive rent is here in L.A. Guys don’t exactly fall all over themselves to offer to pay rent for girls in this city. When you said that, it was like something out of a rescue fantasy.”

The steady inhale and exhale of our breath is the only sound for a few seconds.

A sense of despair fills my bones. An hour ago we were on the Ferris wheel, my whole life pinpointed into three little words. 

And now my sister, who I’ve missed like crazy, is standing in front of me facing off against my boyfriend?

Life went from
awesome
to
suckage
in six seconds.

“Can we start over?” I plead with them both. Marissa won’t even look at me or Chase, and Chase is looking at me under hooded eyes. He’s withdrawn and negative. They’re both so tense I could scream.

“You two,” I continue, “are the most important people in the entire world to me. You’re all I have,” I confess, setting my coffee cup down and slumping onto the couch.

“And now you’re fighting and acting like you can’t stand each other. I’m barely recovered from my bike accident and Chase said he loves me and I touched the ocean today and damn it you two will like each other! You will!” I sound like a five year old having a tantrum.

I don’t care.

Marissa’s lip twitches and her eyes soften. She turns to me and says, “I’m sorry, Allie. This isn’t exactly how I imagined seeing you again would be, either.”

I look at Chase. He lifts his eyes from some fascinating thing he’s staring at on the carpet and catches my eye. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to upset you.”

That’s better. Not perfect. Not enough. But better.

“I accept your apologies. Now, you two apologize to each other.” 

They both glare at me.

“I don’t have anything to—”

“She’s the one who—”

“Bullshit! I didn’t say anything—”

“Barge in here like you—”

Their arguing washes over me like, well...waves in the ocean. They’re ruining everything. Tears fill my eyes.

This isn’t how any of this was supposed to be.

Chase’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

“Would you answer that?” I shout above their voices. He reaches into his back pocket and presses the power key, hard. The phone makes a little sound that indicates it’s powering down.

“Fucking texts,” he mumbles. “They can’t bother me now.”