Pieces of Summer (A stand-alone novel) (10 page)

He keeps his head down, and I tuck my legs under me.

“You could have called when you got a phone. I at least deserved to hear it from you.”

He nods, still staring at his feet.

“I know.” Then his head comes up. “How did you know I got one?”

Deciding to keep my own secrets, I shrug. “Everyone has a phone these days.”

My number has changed numerous times since that spring. It wouldn’t have done any good for him to call after that. But I also don’t mention that. He had a phone before he moved on.

He blows out a breath, leaning back to stare at me again. “I tried to find you on social media. Never could.”

“I’m only on there under my author name.” The name that anchors me to the past, according to my shrink who wants me to lose the
Chase
surname and adopt a new pen name.

It could have been worse. I could have used
his
surname. It makes me feel a little less crazy to not have used Mikayla James.

“So you looked me up?” he asks, referring to the fact I admitted to knowing he moved.

I stalked your page numerous times a week to see if you had made any post I could see.

“Yeah,” I say vaguely.

“Why not message me?”

“Why not call me? My number was the same for a long time. You might not have called it, but you had it. My address was the same too for a while. You knew how to write.” The words come out with more bite than I mean for them to, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Think it’s time to stray from memory lane. How about telling me what your plans are now that you’re in town?” he asks, confusing me with how nice he’s being tonight.

“I don’t know. I try not to make plans because I have to follow through with them. You know? That whole unfinished thing.”

He grins again. “It was one of my favorite things about you. Considering I didn’t have anyone in my life who ever carried through with plans or kept promises, it made me appreciate your inability to leave something unfinished.”

My chest aches a little from that confession.

“Why did you come back to Hayden?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Seemed like the only place I really fit. I lived in a few places before Nashville, but I didn’t stay longer than a month anywhere until then. Sucks I spent my life dreaming of getting out, only to land right back in town. At least it doesn’t bother me when people stare at me or run their mouths anymore. I grew out of giving a damn.”

Fighting the urge to go to him isn’t easy, but I keep my spot on my sofa.

The wind howls, forcing the house to groan in reply as the limbs crack and slash against the sides. I jump when a loud burst of thunder vibrates the entire house, and Chase watches me.

“What?” I ask, feeling like a kid scared of thunder.

Thunder can’t hurt you, but it’s like a dog growling. The growl doesn’t hurt, but it scares the shit out of you because you know you’ll find teeth where that growl comes from.

“I keep thinking of lying in that sunroom with the rain windows closed. It’s what we always did when it stormed.”

“When we were young and in love,” I remind him, wincing as that four letter word rolls off my tongue with too much abandon.

He flinches too, and an awkward silence gathers between us. After it gets suffocating, he clears his throat.

“You want something to eat?”

I shake my head.

“Movie? Never mind. That’s stupid. Power’s out,” he says, sounding a little nervous.

My laptop is fully charged and I could put a movie on for us, but that would require sitting close to each other to watch it.

“I’m actually really tired. You don’t have to stay. I’m going to head up to bed.”

He looks down at his phone, probably checking the time and seeing how early it is.

“I’ll just make a bed on the couch.”

I close my eyes, trying not to think about what it would be like to walk down here and just stare at him while he sleeps. Because that’s creepy. Only creepy, weird girls do that.

Opening my eyes back up, I realize he’s staring at me, and I feel like an idiot. Awesome.

“If you’re staying, take… Dad’s room.” I almost just offered him Aidan’s room, but that would be weird, since Aidan screwed Whit in there.

Everything about this is weird and awkward.

“The couch is fine, Mika. I’ve slept on worse.”

He grins at me, but I think it’s only to ease the sadness out of that statement.

“Why did you come tonight?” I ask him. “Really.”

He stares at me for a moment before reaching down and untying his boots.

“Like I said, I know you hate storms. Take the candle up with you. I’ll find another. When will Aidan or Hunter be back?”

I tense, knowing this isn’t good territory.

“I don’t know. They… don’t give me times or dates as to when they’ll be somewhere.”

“Why the hell not?” he asks, confused.

This is something normal people would get confused over.

“Because I’ll expect them to be there at exactly that time on exactly that day. Being unable to leave something unfinished isn’t a cute quirk of mine anymore, Chase. Good night.”

He looks baffled, but I turn away and jog up the stairs as the storm continues to batter the house. Having him here is distracting me from the storm.

It’s also distracting me from reality.

Chapter 19

MIKA

“I’m eighteen now! I can leave if I want to!” I scream, pushing my psychotic mother off me.

“No you can’t! You can’t leave me! Everyone keeps leaving me!”

She’s such a maniac. I really hate her. You can’t down five different pills for depression and then drink a bottle of wine. It just makes you crazier. But that’s what happens when you have a dick uncle who gets your mother stuck on all sorts of pills just so he can have unlimited access to her checking account.

He should have been the actor instead of her. He fooled us all like the brilliant asshole he is.

The storm rattles on outside, but I barely pay it any attention. All it does is make me miss Chase that much more—like all storms do. And I don’t want to miss him because I hate him almost as much as I hate my mother.

“I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back. I hate you. I hate this house. I hate your tool of a brother! I hate everything you represent!”

Her eyes are wild and she keeps gripping my arms, slinging me around. “You ungrateful little shit! Do you know what I sacrificed to be your mother?”

“You sacrificed your acting career,” I say dramatically, rolling my eyes. “You can’t even lie good, Mom. Do you really think your acting career would have been that incredible? You’d be a broke wannabe begging for a role, while sleeping in a cardboard box if it hadn’t been for Dad. Who’s ungrateful?”

“Would you two please stop arguing?” Aidan groans from his bedroom down the hall.

I look over at his open door while shoving away from Mom again. He wants out of this as much as I do, but he hates the conflict.

Just as I start to walk down the stairs, Mom is grabbing my hair like the crazy bitch she is, and jerking me back, slamming me against the bannister of the hallway balcony.

“Take that back!” she roars. “I would have been famous. I would have been beautiful. I would have been happy!”

I struggle to get her hands off me, and finally shove my hands against her chest, sending her staggering backwards. The wildness in her eyes multiplies, and she screams seconds before she shoves me hard.

Aidan’s scream of terror hits my ears just as something crashes behind me, and weightlessness catches my breath as my stomach drops.

I jerk awake, grabbing the bed to keep myself from falling like I just was, sweating as I look around the room. The room. I’m in my bedroom. Not in the Mad Hatter’s house.

Blowing out a breath, I look outside to see the sun is glaring brightly, acting as though there was no vicious storm last night. Sluggishly, I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Memories dressed as nightmares never taste very good.

After twisting my hair into a messy bun, I throw on a pair of shorts and jog downstairs. But I’m stumbling to a halt when I reach the kitchen and see heaven. Okay, it’s just a naked back, but it’s close enough.

How did I forget he was here?

He moves, stretching to open the cabinet door, and I watch as his lean muscles flex with the motion. It’s mesmerizing, and all he’s doing is getting a coffee cup. The tops of his boxers are barely sticking up above the waistline of his jeans, and my eyes trail over the numerous lines of ink on his back.

My face flames and heats when he turns around and smirks, catching me ogling him. He should have a shirt on, damn it.

“Coffee?” he asks, not bothering to mock me.

“Please,” I say curtly, forcing a tight smile. As I sit down at the bar, he goes to work making our coffees, fixing mine with just a splash of cream. It’s weird he remembers. “Didn’t expect you to still be here.”

He glances over and shrugs. “Shop is closed today. Figured I’d stick around and have some coffee with you. Maybe… catch up?”

Catching up last night was difficult enough. I don’t want to start a new day with the same thing I did last night. That’s not allowed, damn it. It invites in memories like the dream that jarred me awake this morning.

He slides my coffee over to me while taking a seat at the bar across from me. We stare at each other for several long minutes, locked in a gaze that dares the other to look away first.

When it gets too intense, I finally break the eye contact, but I
do not
look at his body that is lined with even more ink than I knew.

“I’m going to the bowling alley today,” I tell him, even though I had no intention of it before this moment.

“I’ll come with. I’d like to see it.”

Shit.

“Why?”

“Because it was once my dream.”

I look up to see him cocking an eyebrow at me. It’s then I notice how tired he looks. Ignoring his comment, I focus on his appearance.

“You didn’t sleep too well on the couch. Told you to take Dad’s room.”

He snorts derisively. “Nah. The couch was hella comfortable. I just stayed up too late reading about my death.”

My lips twitch, and he nods slowly. “You weren’t kidding about that shit being brutal. Pretty dark stuff when it starts off with them finding my severed cock in a dirty alleyway next to a whorehouse.”

I cover my smile, and he shudders dramatically. “Thanks for those nightmares.”

When I laugh, he grins, sipping his coffee while watching me.

“You should see how you die in the next book,” I say softly, hiding my own twisted smile.

“If it’s worse than that, I think I’ll pass.”

Who would have thought talking about a murder could lighten the room so much?

“So… Heard your dad died. That’s how you got the house, right?”

That causes me to tense, because Whit might have told him more than I thought.

“Can we not talk about that?”

He clears his throat. “Right. Sorry. My bad. Hate that, though. Milton was a good guy.”

“Yeah. He was. Even though he told you to stay away.”

Conflicting emotions wash over me, and Chase blows out a harsh breath.

“It wasn’t like that, Mika. Anyway, I like what you’ve done with the place.”

He motions around at all the upgrades. Stainless steel appliances, newly stained cabinets, and a few other things have modernized the space.

“It’s not finished. Hunter is just taking his time doing things since I’m living here. He tries to accomplish more when I’m not home.”

“Why’s that?”

Deciding not to answer, I sip my coffee as a reason to stay quiet, and then deflect the conversation when I lower my cup again.

“Whit will be at the bowling alley,” I remind him, hoping that deters him from going.

“Yeah. I figured. She won’t mind me coming there, though.”

Jealousy sucks. Does that mean they’re back together? Does that mean he wants to see her? Is that what this is?

The hell am I doing? I’m obsessing again. I can’t do that.

It’s not like I can be with him… And I don’t want to be with him.
Sure you don’t, Mika.

“I should get dressed,” I tell him, leaving the table. “Probably best if you’re gone when I get done.”

I don’t say anything else, and he doesn’t either.

By the time I finish getting ready and come back downstairs, he’s already gone, and I breathe out in relief. Now I wonder if I should really go to the bowling alley. Not that it matters. I committed to it now, so I have to go, even if it’s only to step inside and turn around and leave just so I can feel satisfied I was there.

See why I can’t be with anyone? I’m a fucking mess.