“There I was, this shy girl who was terrified while my mom swerved all over the road. She loved driving fast. She scared me as much when she was manic like that as when she was depressed.” The words are coming faster now, toppling over one another, as if once I’ve opened the dam, everything just floods out.
“One minute, we were flying down the coast in a convertible while I begged her to slow down, and the next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital. I spent a month there, but she escaped with just a broken arm that time. She didn’t learn. She died a year later in another drinking and driving accident, this time with her married lover. Sometimes I think that’s what she wanted.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly.
I look at him. “I’ve never talked to anyone about that.”
“Thank you for telling me,” he says, eyes somber.
He moves closer to me in the dark and takes my hand as if it’s as natural as breathing and folds his fingers between mine, letting our joined hands rest on the surface of the water.
We’re friends, I think. This is friendly hand-holding.
Chase makes my heart beat faster and my stomach do twists with just a look. But this feeling that spreads through my veins like warm honey is different. It’s sweeter, deeper. It’s not the butterflies I had when I first met him, an impossibly handsome movie star. This is about Chase, my friend, the man behind the image.
“What about your family?” I ask quietly. “Before the foster homes.”
He’s silent for so long, I think he’s not going to answer, and then he begins to speak. “My mom was young, a single mother. She worked several jobs. But she loved me. I remember her making up stories at bedtime about what we’d do and where we’d go when she could save up enough money.”
“She sounds wonderful.”
“I wish I remembered more.” He takes a deep breath. “She died when I was seven. She was driving home one night, and she was killed in a car accident. A neighbor was babysitting me, and then a lady came to her house, told me my mom died, had me pack a bag, and took me to a foster home. And that was it. My whole life changed in that one night.”
My heart turns over. He says it offhandedly, but I know the searing pain of the words, and I wish I could draw them into me, take some of his burden.
“Oh, Chase. I’m so sorry. I had Nanna. But you had no one.”
“I’m glad you had her,” he says with intensity. “That you were safe and loved.”
“I can’t imagine going through what I did without her. You were so young. You must have been so confused, missing your mom.”
He plays with my hand, our fingers entwining. “I think the hardest part is that the memory of her fades a little more each year,” he says.
He attempts what I think was supposed to be a careless smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“It was a long time ago, and it feels good to talk about her. I knew what it was to be loved, at least for a little while. Daisy’s asshole parents gave her nothing.”
“But don’t you see? You gave Daisy the stories, the care, the love. You filled that role for her, even if it wasn’t long either.”
He frowns. “I tried. But I did a damn poor job of protecting her.”
“You were just a kid. She loves you like the older brother you are to her. You are each other’s family. I know she’d like to spend more time with you,” I say, probing gently.
He doesn’t answer.
He takes my hand and presses a kiss into my wet palm. The gentleness of the gesture turns me inside out.
“You’re cute when you’re earnest.” He lets go of my hand and traces my face with his long fingers before letting them fall back into the water. “You make it so hard to stay away. But I shouldn’t be with you like this.” There’s an edge of desperation to his voice.
“Have you been avoiding me?” I ask, even though I fear I already know the answer.
He tilts his head up to the sky, the angle emphasizing his perfect profile. He blows out a breath and runs a hand through his wet hair. I wait, and when his eyes return to mine, they are dark and conflicted.
I’m wearing next to nothing, and he’s close enough to reach out and touch my breast, touch every part of me, if he wants. And probably more significant, we both bared our souls to each other.
His gaze lingers on my lips and then shifts lower. And I wonder again just how much he can see through the water and the dark.
I’m pretty sure he’s with his ex-girlfriend. He didn’t say he wasn’t.