by Nikki Ash
I was little, too little. I shouldn’t even remember what happened, but I do. I used to think they were nightmares, but the older I got, the more I realized they were memories. Memories I’ve never told anyone about—not even Lexi.
“Shit, Georgia, you’re shaking,” Chase says, rubbing his palms up and down my arms.
“I need…” I croak out. “I need to leave.”
I take off running through the crowded club in search of the entrance. I don’t stop until I push the door open and fall outside, gulping down pockets of air, finally able to breathe a little easier.
Jesus, I’m so messed up. I need to grow the hell up. I’m almost twenty-two, for God’s sake. My biological father is dead, and I’ve been safe and loved for years. Tristan, the man who adopted me—and is my dad in every way that counts—and my mom love me more than anything. I’ve lived a life most dream of. I should be normal—like Lexi.
But I’m not.
“Georgia!” Chase yells, catching up to me. “What the hell happened back there?”
Not wanting to embarrass myself any further, I shrug. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Bullshit,” he hisses. “I felt your heart. You were shaking and—”
“Can you just drop it?” I snap. “I never should’ve come here.”
Chase steps closer to me. “You were having a panic attack. Being in that club, with all those people…” His hazel eyes lock with mine as the pieces fall into place. “That’s why you don’t go out and stay in your room all the time…”
“Yeah, I’m weird. I’m going to catch a cab home. You should stay and have a good time.” I turn to leave, but Chase grabs my forearm, stopping me.
“You’re not weird. You have social anxiety. Have you talked to anyone about it?”
No because that would mean telling my family…
I shake my head. “I’m okay now. Really, you should go back in. I’m sorry for ruining your night. At least next time you’ll know better than to invite me,” I half-joke.
Chase doesn’t laugh. “You didn’t ruin anything.” He flags down a cab and opens the door for me. I slide in, and then he gets in as well.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m not sending you home alone,” he scoffs. “It’s fine.”
The ride home is quiet. When we get up to our place, which is on the second floor, we go our separate ways. I take a quick shower, then get dressed in a tank top and sweats.
I’m standing in the kitchen, getting a drink of water and checking my phone, when Chase walks in. He’s dressed in black basketball shorts sans shirt. My eyes trail down his body. He works out almost every day, and his muscular body is proof of that. His skin is tattoo free, with only a light spattering of hair across his hard chest. His six-pack abs look almost airbrushed on. And the V that disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts… Jesus. My hand tingles, wanting to run my fingers down them to make sure they’re real.
Chase clears his throat, and my eyes pop up to meet his, which are dancing with laughter because he just caught me blatantly checking him out. His chocolate brown hair is wet and messy from his shower, and a few droplets of water drip down his temple.
My phone pings with a text, and I glance down at it. I must frown at it because Chase says, “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m—”
“Can you please not lie to me?”
I look up and his jaw is ticking.
“I was lied to by my ex-wife for years. If you don’t want to tell me something, just say that, but don’t lie.”
I swallow thickly at his request. I’m so used to saying I’m okay, it’s become my go-to answer. I didn’t intentionally lie to him.
“Lexi and I were supposed to meet tomorrow for lunch and to get our nails done. It’s our thing…” Or at least it was until she had her daughter. Now I feel like I barely see her anymore. “She has to meet with the event coordinator for the gallery opening. It’s not a big deal,” I say flippantly, hoping my tone matches my words.
I send Lexi a text back, telling her it’s okay and we’ll get together soon. When I glance back up, Chase is staring at me. “What?”
“I never realized how often you lie. Do you ever tell the truth?”
“I’m going to bed,” I mutter, not wanting to argue with him. I don’t do well with confrontation and I’m finally not feeling like I’m going to hyperventilate, so I’d like it to stay that way. Before he can argue, I hurry into my room, shutting the door behind me.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” a deep voice says. “Time to get up.”
I groan and roll over, coming face to face with Chase, who’s sitting on the edge of my bed. “What time is it?” I ask, my voice gravelly with sleep.
“Nine o’clock.”
“Ugh! I’m sleeping. Wasn’t my door closed?”
“Yeah, but I knocked and you didn’t answer.”
“Because I was sleeping,” I whine. I was up until almost four o’clock working on a large website I’m creating for a fortune five hundred company.
“And now you’re up. Let’s go. We have things to do today.”
I sit up, confused. “I don’t have anything to do today.” I glance at him and he’s dressed in a Station 115 shirt, which is the number of the fire station he works at, and a pair of jeans.
“Yes, we do,” he argues. “Now, up.” He pats my thigh. “The day is a wasting.”
He stands and grins. “I’ll meet you in the living room when you’re done getting ready.” Then he disappears.
Twenty minutes later, I’m dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt, ready to go. “Want to tell me where we’re going now?”
“Who’s your book boyfriend?” he asks, his eyes on my chest.
I glance down and then laugh. My shirt reads: My book boyfriend is better than yours. “It’s a joke. I got it at a book signing I went to last year in San Francisco. A book boyfriend is a fake boyfriend from a book.”
I turn around so he can see the list of names on the back of my shirt. “It’s all my favorite heroes from the books I’ve read.”
“Carson Matthews, Ridge Beckett, Kostas Demetriou, Reece Hatfield.” Chase tilts his head to the side slightly in confusion.
“I told you I’m weird. The only serious relationships I’ve ever had were with fake guys.”
“Stop saying that. You’re not weird. I was just wondering how good those guys can be if they can’t even really please you.” He shrugs.
If I were drinking, the liquid would be all over him. “Well, I’ve only been with one guy,” I admit, “and he was selfish in bed, so I think I’ll take my fake men over real ones.” The second the words are out, I immediately regret them.
“Wait… you slept with that douchebag Robert?” he asks incredulously.
“Not that it’s your business…” But since I did bring it up first… “No, but we did stuff.” He attempted to finger me, but nothing happened, and when I asked him about it, he got defensive and said sex would be better.
Chase’s mouth gapes open. “You do not get to judge all men based on that asshole.”
“Whatever, I’m dressed. Now where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” He grins mischievously.
Since I don’t know where we’re going, we take his car. It’s a newer BMW, the interior all leather, and the gadgets all high-tech.
“This is a nice car,” I say, realizing it’s the first time I’ve been in his vehicle.
“Thanks.”
“Too bad it’s probably overpriced and will break down on you soon.”
His head whips around to look at me. “What?”
“Yeah, don’t you know what BMW stands for?” I ask, remembering all the jokes my dad threw at my godfather, Mason, over the years about his love of BMWs. My dad is a Ford man through and through, and Mason only buys BMWs. At first, I wanted a cute little car, but my dad wanted me to have a Ford truck so I would be safe. It took some getting used to, but it’s kind of cool knowin
g I could run over any vehicle on the road—yes, my truck is that damn big.
“Really?” he scoffs. “You’re going there? You drive a Ford,” he accuses.
“First on Race Day.”
Chase snorts. “Just don’t be calling me when your truck is stuck on the side of the road, dead, to come pick your ass up in my BMW.”
I laugh and turn the volume up on his radio, liking the song that’s playing. When we drive into Larchmont, a small neighborhood I know well, since my parents both have businesses here, I glance around curiously.
“Coffee first,” Chase says, pulling through the drive-thru of Jumpin’ Java, my favorite coffee place. I smile on the inside that he knows this. I was with Robert for months and he didn’t pay attention to anything. I hate mushrooms, yet every time he would order our food—because he insisted on ordering—he would forget to mention to the waitress to leave them off for me. And when I would complain, he would tell me that adults eat vegetables and to stop acting like a little girl.
A few minutes later Chase pulls into a parking lot and turns off his engine. I’m not sure why we’re here, but I don’t ask, instead, grabbing my coffee and following him.
When he steps up to a nail salon, I grin. “You’re taking me to get my nails done?”
“We’re getting our nails done.” He winks playfully. “Just call me Lexi 2.0.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “Really? You’re getting your nails done?”
“Whatever you two were supposed to do, I’m doing it too.”
My heart swells. “Thank you, but you don’t have to do that.” And then without thought, I wrap my arms around him for a hug. I’m not expecting him to return the hug, so I’m taken aback when his hands slide around my waist and rest on the small of my back. I should back up… end the hug. But instead, I stay where I am, with my face pressed against Chase’s chest. When I breathe in, I catch a whiff of his scent. It’s clean and masculine and oddly enough smells like comfort.
I glance up, and our faces are close… too close. He looks down, his eyes landing on my lips, and I think for a second he’s going to kiss me, which causes me to panic, unsure if I want him to. On one hand, I bet he’d be a good kisser… He definitely has the experience. On the other hand, he has all that experience because he’s been with a lot of women, and I can’t become one of those women… That’s not who I am.
Before I can decide if I want him to kiss me, he retreats, clearing his throat.
“I want to,” he says.
He wants to, what?
Kiss me?
Did I voice my question out loud?
Then he adds, “Plus, I’ve been needing to get a good pedicure.” Oh! He’s referring to wanting to get his nails done with me. I sigh in relief.
“Well, if you insist… This should be fun.”
We walk inside and Chase surprises me when he tells the guy he has an appointment for us. We’re told to pick out our colors. I go with my usual: pink, and Chase chooses blue.
“You can get clear, you know,” I point out.
“Eh, what’s the fun in that?”
We sit in our assigned chairs and the lady shows him how to turn his chair massager on. “Damn, this feels good,” he moans loudly, his eyes rolling back.
Several of the employees and customers look over, making me laugh under my breath at how crazy he is. He glances over at me with a dreamy look in his eyes and shrugs, not giving a shit what anybody thinks.
I try to imagine Robert here with me and I can’t do it. He would’ve scoffed at even the idea of a man getting a pedicure. Yet, Chase is one of the manliest guys I know—I mean, he runs into burning buildings for a living—and he’s completely okay with sitting in a salon getting his toes painted.
Chase has made me laugh more this morning than I ever laughed with Robert. I was so stuck on the fact that I wasn’t right for Robert… that I wasn’t enough. When the truth is, Robert wasn’t right for me.
“What’s going through your head?” Chase asks.
“I want to find someone,” I admit.
When his brows dip in confusion, I explain. “I want to find a guy who’s right for me. Robert wasn’t.”
Chase nods in understanding. “You’ll find him, Georgia, you just have to get out of the house to look.”
He’s right, and for most women that would be easy, but for me, it’s a bit more difficult. It’s probably why I settled so quickly for Robert. He was the first guy to give me attention. I was searching for that perfect path and there he was standing there. I thought at the time it meant something… And I guess in a way it did: a lesson learned.
“Damn, they massage your feet too?” Chase moans. “I’m going to have to get a pedicure every month.”
I giggle and snap a picture of him. Since his head is back and his eyes are closed, he doesn’t notice. I send a group text to Lexi and Alec.
Me: Look who’s replaced Lexi!
Alec: LOL How the hell did you get him to do that?
Me: His idea…
Lexi: Nobody can replace me!
Me: Well, he did.
Lexi: Tomorrow, let’s do breakfast!
Me: Sure! Sounds good.
“Did you tell Alec I’m getting my toes done?” Chase asks.
I look up and laugh. “Maybe…”
“You’re lucky I can’t get up right now, but once I can, you’re dead, woman.”
I laugh harder. “Okay, whatever you say. Lexi and I are meeting for breakfast tomorrow.”
“That’s good. See? You have nothing to be worried about with your relationship with your sister.”
After getting our toes done, Chase gets a manicure, this time forgoing any polish, while I get my fills done on my acrylics. I get my eyebrows threaded, and he gets his trimmed. When the technician waxes the middle of his brows and he squawks like a duck, I crack up.
“Thank you for doing this,” I tell him, once we’re back in the car on the way home.
“You don’t have to thank me. I had a good time, and I feel like a whole new man.” He wiggles his clean fingers, making me giggle.
“So, there’s this bonfire tonight,” he says. I open my mouth to tell him no, but before I can, he adds, “And before you say no…” He side-eyes me. “It’s at Carter’s house. He’s on a couple acres, has a big backyard that’s backed up to the water. There won’t be a lot of people there. Just a few. It’ll be fun. We’ll cook some hot dogs, roast some marshmallows, and I’ll be with you the entire time.”
It actually sounds fun, and before I can come up with an excuse not to go, I find myself saying, “I’ll go… But if you want to leave me to do your own thing, I’ll understand.”
“My own thing?”
“You know… if you meet a woman and want to hang out with her…” The words taste bitter as they leave my mouth, but I push the thought aside. Chase is just being nice to me because I told him I miss Lexi and am lonely.
“If I wanted to hang out with some other woman I wouldn’t have invited you,” he says, leaving no room for argument in his tone.
Chase
We arrive at Carter’s place, and there are a few cars parked in his driveway and along his front yard. Georgia is dressed in a pair of skintight jeans, a black hoodie that reads Fight Club, and black Vans. I love how low-key she is. Most women would be dolled up, but not her… She’s dressed casual and it makes her even sexier. Her eyes are scanning the area, and I can tell she’s nervous about being here. I promised her there wouldn’t be too many people, but she’s still scared. I told Carter a little about her condition and he ensured me there would only be a handful of people hanging out.
“He has a nice home,” she notes absentmindedly.
“His parents left it to him.” Carter lost both of his parents in a hotel fire when he was younger, which is the reason he decided to become a firefighter.
Taking Georgia’s hand in m
ine—something I’ve grown to enjoy doing the last couple days—I walk us around the side of the house. The closer we get, the louder the music gets.
When we reach the backyard, Georgia comes to a halt so she can take everything in. There’s a patio with tables and chairs, a decent size swimming pool, and a hot tub. Farther out, there are several lounge chairs facing the Pacific Ocean, and when you walk along the wooden path, it leads to his private beach where he has a bonfire going with chairs forming a circle around it.
If I had to guess, there are probably about fifty people here, a little more than I thought, but because he has so much room, it’s not stifling like a club, so I think Georgia will be okay.
“There are a lot of people here,” she says, mimicking my thoughts.
“They’re spread out, though. Let’s go find Carter to say hi, and then get drinks.”
She nods, her hand tightening in mine.
“Hey, man.” Carter extends his hand to fist bump me. “Nice to see you again, Georgia. Mi casa is your casa. Drinks are on the patio in the fridge and on the counters… food’s cooking. You can also grab something to grill over the bonfire.”
“Thank you,” Georgia says politely.
“Of course,” Carter says back with a smile.
We stop at the drink area and since I’m driving I grab a Gatorade. Georgia shocks me when she goes with a Mike’s Hard Lemonade.
“I’m hoping a little alcohol will help with my nerves,” she admits.
“Hot dog?” I point at the food.
“Yeah, can we grill it on the fire?” she asks, her face lighting up.
I chuckle. “Of course.”
I pile a couple dogs on one plate and the ingredients to make s’mores on another so I won’t have to come back up. Georgia makes us a plate of sides, and then we head down to the beach.
It’s a nice night out, with only just enough breeze to make it cool and comfortable. We find two open seats and get situated. Thomas is sitting next to us with his wife in his lap. They must’ve gotten a babysitter because I don’t see either of their kids running around.
