Loving Chase: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Novel

by Tania De Melo

  “Save those for later, sweetheart.”

  When I wake up, the sun’s way too bright, and my head’s pounding hard. I roll over to look at the alarm clock and fall into a tangled mass of red.

  Huh, why don’t I remember that? Well, now I know why I have the hangover—way too many last night.

  I turn back, throwing my legs over the side. I’m not quiet getting out of bed, not that I’m trying to be because Miss redhead has already overstayed her welcome. I start to head to my bathroom but stop before making my way in. Nope, I can see how that’s

  going to play out, and as I said, Miss redhead needs to go home.

  I grab a towel and make my way to the guest bathroom down the hall from my brother. When I pass his bedroom, I can hear the television. Wondering what he got up to with his new bestie last night, I walk over and open the door.

  Well, holy shit!

  “Wow, now this I did not expect.”

  “Excuse me?” Velyn looks up from the chessboard in front of her.

  I move in, standing a few feet away. “I said, I didn’t expect this.”

  “Expect what?” she questions a little confused. Laughing, I look around the room, but my little brother’s nowhere in sight. “If you’re looking for Chase, he went to grab us coffee downstairs.”

  “Well, how chivalrous of him. Apparently, I’m going to have to explain to my brother how one-nighter’s work.”

  She gasps, and that fierce look I saw in the Quad the other day replaces the one, that just seconds ago, wasn’t about to kill me. “I know what you’re implying and let me reassure you, that’s not what this is.”

  I wave her off. “Listen, you think just because Chase is all innocent and shit that he’s going to fall for your BS, that he’ll buy you expensive crap, and oh, I don’t know, marry you one day; set you up all nice and pretty. Well, G.D., you’re way off.”

  She’s a-fumin’. “G.D.?”

  “Gold-digger,” I reply.

  Her face just went from angry to nuclear. “I can’t begin to fathom how the two of you are even related. You're a misogynistic, egomaniacal, dickflick. You have no idea of the definition of decency because it’s only a word people beneath you need to know. Well, guess what, you asinine dipshit. Best relish the glory that is your pedestal because history has proven that there’s only one way you go from the top, and your time’s fast approaching.”

  She grabs her purse off the dresser, storming past me and almost knocking Chase over on her way out.

  “What the hell did you do?” he asks, standing there with two mugs of coffee in his hand.

  I shrug. “I did you a favor. Bro, you can’t let these girls think they have a chance with you. They’ll just keep coming back, and you’ll never be rid of them.”

  Now Chase’s face is matching Velyn’s. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? She. Is. My. Friend. I told you she doesn’t like parties. When she got here, we mingled for a bit but I could tell she was uncomfortable, so we came up here. She saw the chessboard and wanted to learn how to play. It got late, and with where she lives, I didn’t want her to drive at night, so I told her to crash here and leave in the morning. I slept in the spare room.” He lets out a sigh. “You know, Dylan, not every woman’s my mom. I warned you not to wreck this for me. Velyn’s my friend, or at least she was, she probably won’t even talk to me now, so thank you for that, big brother. Kudos to you as you have managed to drive yet another woman out of our lives.”

  Chase rushes down the hall, I’m assuming after her. He’s never hit me with a low-blow like that; I guess I’ve really pissed him off this time. Whatever! Chase just needs to blow off some steam, and then once he does, it’ll be as clear as day. He’ll see I’m right and finally see her for what she is; what they all are—disposable.

  Chapter 4

  Velyn

  “You’re sure you don’t hate me, and you still want to be friends?”

  I’ve been sitting beside Chase in Econ for the past thirty minutes, trying to reassure him that I won’t just abandon our friendship because of his asshat of a brother who has no filter and could use a lesson or two in ethical reform.

  “Chase, I promise you, unless for some ungodly reason you start acting like Dylan, you’ll remain in my good books, and we’ll forever be friends; just no more hangouts at your place, okay?”

  He lets out a relieved sigh—apparently, that time did it. “Deal, and no worries about me turning into my brother, whatever ego I may have developed in childhood, he stripped me of long ago.”

  Laughing at the thought, I mention, “I’ve never met anyone so—”

  “Self-involved? Yeah, not many people have. We have my father to thank for that,” Chase says.

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs. “I guess you can say he hasn’t had the best of luck when it comes to women; my father that is. Dylan’s mom, before she passed away, apparently didn’t believe in monogamy. Dylan has no memory of her seeing as how he was only three when she died, but our father’s done a good job to give him quite the insight into who she was, or at least his version.”

  “You don’t share a mother?”

  Chase shakes his head. “Nah. Actually, my mother, in a sense, was worse. She led our father to believe she was this all-loving and saintly woman, but in the end she wasn’t. She abandoned us when I was just a few months old, but not before clearing out what she could get her hands on, and that, Dylan does remember. He was five, and I know for a fact that her leaving us played a big part in how he treats women.”

  I feel a slight pang of guilt at my harsh judgment of Dylan. I never considered there might be a reason for how he acts. Then again, he’s a grown-ass man who needs to get over his mommy issues.

  “Still, it’s no excuse. You’ve lived the same life he has, and you don’t conduct yourself that way. It’s honestly repulsive, Chase.”

  “I know, and I don’t want it to seem like I’m apologizing for him, or in any way saying that how he acts or the things he says are okay. But, honestly, it’s not who he is…not really. No one, and I mean no one, sees the Dylan I see. The real Dylan—my brother. Honestly, Vel, if you got to see that part of him, the part he hides from everyone, then you’d understand and see that he’s really a good guy.”

  I’m skeptical about giving any real consideration to what he’s saying. But when I look to Chase, his boyish innocence still so raw, I can see that he believes his brother's decent in his own way and even has hope that one day Dylan will let others see it too.

  I let out a breath. “Enough about your brother, we need to start paying attention to this lecture.”

  Chase lifts a small recorder from his tabletop. “We’re good.”

  “Huh, why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Your cell will do the same thing; just put it on record,” he mentions.

  I reach down to my bag, pulling out my phone, and hand it to him. He looks it over, then looks to me. “Uh, I didn’t think they made these anymore.”

  “It was my mom’s.”

  “Did she get a new one?”

  “No, she passed away a few years back.”

  He nods. “Ah, I see. You’re keeping it for sentimental reasons.”

  “No, more like fiscally responsible ones. Those plans cost a lot, and I only need this if my father needs to get a hold of me.”

  “Hmm. So, no texting or sending random meme’s then?”

  “Um, yeah, no…on both. It was either a full data package or barely functioning internet, and with school, I thought the internet was a better choice.”

  “I’d have to agree.” Chase picks the recorder off his desk, placing it on mine. “You can have this one; I can use my phone.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s yours, I couldn’t.”

  Chase chuckles. “Actually, it’s Dylan’s. Consider it audial retribution for the way he spoke to you.”

  I let out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll borrow it just until I save up for one of my own.” />
  “Deal.”

  It’s late when I enter the apartment. I added an extra course to my schedule after feeling out the first week, so it has me on campus late twice a week. I’mtired, and all I really want to do is fall into bed. Then I hear it; the sound of my father getting sick—I guess bed will have to wait. Usually, he’s passed out cold by this time—it must have been a hard day for him. Then I remember.

  Today would’ve been their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary; I’m such an idiot. How could I forget that? I knew this one was going to be especially hard for him. I’d even made a mental note to try and get him out of the house to avoid this exact thing—him drinking himself even further into a stupor.

  Throwing my bag on the little entrance table, I head to the bathroom. “Daddy, are you okay?” There’s no real response, just a groan. “I’m going to get you some water.”

  He grabs my hand before I step away. “I’m sorry.”

  There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s sorry, it’s in his eyes, the disappointment he has in himself and the guilt he carries for letting me down—for letting my mother down. I want so desperately to fix him and take away all his pain, but I can’t. He has to want to do it himself; my sessions with the therapist I had when all this started taught me that. All I can do

  now is hope; hope that someday he wants to live life enough to make the change.

  “I know. I’ll be right back, and then we’re going to get you cleaned up and in bed.”

  As I’m heading toward the kitchen, there’s a knock at the door.

  Ugh, definitely not the best time.

  When I open the door, my elderly landlord greets me with a smile. “Velyn, dear, how are you?”

  “I’m well, Mr. Volpe, and yourself?”

  He waves me off. “Good, good. Marta feeds me well. Tells me I need more chicken.”

  I let out a laugh, but then remember that my father is still laid out in the bathroom. “What brings you by, Mr. Volpe?”

  His look becomes sympathetic. “Cara, I come by for rent and look under the carpet like you say, but it wasn’t there.”

  I shake my head. “Mr. Volpe, I prom—”

  “Ascoltare,” he interrupts in his thick Italian accent. “I clean the floor by elevator, and your father, he come in with drinks. Bottles and bottles of drinks.”

  My heart sinks, and dread takes over at the realization of what he’s telling me.

  No, please, no.

  I look to my landlord, tears brimming at my eyes, but I don’t care.

  “Mr. Volpe, I’ll have to get back to you.” He offers a nod of understanding and backs away from the door as I shut it.

  I head to my father with the heavy weight of what he’s done hanging over me. When I reach him, he’s propped himself up against the tub, head resting on his bent knees and his hands cupping the back of his head.

  “Dad.” He looks up, his expression changing as he sees the tears in my eyes. “Dad, please tell me you didn’t use the rent money to buy alcohol?”

  He looks to the floor with no affirmation or denial, but I don’t need one. His head hanging low tells me all I need to know.

  In the morning, I stopped by to speak with Mr. Volpe, and he assured me that he understood and is allowing me to pay this month’s rent in installments until I’m caught back up. Thankful and beyond grateful, I now need to figure out how to make up that extra money; my budget’s tight already.

  When I arrive at the diner, Joan’s behind the counter singing away to some song playing on the radio.

  “Sorry, we’re not quite open yet,” she sing-songs to the beat of the music.

  “It’s just me.”

  She looks up, then reaches over to turn down the volume. “Vel, why are you here so early? Wait, you’re not even scheduled to work today.”

  I let out a breath preparing for the lecture I know I’m about to get. “I need to ask for more hours. Actually, I need as many as you can give me.”

  Joan remains quiet for a moment, then speaks. “You know it’s not going to change. Velyn, he’s a broken man. A man so broken he doesn’t even see what he’s doing to his daughter.”

  “What can I do? I can’t make him unbroken, and I can’t bring back the one person that could. All I can do is be there for him.”

  She holds my gaze, then nods. “What happened?”

  I move to the counter, taking a seat on one of the stools. “He used the rent money for booze. I spoke with Mr. Volpe, and he was beyond accommodating, allowing me to pay in installments. However, now I need to make that money up in my budget.”

  Joan reaches for her purse, pulling out her checkbook. “How much?”

  “No, absolutely not. This is my problem and mine alone. No handouts, Joan. All I need are the extra hours if you have them…please.”

  She lowers her purse, knowing the argument is one she won’t win. “Okay, well, Stu’s wanted to take the evenings and early mornings to work on the flooring in the house, so I could use the help with opening prep.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Velyn, that’s all late nights and then back here at four...in the morning.”

  I let out a breath, knowing I have no other options. “I know…I’ll be here. Thank you.” I may not sleep until my debt is paid, but it could be worse...a lot worse.

  Finishing my first-morning shift at the diner, I make it to class just as the prof commences her lecture. Not wanting to disrupt anyone, I take a seat at the back, but as I do, I can see Chase bobbing up and down. I know for a fact he won’t be able to focus until he knows I’m at least in the room, so when the prof asks if there are any questions about the reading last night, I raise my hand. I don’t actually have one, it was pretty straight forward, but I ask anyway.

  “Yes, I was kind of going back and forth on the second reading. I found it fairly unforgiving in terms of having to find its relevance to the others and really this whole assignment.”

  She moves closer to the front, arching to get a better look my way. “Your name?”

  I stand. “Sorry, yes, it’s Velyn Adler.”

  “Well, Miss Adler, perhaps you were reading the wrong one. I don’t think it could’ve been any clearer as to its relevance.”

  She’s right it couldn’t have been, but this is the sacrifice I make to save Chase from whiplash, which when I look his way, he offers a smile.

  Looking back to the prof, I nod. “Yes, maybe that’s it.”

  When class is done, I wait at the back as Chase makes his way over to me. “Vel, you should’ve called, or even video chatted me last night. I could’ve gone over the readings with you.” I shoot him a sardonic glare, and then the light goes on. “Oh, you didn’t really have trouble, did you?”

  Stuffing the last of my books back into my bag, I stand beside him. “No. You looked like one of those little mole’s popping in and out of a hole, so I was trying to get your attention and let you know I was here.”

  Chase shrugs and leads us out the door. “I was worried; you’re always on time.”

  We make our way down the hall and through the quad. “I took an early morning shift at the diner for some extra hours.”

  He stops, resting his hand on my arm. “Vel, you don’t need to buy a new recorder right away. There’s no rush. Dylan doesn’t even use it. He probably doesn’t even know it’s gone.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that, but it’s not just the recorder I need money for. Something came up and I need to pad my budget a little. It’s not permanent, just for a while until I have enough.”

  Chase nods, continuing, “I won’t offer my help because I know you’ll just refuse it, but know that I’m here if you need anything.”

  I can’t explain how much this kid surprises me every day with who he is. “Thanks, Chase.”

  “No problem. Oh, and I’ll be sure to sit in the back from now on and save you a seat. That way, you don’t have to come up with ridiculous questions just to get my attention.”

  I snort. �
�She must wonder how I even got into her class. If she hasn’t already gone to administration to check my record, she’s definitely flagging me in her little book.”

  We continue through the quad laughing as Chase describes the faces of the people in the class, then as we round the path, we spot Dylan there with his entourage.

  “Well, well, well. Whom do we have here? Is it my little brother and the old ball and chain?”

  “Knock it off, Dylan.”

  Dylan stands tall with his arms crossed firmly over his chest. “Just making an observation.”

  “An unnecessary one,” Chase replies.

  Almost like in a standoff, Dylan and I lock eyes—neither of us showing any sign of giving in before the other.

  “Okay, Dyl, man, as interesting as this is, we have places to be and far more interesting people to be there with,” his little sidekick let out. Although I find douche number two just as deplorable as Dylan, I do welcome the interjection.

  I turn to Chase and smile. “I’m going to head out—I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Yep, I’ll video message you when I get home.”

  I nod and walk off, not wanting to be around Dylan and his testosterone exuding minions any longer. However, my refuge is cut short when the space alongside me quickly fills.

  “I don’t get it.”

  Not stopping but actually speeding it up a little, I ask, “Get what, Dylan?”

  “The two of you. You’re aware he’s only seventeen, right?”

  I pause, only momentarily to glare at him then continue walking. “Fully aware, and I don’t see how that’s an issue; we’re friends—only friends.”

  “Yeah, see, I have a hard time swallowing that. Guys and chicks can’t be friends.”

  I come to a halt, shaking my head at his idiocy. “Yep, still baffles me how you two are brothers. Look, I don’t have the time, nor do I care to try and explain to you the intricacies of true friendship because, well, it’s obvious you’ve never had one. But know this; your brother and I are friends. I’m sorry you can’t wrap your thick head around it, but that there’s a you problem and not one I care to help you try and figure out. So as much as I appreciate your unsubstantiated and barely-there concern for the welfare of your brother, I really do have to get going.”