by Dee Lagasse
“Shiiiiiit,” Travis laughs when I stand in front of the four of them, with arms crossed. “You didn’t think this angry punk rock thing over very well, Merrimack. She’s little, but damn it, she scares me.”
As my favorite band blasts in the background, I remind them that I am twenty-eight years old and I do not need them trying to interfere every time I look in the general direction of anything with a penis. Two minutes go by and Troy cracks a joke about needing to slow things back down “after that one” from the stage. An Ed Sheeran song begins to fill the room as I turn to walk away. Though I had planned on tearing into Chase, the truth was I couldn’t. I knew in my very core that if I got into it with him, even here in a room full of hundreds of people, I would end up crying. And that is not something I am about to let happen tonight.
I only get a few steps away before he grabs my hand, his touch causing me to freeze in place. As much as I would love to act like I’m this tough, give no fucks kind of girl with no feelings, the truth is, he’s my weakness. Chase Merrimack is my kryptonite. Especially Chase Merrimack dressed like a freakin’ pirate. He knew exactly what he was doing dressing like that tonight. He knows about my childhood dream, and how ridiculously obsessed with Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean I am.
“Chase, please,” I beg, knowing that the second I’m in his arms, I’m done for. “I can’t do this.”
“Just one song,” he pleads. “Please. Dance with me, Hurricane.”
As if I really had a choice. I wrap my fingers around his and let him lead me onto the dance floor. As I start to pull away, “Let It Be Me,” the same Ray LaMontagne song that we danced to at Kinley and Davis’s wedding begins to play, and I feel myself melt into him once again. As he sings the lyrics softly next to my head, goose bumps start from the tip of my fingers and creep up my arm. With that, as quickly as I was sucked into the moment with him, I snap back to reality. I can't believe I lost sight of the fact that he reassured me over and over that what we were doing meant more than just the sex we were having, and then, he left me. He left me with a shattered heart and then disappeared for days, with not so much as a phone call.
“Excuse me,” I say, pulling my hand out of his, stepping back. “I suddenly would like to go home.”
“What? If you think anyone in this room is going to let you leave with the amount you’ve drank tonight, you're out of your damn mind. I'll bring you home, if that's what you really want. But there is no way you're driving-,” he pauses like he's waiting for me to respond, and finishes, “-or walking by yourself.”
“Ooookay. Whatever you say, Merrimack. Can you please move now? I'll find my new friend Deacon, and I'll ask him to bring me home or maybe, I'll just spend the night with him. I don’t think he’d mind having the company in bed tonight,” I snap back, flashing a fake, malicious smile at Chase.
There’s no way I would leave with Deacon, but I also know that making any kind of impression that I intend on going home with anyone else is going to get under his skin—especially given the first thing he said to me tonight was “don’t go home with him,” wherever that came from. Right now, I'm not sure if I'm just looking to get a reaction out of Chase or if I honestly want him to think I would leave with someone else.
Shaking his head, as if he’s unfazed by my empty threat, he chuckles, “Yeah, hate to burst that drunken little bubble of yours, little girl, but it'll be a cold day in hell when I let that happen either.”
Turning away from me, like he’s about to walk away from me, he pauses and then shakes his head. What I wouldn’t give to be able to read his thoughts right now. There’s no time to wonder about what could possibly be going through his mind, because without so much as a warning, he turns back around, walks back over to where I am still standing and picks me up, all but tossing me over his shoulder.
Walking us over to the table my dad, uncles, and grandfathers are sitting at, I hear laughter from the table of men that I assumed would tell him to cut the shit. Instead, Chase tells them all that I have decided I would like to go home, but since I have had “five too many drinks tonight,” he will be bringing me to his house for the night.
My father stands up from the table, pats him on his empty shoulder, and thanks him for “always looking out for his favorite girl.”
He. Fucking. Pats. Him. On. The. Shoulder.
I am his only daughter, slung over someone’s shoulder, being carried like a fucking cavewoman, and my father THANKS HIM AND PATS HIM ON THE FUCKING SHOULDER.
“Daddy! Are you serious, right now?” I yell back when Chase turns and makes his way toward the exit. “CHASE MATTHEW MERRIMACK. Put my ass down.”
The entire room is watching as Chase continually shakes his head and makes his way across the room. The time for worrying about causing a scene has passed, as I kick and scream for him to put me down like an angry child not getting their way. I don't even have to see his face to know he has a shit-eating grin on it. Bastard thinks he’s won this round.
Ellis, Kinley, and Cole laugh and wave as we walk past them at the cupcake table. When we pass the bar, Davis, Tucker, Travis, and Kenny shake their heads as if they’re amused, but not in the least bit surprised by what is going on right now. Mischa grabs his arm, asking to text her when he gets home. My Aunt Grace and Zia Kat chime in with, “us toos” and Chase assures them they’ll each get a text, but not one of those assholes step in. Not one of them tell him to put me down.
Through the lobby and the parking lot, Chase still carries me. Unlocking his truck with the key fob, he uses his free hand to open the door and plops me in the passenger seat. Realizing that my entire family and our friends think this is some big joke and that fighting with him is pointless, I cross my arms, pissed, but accepting the situation. Giving me a once over, Chase shuts the door, and I pretend not to watch him as he walks around the front of the truck.
Putting the keys in the ignition, he starts the truck and looks over to me and says, “Put your seatbelt on.”
Ripping the belt from the seat behind me, I whip it over my front and click it into the belt. “Just so you know, I put it on because I don’t want to die, not because you told me to.”
A booming, hearty laugh erupts from Chase’s lips and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to smile in response.
“You stubborn little shit,” he chuckles as he puts the truck into reverse and backs up out of the parking space. “You are going to give me a stroke or a heart attack or a combination of both one day. I hope you realize this.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
CHase
The silent treatment. That’s her next move.
And sure enough, there isn’t a word spoken between the two of us the entire fifteen minutes it takes to get from the hotel to my house. As soon as I put the truck in park, she unbuckles her seatbelt and lets herself into my house. Without so much as peep, she heads straight up to the guest room.
Not bothering to shut the door, she opens the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulls out a small pair of shorts and an old t-shirt that she must have left here when she was staying over. With her back to the door, she unsnaps the seashell bra, dropping it to the floor without a second thought. Pulling the gray t-shirt over her head, next comes the sandals. Kicking them off with as much care as the bra, I brace myself as she reaches behind and unzips the green sequined mermaid tail skirt.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I should leave…that I should walk away, go to my own room, shut the door, let her sleep by herself, and we can have the conversation I’ve been wanting to have all night, tomorrow. But no matter what I say in my head, trying to convince myself to walk away from her, I can’t bring my legs to move. Especially as she shimmies out of the skirt and stands there in the smallest white panties and her t-shirt.
“Fuck.”
Muttering under my breath, I fight everything reason is telling me to do and walk over to her. She still doesn’t say anything, but finally acknowledges me by raising her eyebrows,
unimpressed by my presence.
“Will you talk to me?” I beg, standing in front of her. “Hollis, please.”
“And say what, Chase?” she asks, really looking at me for the first time since we left the hotel. “What the fuck do you want me to say? That I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that I meant more to you than every other girl you’ve fucked? That I thought, if nothing else, our friendship meant more to you? I fucking trusted you. I gave you all of me, Chase. And you broke my fucking heart. You left me. Dammit Chase, you left me.”
Faster than I can catch them, tears stream down her face. I’ve seen it too many times, this look of hurt and betrayal on Hollis’s face, but it’s never been my fault. I’ve always been the one there to fix it. And I can’t. All I can do is give her the explanation she deserves and hope that she’ll still want me when I’m done.
Taking her hand, I bring her over to the bed, where she sits on the edge. Wiping away the tears, she says something about being a hot mess and needing to wash her face before she stands up again and begins walking out of the room.
“Do you know when I knew you were different from every other girl I’d ever met?” I ask, not expecting a response, just hoping to get her stop and give me her attention long enough to explain myself.
“Chase…” she tries to cut me off, but I keep going, knowing she needs to hear what I was about to say.
“You came over after school one night to help me with a project. I remember my mom was so surprised, because you know, you weren’t the normal type of girl I usually brought by the house. And by that, I mean, you were classy, respectful, polite…”
“Anyway,” I continue, “I was trying to convince you to just do it for me. Hell, it worked on girls before. I figured it was worth a shot. Until you looked me dead in the face and said, ‘You might be able to play dumb with all the other girls, but not me. You’re smart enough. Stop being lazy and just fucking do it.’”
“It was an English project,” she confirms, knowing exactly what I’m talking about. “On Jane Austen.”
“It was the English project, then it was Thanksgiving when we were going to eat alone, and then when my dad bailed on me and Tuck for Christmas and you and your whole family made us feel like we belonged with you guys. Your aunt is my mom’s best friend. Your dad and your uncles protected us like we were their own. I thought about going back to Washington after I left the NFL, and even though I applied for the open coaching position at LSU, I could never leave Abbott Hills. I could never leave you. You, Hollis. You are my home. Wherever you are, that’s where I need to be.”
“But, you did leave,” she repeats, not as a question, but as a statement.
“You’re right,” I shrug, “I left. I left you and all the promises we made to each other in the mountains behind that morning because it scared me. And I have no explanation other than in my head, I was saving you from the bullshit of being with me. I’ve never done serious, Hol. And who are you supposed to turn to when I piss you off? I do that enough as your friend, never mind something more than that. What if I can’t love you the way you deserve? What if we do this, and you realize that I’m not the kind of man that you want to be with for the rest of your life? You told me over and over that night that this changes everything, that we can’t go back once we start something like this. What if I lose you, Hol? What if we-”
“What if we have the most epic fucking love story in the history of love stories?” she counters. “What if we spend the rest of our lives being stupidly happy because we’re together? What if there is no one else on this Earth that will love you, unconditionally, the way that I love you, Chase? Huh? So, that’s all this was? It wasn’t me or something I did, but the fear that we could lose something so fucking incredible before it even happens?”
Making her way back over to where I am sitting on the bed, her intent to go wash her wash is long forgotten about. The purpose and intent in her walk give me so much hope. If we can fix this, if I can get her to just see that I was a fucking idiot, I can finally breathe again.
“Chase, I’ve denied it every single day before now, but I have loved you since the day you saved me from falling on my face in gym class, and I will love you for the rest of my life. If that isn’t enough for you, nothing and no one else ever will ever be.”
And with that, I know it. She’s right. The fear of losing her had sent me running, but how could I spend the rest of my life wondering about the ‘what ifs.’ Which means there’s only one thing left to do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hollis
With trembling hands, Chase places his fingers under my chin and pulls my face up so there’s nowhere to look but right at him. His bright green eyes, full of hope and adoration, search mine as if they have all the answers. When he finds the answer he’s looking for, he leans in and my already racing heart beats faster.
When his lips find mine, I pause, wanting it, wanting him, but needing the confirmation that he’s in too. Pulling back, while still in his arms, I glance up at him, ready to jump, both feet in, but before I do, I need to know he really means it this time. This cannot be a fleeting emotion. I can’t do the back and forth. I cannot relive the last week over again.
“So, we’re really going to do this, right?” I ask. “We’re going to jump?”
“I’ll jump if you jump, Hurricane,” he nods against my head, his voice just barely above a whisper.
“You can’t run from here, Chase,” I remind him, pointing around to his house. “When we wake up in the morning, I’ll still be here, and we can’t run from this. If you’re not in, one hundred percent, I need you to tell me. Right now. I need you to let me go.”
“I can’t,” he starts. “I won’t. Ever again.”
“Then, what are you waiting for?” I ask, giggling when he looks at me curiously, because I know he has no idea what I’m asking him. “Kiss me.”
And he does. Overwhelming love for the man in front of me fills me as our lips slide over one another, slowly and purposely.
“By the way,” he laughs, in between kisses. “It was super cute how jealous you got of Bethany.”
“Oh, yeah?” I shoot back, poking him in the chest. “Kind of like how you masterminded a plan to have them play Dropkick Murphys so I didn’t dance with Deacon? And your comment about ‘not going home with him.’ What was that about anyway?”
“One, that had nothing to do with whatever his name was and everything to do with knowing the way to your heart is through my mom’s blueberry pancakes and your favorite band. Since I couldn’t get you blueberry pancakes, I figured Dropkick Murphys was the next best thing,” he says. “And two, I heard you came to the gala with one of the guys from your work. I don’t know. I just thought the worst possible way tonight could end is you leaving with another guy. So, I said something.”
“There is another way to get to my heart,” I laugh, tipping my head up to kiss him.
“Oh yeah?” he mumbles against my lips. “And what’s that, Hurricane?”
“Well, you’re already dressed like a pirate, so how about you take me out on that date you promised me on my birthday?”
“Anytime, pretty girl, anytime,” he says.
“How about right now?” I ask. “You have the keys to the Abbott Hills gymnasium, right? Because, I demand a rematch. You cheated.”
“Go wash your face and put some pants on,” he laughs. “Because it’s on, rally girl.”
After we’ve both scrubbed our faces of the makeup from the gala, hand-in-hand we begin to make our way back to where it all started for us. With everything I am, I know this is it.
There are going to be good days and bad ones. But after going through the last week, I know that the bad days with Chase will still be better than the good days with anyone else.
We took the long way and every detour possible to get here, but I guess that’s how it always goes, doesn’t it?
Soulmates, they said.
Chase Merrimack and o
ur love that came without warning.
THE END.
The Capparelli & Co. gang will return Spring 2019
About the Author
Dee Lagasse is a forever 29-year-old native New Englander. Before anything else, she is the momma to three kiddos – affectionately known as The Minis. When she isn’t writing, she can be found eating cheese fries, harassing her family to reach things on the top shelf, wandering a soccer field, or fixing a cheer bow.
Facebook
Capparelli & Co. Reader Group
