I pause.
Am I really gonna say it?
“His mom had married my dad earlier that year,” I say, waiting for the look of disgust to register on her face.
But it doesn’t.
“He was my stepbrother, Gabby,” I say.
“Wow, so, complicated, huh?” Gabby says.
“You’re telling me,” I reply.
“But nothing happened between you that summer, right? I thought he was the one who got away?”
“Things nearly happened,” I say. “We couldn’t control it. We were teenagers. All those hormones. It felt inevitable. But he took off. ‘I can’t do this,’ he said, and the next morning he was gone, just like that. I never saw him again.”
“So, he’s not your stepbrother anymore?” Gabby says, trying to piece the story together.
“No,” I sigh. “Cassie, I mean, Chase’s mom … She had an affair. She left him that same winter. They were married for less than nine months in total. Dad was worried about Chase. He liked him. Didn’t want him to go off the rails. But Chase was eighteen when he took off. He was an adult. So there was nothing Dad could do. I think he tried to look for him a couple of times over the years … Before he died, of course.”
Gabby remains silent and lets me talk.
“I just … Why did he do it, Gabby? Why did he run away and leave me like that? I cried the whole rest of the summer you know. I pretended I had mono so I didn’t need to leave my room. Ten whole years without any answers. And then I find him! And he’s right here in New York! And still, he can’t give me an answer, and he just takes off again. What’s wrong with me?”
“Oh, sweetie,” Gabby says consolingly. “Nothing is wrong with you. But you said he was eighteen when all this happened, right?”
“Yeah, seventeen going on eighteen,” I reply.
“Sounds like it must have been quite scary for him?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Charity. He was nearly legally an adult. And you were his new kid sister. He was put in an unnatural situation he couldn’t control. And what could have happened if he’d stayed? Really?”
“I guess I’d never really thought about it like that,” I sigh.
“You say your dad liked him? And you’ve also told me he was a bad boy. What if your dad had found out? He’d have kicked him out faster than he’d left himself, that’s for sure.”
“Oh yeah,” I smile. “Dad would have kicked his ass.”
I know this is gonna sound stupid, but all the time I’ve devoted over the years to thinking about what happened that summer, I never stopped to think about it from Chase’s point of view.
The poor kid had been bounced from State to State his entire life, never staying longer than a few months in one place. Maybe he thought things were finally going to settle down when Cassie met my dad. Maybe he thought he had a family he could try and be a part of.
And then I show up, and what happens between us is inevitable. Of course we’d have ended up getting caught. And he’s left with the choice of either ruining everything, or just getting the hell out of there.
I think if I’d been in his position, I’d have done exactly the same thing.
And with that, finally, after all these years, I forgive him.
I forgive him for being a scared teenager. For making the decision to run.
Chase Parker, the man the boy became, is never going to be the one for me. He’s never going to stop running from the past. But I can make my peace with it now. And finally move on.
“So, if we’re all in agreement, gentlemen,” I say, “I’ll have the contracts drawn up and sent over to you tomorrow morning. I think this is going to be a great fit for you guys …”
I stand up and shake each of their hands in turn.
“Bill, Hank,” I add. “I’m looking forward to working with you both.”
Bill and Hank, the multi-millionaire heirs to a fast food packaging fortune, remain practically silent. They keep their cards close to their chests.
This is my favorite part of the job. Booking new clients in this business is like fishing, and I’ve just landed myself a whale.
I see the two men out of the door of the dimly lit cocktail bar, then head back inside to settle up the bill.
I wince slightly when I look at the check. That bottle of Michter’s celebration whiskey set me back a cool three grand alone. Guys like Bill and Hank wouldn’t bat an eyelid at spending that kind of money, but a kid from the wrong side of the tracks like me? I can’t help but marvel at the fact that my card won’t be declined as I hand it over. Still, it was worth it.
I’m on my way out the door when I hear a voice, calling me.
“Chase Parker?”
I look up. It’s Lance Freidrickson, an old buddy from my time back at Morgan Stanley.
“It’s been, what, four years?” he calls over to me. “I heard you’d struck out on your own! How’s business? Wish I had the guts to do that myself, but I’m a company man, through and through. They’ll have to print Morgan Stanley on my coffin …”
And I laugh, about to reply as I approach his table. But as I take another step towards him, turning the corner, the other side of his booth becomes visible and I stop dead in my tracks.
“So, old buddy,” Lance continues. “It’s really good to see you. How are you?”
He’s looking up at me, waiting for me to speak. But how can I? What can I say, when he’s sitting there with her?
“Forgive me, I’m so rude,” he laughs. “Chase? This is my date, Charity. Charity Lindley, this is Chase Parker.”
“Pleased to meet you,” I say quietly, trying to meet her eyes. But she’s doing everything she can to avoid looking at me.
“You too,” she says, without taking her eyes off Lance, not even for a second, as if to make clear that he’s the most important thing in the world to her right now.
Really? Lance Friedrickson is what Charity wants? Am I really gonna lose her to him?
“Listen,” Lance continues, his friendly tone making me wonder if the tension I can feel between us is all in my head. “We’ve just had some dinner and we were gonna order another drink before calling it a night. But you should join us! Fill Charity in on the kinds of crazy stunts we used to pull in the office. ”
“No, no, really, I wouldn’t want to interrupt,” I say, shaking my head and backing away from the table.
I want to scream, to grab Charity by the shoulders and tell her she’s got to come with me, right this second. But I can’t make a scene. And anyway, it’s clear that she doesn’t want me anywhere near her.
But Lance is insistent. He’s not going to let me get out of here. Before I can make my excuses, he’s called over a waiter to bring an extra chair and the drinks menu. I have no choice. I sit down.
“So, Lance,” I say, “what have you been up to all these years?”
I might be talking to Lance, but my eyes are fixed firmly on Charity.
And finally she’s looking at me, too, and I can tell she’s furious.
“Well,” Lance says obliviously, “working my way up the old corporate ladder at Morgan Stanley. But luckily, I’ve found time to take this beautiful woman out tonight. And she’s not just a pretty face, you know? She’s studying for a PhD, too.”
“A scholar?” I say to Charity. “You must spend a lot of time in the library.”
She smiles a cruel smile. I just want her to recognize that we know each other. To give me some clue that the connection we once had isn’t lost forever. But she obviously thinks I’m just toying with her.
“Yes, the library,” she snaps back. “You should really give it a go sometime, if your reading abilities are up to scratch, that is ...”
Ouch, I think.
I can’t believe she’s bringing that up. I supposed I deserve it, though. Still, it’s a harsh thing to say, and in the circumstances, even more so.
Lance picks up on it, too.
“Woah, where did
that come from?” he laughs, uneasily.
I try to lighten the mood.
“So where did you meet such a beautiful and talented young woman?” I say to Lance. “I mean, you don’t spend much time in libraries either!”
But before he can even respond, she cuts in. “Ok Cupid, actually. I’m trying to move on from some asshole who broke my heart.”
Wow. If I thought she was being vicious before, she’s really done it this time.
And Lance is totally baffled by her behavior.
He tries to laugh, but it’s obvious he’s not finding any of this funny.
“We can’t all have your luck with women, Chase,” he murmurs. “Some of us have to turn to the old internet in our search for true love ...”
I feel sorry for him, so I say, “Well, Charity, you can take my word for it. Lance is a good guy.”
Suddenly, she gets to her feet.
“If you think he’s a good guy,” she says, staring at me, “then he must be an even bigger prick than I already thought.”
She grabs her bag.
“Goodnight, Lance. Thanks for dinner. Don’t call me again.”
Then she pushes past me, storming out towards the exit.
“What the hell do you think got into her?” Lance says, shaking his head in confusion.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have come here, I probably spoiled your date.”
“Forget about it,” Lance laughs. “She was a total cold fish anyway. I was never gonna get a fuck tonight. It was a waste of time, and a waste of money. At least now we can have a proper catch up, just us guys.”
All I want to do right now is run after her. I feel like it’s taking all of my strength just to remain in my seat. I want so badly to run after her, to take her in my arms, to apologize over and over again.
There must be something I can do to make her hear my words, to make her understand just how much I regret the way I’ve behaved. Everything I’ve ever done.
But I’ve messed up. I’ve gone too far. And I have to respect her decision. I don’t deserve her goodness.
The Charity I saw tonight, with her barbed comments and her eyes flashing with anger – that’s the one I deserve.
And while all these thoughts whir around my head, Lance just keeps on talking. Luckily he’s such a self-absorbed asshole, he hasn’t noticed that I’m not really listening to him (let alone the fact that Charity’s little scene tonight was obviously about me and not him). So I just nod along to whatever he’s saying as I curse myself, wishing there was some way I could turn back time and do this all so differently.
Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him.
That’s all I can think as I storm down the street, away from the bar.
How dare he? Does he think he owns me or something? I’ve been searching for him for eleven years. Eleven years I’ve waited for answers. I’ve kept my life on hold for eleven years because of him.
And then, just as soon as I finally move on, as I make peace with who he is and decide to get on with my life, to find true love, not whatever the hell it was I had with Chase, just then, of course, he turns up. Of course now he won’t let me go.
How did he even know where I was tonight?
He’s probably paid somebody to follow me. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I had the whole of the internet to choose from, and then any bar in New York. And I still manage to pull a needle out of a haystack. An old buddy of Chase’s.
What’s your problem, Fate? What did I do to piss you off? What did I do to deserve this great cosmic joke?
I throw out my arm to flag down a passing taxi, but the driver doesn’t see me and it races on down the street away from me.
God damn it, I think, feeling the anger rise up inside me.
I guess I’ll just have to walk; it’ll probably do me good anyway. I need to walk this off — my anger, my frustration.
I wish I could be left alone with my anger, but typical in this city, even at this time of night, the streets are thronged with people; people I have to weave in and out of.
My mind casts back to the exhilaration I felt on the back of Chase’s motorbike. The freedom of that open, empty road. The way my cares and worries seemed to just dissolve, as we rode away from the city and into the beauty of the countryside, where the sky was filled with stars.
Why does he deserve all that beauty?
He probably conned his way up the corporate ladder, and now he’s got the money to buy freedom.
I don’t even have the luxury of going home to cry on my own. Gabby will definitely hear me through the paper-thin walls our apartment, not to mention everyone else who lives in the building, too.
I thought I’d let go of everything. Of all the pain that Chase has put me through. But seeing him tonight has made me realize that I’m not over just how unfair this all is.
He can abandon me like so much rubbish. And he’s still the one with everything. All he does is take.
So, why don’t I take a leaf out of his book?
I should learn from him.
Being Little Miss Goody Two-Shoes has got me nowhere in this world.
Maybe it’s time I had a little fun.
Maybe it’s time to be a bad girl, for once …
Just one more kilometer.
I’ve been pushing myself harder and harder at the gym, these last few days. But I know what I’m really doing.
If can run far enough, maybe I can out-run the memory of her. But she always seems to be just around the corner.
If only I could make her understand. If only she would listen to me.
But the way she looked at me, in the bar the other night? I know I’ve blown it.
And I know I deserve it. Or rather, that I don’t deserve her.
God damn it. I wish I had more practice at this. Other guys would know what to do. Other guys have practiced those corny romantic gestures.
But is that even what a girl like Charity wants?
I mean, sure, Aubrey Grant would come running back to me after what I did to her if I sent her a dozen red roses. But Charity means more to me than a stupid gesture like that.
Maybe I should just go find her again; wait for her outside her college, or find out where she lives … But she made it so clear she didn’t want to see me again, I feel like I have to respect her decision.
I push the thoughts from my head, as I push my body even harder on the running machine, hitting my target and running through it.
Just one more kilometer.
I watch myself in the mirror as I run, the sweat running down my face, my body straining, as I push myself, harder and harder, trying to out-run my thoughts … My feelings …
Just then, I hear my cellphone chime from its resting place on the running machine controls in front of me. And I’m about to ignore it – but then I glance down at the glowing display: Charity.
Without breaking my stride, I pick up the phone and read the message:
Hey Chase. I guess I never thanked you. I’d waited so long to ride on the back of a motorbike, and now I’ve got a taste for it. You’ve been a great teacher. ;-)
The message throws me off my pace, and I have to quickly slow down the machine to a stop, then read it all over again. And again. And again.
Teacher? What the hell is she implying?
I can’t help it. I get the feeling that she’s playing some sort of game with me — messing with my head.
And I know I should just ignore her, not give her what she wants. But I’d been so desperate for her to reach out to me, and I reply before I can stop myself:
Charity, we need to talk. Where are you?
I stare at the display of the phone, willing it to bring me more news of her, each second feeling like an eternity, as the sweat cools on my brow and I slowly catch my breath.
And after a few more moments waiting, I decide to take a shower. I feel like I’ll just go mad if I stay here, staring at my phone like this.
Sure enough, as soo
n as I’ve finished, I towel myself down, then check my phone to discover another message:
Wouldn’t you like to know?
And this time, it’s accompanied by a photo, too. A selfie of Charity, an empty shot glass in her hand. She must be in a bar — and sure enough, I can see beer bottles on tables in the background. And she’s smiling, her eyes flashing out of the picture at me with a mischievous glee. She looks like she’s wearing a tiny, sleeveless vest and more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear before.
She’s obviously looking for some attention.
This isn’t the Charity I know. This is the exact same kind of behavior I’d expect from any one of those spoiled brats I meet every day in this city.
I expected more from her. Maybe she isn’t worth it after all. But she does deserve an explanation from me still, so I text back:
Listen. I’m sorry about everything. There’s plenty of beer at my place. So if you’re drinking, why not come round here and we can talk?
The next response comes quickly, just moments later. And when it does, I wish it hadn’t:
Sorry honey! Busy with my new friend.
And again, it’s accompanied by a photo of Charity. Only this time, she’s not alone. This time, she has her arm slung around a burly, bearded biker guy. He’s leering at her with a filthy look in his eyes, his mouth curled into a grin, while again she stares out at me from the photo, taunting me.
What are you doing, Charity? I know this isn’t what you want …
And I feel a cold rush of dread as I realize that this isn’t the selfish behavior of some spoiled brat. It’s the pain of a girl who’s been hurt badly. And I’m the one who caused that hurt.
I rejected her so cruelly, not once but twice.
No wonder she’s behaving like this.
I know Charity. She always sees the best in people. And I don’t think she knows just how dangerous a situation like this can be for a girl like her. She can’t see the filthy look in that guy’s eyes — especially when he’s plying her with shot after shot of alcohol.
Claiming Chase: (A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance) Page 10
