by S. R. Grey
Before I open the car door, I think about a conversation I had with Chase a couple of days ago. He asked me about Cass. He wanted to know if I loved her. My reply was, “I guess.”
Chase then told me I was too young to be involved in something so serious; especially when my best answer as to whether or not I loved my girlfriend was “I guess.”
I was only being truthful with my response. Sure, I tell Cassie I love her—and a part of me does—but that wasn’t what Chase was asking.
He wanted to know if Cassie was my Kay.
And that I don’t know.
I’d like to hope she is—that’d be cool—but I kind of know deep inside she is not.
“So, why the fuck are you about to murder someone for her then?” I ask myself aloud.
I push the thought away swiftly.
“Let’s just get this done,” I murmur, opening the car door, at last.
I step out and walk up to the road.
There is not a soul in sight.
The lights in Paul’s trailer flicker shades of blue. He must be watching TV, changing the channels. Good, let him be distracted; that way I’ll get the jump on him.
Walking along the side of the road, closing in on Paul’s trailer, I review the plan. It’s simple, really.
Find Paul.
Kill Paul.
Get the fuck out of Dodge.
So if it’s so simple, why am I having doubts?
No time to think on it further. I’m at the trailer.
I hurry to the back, where I take a quick peek in a dirt-smeared window.
Paul is inside, of course. He’s sitting on a reclining chair, and, as I thought, watching TV. I remind myself that the reason he’s even home and in the trailer is because he’s expecting Cassie.
Prick. I raise the gun so the muzzle rests against the glass.
I could shoot him from here. The back of his head is facing my way, and I have a good angle.
I close one eye and aim.
And aim.
And aim again.
Shit. My hand is shaking too much. In fact, I’m shaking so much that the gun tap-tap-taps at the window before I can steady my arm enough to lower it to my side.
And now I am fucked.
“What the hell was that?” Paul bellows from inside the trailer.
Fear overtakes me. It consumes me. I absolutely cannot do this. I’m out of my league here. I am not a killer. Cass and I will have to find another way to take care of Paul. Killing him is obviously not going to be the answer. I just don’t have it in me to commit murder in cold blood.
Sorry, Cassie.
I run to the front of the trailer just as Paul emerges from the door.
I take off—faster, faster—but he catches up to me and tackles me, shoving me to the ground. I’m pinned, but I still struggle and fight.
I get the gun pointed at the prick at one point, but he’s in his twenties and I’m only in my teens. He’s a man, and I’m a boy.
Paul is much stronger and easily wrestles the .45 from my grasp.
Pointing the gun—my gun—in my face, he spits out, “You little fuck, what are you doing out here? And what’s with the gun? You and that little bitch come up with this shit? You think you can come here and just shoot me?” He laughs. “Guess that plan is fucked all to hell now, huh?”
He chuckles again, but underneath he sounds outraged.
Somehow I muster the courage to say, “Just stay the hell away from Cass, all right?”
Paul’s response is another laugh.
And then he quits laughing and hits me in the side of the head with the gun. That shit hurts like hell.
“Fuck,” I grunt as hot blood begins to trickle down my temple.
Paul palms the gun and smirks down at me. Evil bastard. It’s clear from the angle of his body that he’s about to slam the .45 down on my face. I close my eyes and wince, waiting for the sure to be bone-crushing blow.
But it never comes.
Instead, I open my eyes and watch as someone behind Paul delivers one solid hit to his head. With what, I don’t know.
Paul crumples onto me and I am blinded by his bulk. I struggle to escape, pushing at his limp form.
Suddenly, someone pulls Paul off of me.
When I’m free, I look up and find my rescuer—Chase.
“Should I even be surprised?” I say, astounded, shocked, and happy all at the same time.
“You all right?” my big brother asks as he offers me his hand.
I take his hand and let him lift me to my feet. “Yeah, I think so,” I reply.
Once I’m upright, I brush myself off, glance over at Paul. He’s prone on his back, not moving.
Turning back to Chase, I see a bloody pipe in his hand. “You hit him with that?” I ask, eyes widening.
Chase nods grimly as he tosses the heavy piece of steel to the ground.
Shit, we can’t leave things like this.
Swiftly, and with no hesitation, I drop to my knees. With the edge of my T-shirt, I pick up the pipe and wipe away my brother’s prints.
“What are you doing?” Chase asks.
“Fuck, man…” I glance up at my brother, who will clearly do anything to save me. “I don’t care if you killed him,” I state. “But I won’t stand by and let you go back to prison.”
Chase
A murder rap…
Great, that’s just what I need. With my record, I’ll never again see the light of day.
Thankfully, though, when I fall to my knees next to what looks like a lifeless body, I notice Paul’s chest is rising and falling.
“Thank God,” I breathe out, relieved. “He’s still alive.”
Will, who is done cleaning my prints from the pipe, comes over and kneels down next to me. “What should we do now?” he asks in a shaky voice.
Pulling out the cell phone from the back pocket of my jeans, I say, “I think we better call an ambulance.”
Will grimaces. “That means the police will come.”
I rake my hand through my hair. “I know.” I exhale resignedly. “But what other choice do we have, Will?”
He shrugs and looks away. I know he feels bad for this idiotic stunt.
“You’re not going to get into any trouble, right?” he wants to know. “I mean, you did what you had to do to get him off me. He was about to crush my face.”
“All true,” I say. “I’m sure the police will understand.” Yeah, right.
Will may have cleaned up the pipe, but the police will still see Paul was hit by something. And then there’s the gun—Will’s prints are all over that thing.
I glance at Will…then at the gun lying in the dirt.
“What?” Will asks. “What are you thinking, Chase?”
“Just give me a minute,” I reply. “I need to think this through.”
He nods. “Okay.”
My brother bought the gun illegally, so there’s no record of the purchase. Hell, the serial number is probably scratched off. But if the police learn the truth of Will’s transaction with Kyle Tanner, my brother will end up in a shitload of trouble.
Not going to happen.
My decision is made.
As I rise to my feet, I take off my T-shirt. Wrapping the dark cotton material around my hand, I reach down and pick up the gun. After wiping the .45 clean of all prints, I place it back on the ground.
But then I reconsider, and move the gun over to Paul’s limp grasp.
“Chase,” Will says warily. Leaning in to me, he whispers, “Do you really think putting it there is a good idea? Isn’t that, like, tampering with evidence or some shit?”
I raise a brow. “So says the kid who just cleaned my prints off a metal pipe.”
“Hmm, point taken,” Will retorts.
After I put my shirt back on, I make the call to 9-1-1.
Next, I call Kay. She’s only a half-mile down the road, but I can’t leave my brother alone with Paul while I go retrieve her. What if the perverted prick
wakes up?
Kay answers before the first ring is even completed.
“Chase,” she says shakily, her tone sounding frightened and frantic. “Are you okay? Where’s Will? Did you find him before he did anything stupid? Do you need any help?”
“Hey, hey, calm down, babe,” I reply. “We’re both okay.”
I hear her breathe out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”
“Will is with me,” I continue. “Stay where you are. We’ll come to you after we talk to the police.”
“The police? Oh, Chase.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Everything is okay now.”
I proceed to tell Kay an abbreviated story, enough to ease her fears and keep her in the car.
“Okay,” she assures me. “I’ll wait here.”
After I wrap up with Kay, I go to stand next to my brother. His temple is still trickling blood, so I reach over and gently wipe at the cut on his head.
Will winces, and I ask, “Does it hurt?”
He shrugs. “A little.”
“It’s not too deep, but we’ll have the paramedics take a look at it, okay?”
“Okay,” Will whispers, eyes downcast.
He’s staring down at his sneakered feet, so I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Hey, you want to talk about it?”
“Nothing to say,” Will replies flatly. “I made a stupid mistake, Chase. I should’ve never come out here. I should have just given you the right gun the day you asked for it.”
I drape an arm around my brother’s defeated shoulders. “Don’t worry about that shit now. It’s over.”
Will breathes in deeply. Slowly, he starts to speak, but then he stops.
Finally, after a few minutes, he says in a low voice, “I don’t know if Cassie and I are much good for each other. Early on things were all right, but lately it seems like shit turns so toxic when we’re together.”
I make a scoffing sound, but hold my tongue.
Truthfully, I’d like to see Will get away from Cassie. The thing that bound them together initially—shared loss—is not enough anymore. Cassie’s problems are for adults—like her mom and the police—to handle. Will is only fifteen and dealing with enough shit of his own.
“What do you think you’re going to do?” I carefully inquire.
“Break up with her, I guess.” His gaze lifts and zones in on me. “Do you think I should?”
I throw my hands up, as if to say don’t ask me. “Hey, you have to decide that for yourself, bro.”
Despite my true feelings, I am not going to lead Will one way or the other. Whatever he decides, the decision must be his. Anything else, like my interference, will only breed resentment. I know this from experience.
“I’ll think about it,” Will says at last. And then he abruptly adds, “Did you know Mom wants me to go talk to someone? Like a counselor or some shit.”
“How do you feel about that?” I softly inquire. “Do you think it will help?”
Will shrugs, and just like that he’s back to staring at the ground. “I don’t know, Chase,” he says. “I really don’t know. Maybe…possibly.”
I want to talk more with Will about the counseling, but sirens in the background put an end to that discussion…for now. Not to mention there’s something Will and I need to get straight—our story about what happened here tonight.
“Hey,” I say to Will. “We need to have our stories straight before the cops get here. What are you planning on saying?”
“Mostly the truth, I guess. Nothing about the gun, though. We can pretend it was his all along, right?”
I glance at the .45 resting in Paul’s outstretched hand. “Right,” I say.
We continue to go over our stories so they corroborate perfectly.
I clear my throat when we’re done, and Will says, “I’ll probably get in trouble for driving Cass’s car without a license.”
“Yeah,” I agree, “most likely.”
I don’t add what I’m sure we are both thinking: It’s better than being in trouble for having an illegal firearm in your possession. One you fully intended on using.
When the police and paramedics do arrive, Will and I stick to our agreed-upon stories, with Will explaining to the police that he came out here merely to talk with Paul. And only because he was tired of Paul’s continued harassment of Cassie.
“I thought maybe I could reason with him man-to-man,” Will explains to the officer taking our stories down.
The policeman nods and turns to me. “And you, how did you end up here?”
“Uh…” I clear my throat. “I came out after Will’s girlfriend told me he wanted to talk with Paul. I had a feeling things might get heated, and I wanted to be here to protect my little brother.”
The cop glances at the pipe on the ground. “You didn’t hit him with that, did you?”
“No,” I reply. “I only used my hands.”
I don’t think the cop really buys it, but he doesn’t press. And little wonder. Turns out, there are multiple APBs out on Paul. Not just the one for violating the restraining order to stay away from Cassie, but for other things too, similar things to what he was doing to Will’s girlfriend.
My brother and I are informed that Paul has an outstanding arrest warrant out on him in another state. We are told he used to live in some tiny town in Arizona, where he’s suspected of soliciting under-age girls online for sex.
“Sick fuck,” I murmur when the cop is finished with that particular story.
“He’s going to be going away for a long, long time,” the officer states. Turning to Will, he adds, “You and your girlfriend will never have to worry about this man ever bothering you again.”
“Good,” Will says.
With our statements on record, Will and I are free to leave. The police make arrangements for Cassie’s car to be towed back to her house.
Together, Will and I walk away from Paul’s trailer and head toward the rental car down the road.
“You lucked out,” I say to Will.
The officers at the scene chose not to write him up for driving without a license.
“Just don’t do it again,” one burly cop admonished.
“No, sir,” Will replied.
Now, on the way to the car, Will says, “You’re not kidding. I was one lucky guy tonight.”
“You sure were,” I agree, “in a lot of ways.”
Will doesn’t disagree. In fact, he thanks me for saving his ass.
“That’s what big brothers are for.” I reach over and ruffle his hair, carefully, though, so as to avoid the cut on his temple. The paramedics bandaged it before we left, but I’m sure it still hurts like hell.
Will half-heartedly attempts to push me away. “Stop it,” he complains.
Since it’s been a rough night, I leave him be.
A couple of minutes later, right before we reach the car, Will slows to a stop.
I stop next to him and ask, “What’s up?”
“Uh…” he trails off.
I jerk my head, indicating the rental car where Kay is waiting. “When she notices us, she’s going to be out of that car in a heartbeat. You better tell me now if you have something to say.”
Exhaling, Will says, “Since this is all over, I was wondering if you and Kay plan on heading back to Ohio soon.”
“Pretty soon, yeah. School starts in a week and a half, and Kay needs to be back before then.”
“That’s right,” Will says. “She teaches first grade in the school we painted the mural in, right?”
I nod as I think about those summer days that seem so long ago.
“Hey, Chase.” Will’s eyes meet mine. “Is there any way you, just you, could stay a little while longer?”
I shake my head, and Will swiftly adds, “Even just one more week would be good.”
“I don’t know, Will.” I rake my fingers through my hair, uncertain. Even though I’m sure Kay would be fine with me staying under most circumstances, I don’t think spending ou
r first few weeks as a married couple apart is going to go over all that well.
But Will sends me such a pleading look that I can’t refuse.
“One more week,” I say, relenting. “Not a single day longer, though.”
My brother’s face now positively beams. “Thank you, Chase,” he says. “And I’ll tell Kay myself that I promise I won’t keep you two apart a minute beyond one extra week.”
Just then, in the distance, a jagged streak of lightning brightens the sky, giving me the most morbid sense of foreboding.
Kay
I discover plans have changed when Chase and I are back at the house.
“So…” I say. “We’re not going to drive back to Ohio on the motorcycle?”
I try not to sound dejected, but I can’t hide my dismay as Chase and I walk up to our bedroom.
“Baby girl…” Chase stops at the top of the stairs and wraps his arms around me. “I am so sorry. It looks like we’ll have to fly back.”
“Yeah, separately,” I say, sighing.
‘Yes, separately, but I’ll be back in Ohio not much longer after you.”
“One week later,” I reply, frowning. “Yes, I know.”
Chase doesn’t need an upset me to deal with, so I try to smile.
I feel so torn, though. I can’t ask Chase not to stay with his brother. Will needs him. Only problem is, I need Chase too. I’ll never say this to him, however. I refuse to make him choose, because, ultimately, I know Chase Gartner will always choose me.
That knowledge gives me the peace to stay silent…and to remain silent the next night when Chase and I are lying in bed, the specter of our impending separation weighing on us both.
“What are you thinking?” he asks as I stare up at the ceiling.
I turn and nuzzle into his strong chest. “Oh, nothing, really,” I reply.
“So you’re sure you’re okay with me staying in Vegas this next week?” he asks. It’s a question that has been asked and answered too many times to count.
Still, I reassure him, “Yes, absolutely, Chase. I’ll be so busy during the first few days of school that I probably won’t even notice you’re not around.”
That remark gets his attention.
Raising his head from the pillow and peering down at me, he says, “Yeah, right.”
