Caught in the Chase (Caught Series Book 3)

by Kacey Shea

  I almost run across the street to get as far from temptation as possible. But instead I press the walk button and patiently wait for my turn to cross. Breathe in. Breathe out. You’re stronger than you think. You’re stronger than your fears. I repeat the mantra, my focus strong, until I stroll into my favorite coffee shop three blocks over. Once I’m inside and the aroma of roasted coffee greets me with open arms, my body sags in relief. I’m not relapsing again. Not tonight.

  This coffee shop is one of the safe havens I’ve claimed since getting sober. There’s little temptation, what with the lack of alcohol on the menu, and I feel less alone when I’m in a room of strangers. No one looks at me weird or judges me for occupying a table half the night with only a book to keep me company. Tonight I’ll drown my sorrows in highly caffeinated espresso and count it as a win.

  “No books tonight?” Mike, the barista on duty asks.

  “No.” I smile more out of habit. “Taking the night off.”

  “That’s good. Everyone needs a break.” He drops his gaze to my chest while he takes my order. He’s barely out of high school but I’m used to the attention. I’m what my father calls a looker. I’m pretty. Beautiful really. And it’s a big part of why I’ve found myself in trouble more than a time or two. Sometimes I resent my appearance because it’s what others notice first, and too often it’s all they see. But I also crave the attention and affirmation—it’s why I can’t leave the house without makeup or doing my hair. Why I obsess over every outfit and detail to my appearance. I hate that I care, but I’m a work in process.

  A few minutes later with coffee in hand I escape to my usual booth and curl into the back corner. My fingers wrap around the mug of steaming brew and I lift it to my lips, savoring the first taste as it hits my tongue. Thank fuck for coffee. One of the few constants in my life.

  I reach for my cell and open the group chat titled “Best Bitches” to fire off the news of my latest dating catastrophe.

  Me: Another failed date. I quit.

  I have time for another sip before they respond.

  Jill: What happened this time?

  Callie: Oh no! Dish!

  It takes me more than a minute to summarize it into one message. Picturing my friends’ faces anxiously awaiting what I have to say almost makes it worth revisiting what has been my absolute worst first date experience. After the year I’ve had, that’s really saying something.

  Me: I guess my first sign we weren’t going to work should’ve been when he picked me up in a Taurus. With his grandma. Who we had to drop by CVS to pick up her prescriptions before heading to dinner.

  Callie: Oh, hell no. A Taurus?

  Callie: You deserve better. Dammit. Alicia, I told you to scope the car before the first date!

  Jill: He cares about granny. That could be sweet?

  Me: No. Not sweet. Apparently it’s her car. He doesn’t have one. Rather, he did before he drove it off Bear Creek Bridge last year.

  Jill: Pray tell, why did he do that?

  Me: Because the voices told him to.

  Jill: OMG what voices? Like in his head?

  Me: No, not in his head. It was the aliens, or possibly the ghost of his deceased pet, Frank. His fortune teller still wasn’t clear, and he’s waiting it out.

  Me: Just wait, it gets better…

  I take another sip of coffee.

  Me: He offered to brush and wash my hair. Twice. You know, because it’s so pretty.

  Jill: Ass clowns. The entire male species.

  Callie: He did not!

  Me: Oh, but he did. Then he kept finding ways to smell my hair.

  Me: Asked about my beauty routine for almost twenty straight minutes.

  Callie: Maybe he was looking for tips. For his hair?

  Jill: He was bald, wasn’t he?

  Me: Than a baby’s butt.

  Callie: Oh, yeah, you wrangled yourself a creep.

  Jill: Probably wanted to buy your shampoo so he could use it to jack off with in the shower.

  Me: My thoughts exactly. Which were confirmed later when he asked if I wanted to come back to his place.

  I cringe remembering.

  Me: He said, and I quote: Would you mind if I came in your hair?

  Callie: HE DID NOT!

  Me: He did.

  I add a few barfing emojis to drive home my feelings.

  Jill: Where are you finding these dudes?

  Callie: I think Jill and I should start screening potential candidates. Or reporting them to Dateline.

  Jill: I’m concerned for your safety. Are you home?

  Me: I’m fine. At my usual coffee haunt.

  Jill: I think this guy wins an award. Seriously, block him from your social media ASAP.

  Me: Already done.

  Callie: And be safe getting home. Let us know if you need a ride.

  Me: I’m good. Might take a breather from the dating apps though.

  Callie: Dating is so complicated now.

  Me: I know right, whatever happened to getting drunk at the bar and going home with some guy to hook up at his place?

  Jill: Alcoholism. That’s what happened.

  Me: True that. Sobriety is really fucking with my dating life.

  Jill: Preach.

  Callie: I’m pretty sure what you were doing before was not dating.

  Jill: More like whoring.

  Callie: Classic Slutty?

  Laughter escapes my lips and I glance up to meet the curious stares of all five of the other people in the coffee shop. I must look like an idiot, smiling at my phone and grinning ear-to-ear, but these two have stuck with me through thick and thin and never fail to bring me laughter, even when they’re poking fun. The thing is, with true friendship, any topic’s fair game. If anyone else said that Jill would chew them out, but we’re besties. We keep it real. Always.

  Me: You two suck. I’m gonna make out with my coffee mug now.

  Jill: I’m proud of you.

  Me: For dating The Shampoo Masturbating Dead Pet Mediator?

  Jill: No, for putting yourself out there.

  Me: Not sure it’s getting me anywhere. Hey, do you two have time to get lunch tomorrow or Sunday?

  Callie: Sorry. Can’t this weekend. Dad’s in town and we’re teaching Ash how to change motor mounts.

  Jill: I’m out, too. Cam has Kenslee for the weekend and we’re taking her to a festival.

  This right here is why I decided online dating was my next move. Even though these girls are my best friends and confidants, my shoulder to cry on, and more importantly, the ones who’d drop my ass back in rehab if they ever witnessed me relapse—Callie and Jill have their own lives. Their own partner in crime they sleep next to at the end of the day. And I want that. A person. I don’t want to be alone.

  Fuck. Why is it so difficult to find someone worth dating?

  You didn’t have a problem finding someone after a bottle of Syrah . . .

  I hate that voice. She’s part of me, too. A piece that no one sees but one that’s always in my ear. Even more so when I’m tired or weak or alone.

  Callie: How about dinner this week? I can do Mon or Thurs

  Jill: Thursday works for me!

  Me: Let’s do it.

  For some reason I cannot fathom, I’ve been blessed with the best friends on the planet. Genuinely good people who always make time—no matter how full their lives already are—for me. They inspire me to be better. Do better.

  Me: How about Jackson’s on 5th?

  It’s central to all of us. Plus, they have the best appetizers. Callie and Jill agree on the location and we settle on a time before saying good night.

  I close out my messages and switch over to check my email, needing to see the invitation in my inbox once more. It’s there. I didn’t dream it. A grin spreads across my face and my heart races with excitement. I’m smiling like a loon. I glance up from my phone but no one pays me any attention so I do a little dance in my seat then settle back into the booth to sip my drink. />
  I could’ve told Callie and Jill my summer plans over the phone or via text, but selfishly I want to soak up their reactions. Because they’ll be supportive and proud. Happy for me. Unlike my family. But that’s okay. I won’t wallow in what I cannot change. No. I need to focus on creating the life I want, and right now I’m well on my way.

  Hair fetish guy excluded, of course.

  2

  Chase

  “Rough shift?” Tommy, one of the regular bartenders on duty asks as I saunter over for the—shit, I’ve lost track of how many times. Jackson’s is one of our regular hangouts, and even though I ditched my county fire shirt hours ago, I come here enough he knows me by name.

  “You could say that.” The room blurs and spins. A tilt-a-whirl out of control. But a wave of warmth floods my mind from the alcohol in my system. The perfect temporary escape.

  This week was long, made longer by the call we responded to at the end of my shift. A drowning. An accident. The child got through an open gate and no one noticed. We were too late.

  If I close my eyes, I’ll see her lifeless ones staring back. It’s why I refused to sleep after getting off work this morning. Days like this are the worst. The hardest part of the job.

  I don’t believe in ghosts, but I’m haunted by the people we can’t save. My soul is branded with traumatic images and a pain I wish I could forget. Drinking helps.

  “Another pale ale?”

  “You know it, Tommy.” It takes considerable effort not to slur his name and I slap the counter, mostly to steady myself.

  He stares, and I wonder if he’s about to refuse my request. I’ve been here all afternoon with a few guys from the station and I’ve had more than my fill. But I’m not due back at work for another two days, so I’m getting shitfaced. A flicker of unease passes over his face before he glances down at my empty glass. “You got it, Chase.”

  “Make it two.” I grin and hold up two fingers. “For the table.” A lie, but if it shows, he doesn’t call me on it. Minutes later, I stumble back to the corner booth where my friends scream at the wall of televisions.

  “Double fisting it.” My buddy Troy lifts his brows in amusement. “Again?”

  “That’s how I roll.” I set my drinks on the table.

  He lifts his hand for a high five. “Nice.” He chuckles heartily as I slap his hand and slide next to him in the booth.

  Maverick lifts his chin to the door. “Your brother joining us or what?”

  I called Cam and texted him, but no response. “Your guess is as good as mine.” I shrug and take another swallow of beer. It’s not uncommon for my stepbrother to ignore my invite, but it still hurts. “He either picked up a shift or he’s getting some.”

  “Jesus!” Ace shouts at the televisions. “Catch the fucking ball!”

  “Dude. Relax.” I take a sip of beer. “Your pussy ass team isn’t pulling out the W.”

  “Fuck you, Matthews.” He glares and throws me a middle finger. “At least I don’t cheer for the Pats.”

  “Now those are fighting words.” I shake my head and chuckle. “You really wanna go there? Next time you pick up overtime on my watch I’ll have you scrubbing toilets with the booter.”

  He ignores my comment to stare at the television. That’s what I thought.

  “How’s the new guy?” Charles leans forward on his elbows. “Blake, right? Isn’t he Tolvolski’s nephew? From Station Twenty?”

  “He’s an uptight pain in my ass.” All the new guys are, but my job as captain is to help shape and mold them into outstanding firefighters. Or at the very least, show them the ropes and keep them from quitting. “Kid walks around like he’s fucking Captain America.”

  “He’s gay?” Ace says, his nose crinkled.

  “No, dumbass.” I roll my eyes and focus my attention back to Charles. “He’s just one of those straight-laced stick-up-his-butt know-it-all types.” Though last night might have done him in. Barely said a word after we returned from the drowning call. I invited him to join us tonight, but he said no thanks. The kid always declines our after-work invites. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m supposed to relate to him or loosen him up. “Got his degree in fire science.”

  Charles nods and lets out an “ahh” of understanding.

  Maverick lifts his brows and I know him well enough to tell he’s reining in an eyeroll.

  The rest of the guys grumble in acknowledgement.

  There are two types of firefighters. The ones who go to school to study it, and the ones who are born into it. My father’s been battalion chief of our county for as long as I can remember. There was no question about what I’d be when I grew up. Though, some could make the argument that I’m no closer to acting like an adult than when I started at the station twelve years ago.

  “Hate those pretentious types.” Charles shakes his head, then lifts his hands as if not wanting to offend. “I’m not putting down the effort it takes to get a degree, but none of that prepares you for the field.”

  “Yeah, show me where yesterday’s call fits in a book,” Ace says. “How to hold back a screaming mother? Or take turns doing chest compressions on a kid the same age as mine?”

  Our table sobers and my gaze drops as silence fills the space. It stretches, uncomfortable until one of us breaks.

  Troy lifts his glass. “Maybe he’ll put in for a transfer.”

  “I can only hope.” I force out a laugh.

  “Hey, isn’t that Ash’s girl?” Charles lifts his chin toward the door.

  I turn in my seat and glance over my shoulder to find Callie, Alicia, and Jill stepping into the brewery. Shit.

  “Didn’t you hook up with her first?” Troy slaps my back.

  Ace grins and shakes his head. “Doesn’t her friend live with your brother?”

  God, sometimes I hate this town. Richmond’s not small by any means, but when your family has been the center of some heavy-ass drama, it draws a lot of attention. Everyone is in everyone’s business—mine especially. Not that anyone knows the truth—no, I hold that shit tight to my chest. But I’m forever running into people I’d rather not see. One I wish I could coax back into my bed.

  As if reading my thoughts, Alicia lifts her gaze. She’s too damn gorgeous. Temptation personified, even if she glares back as if she’s thinking about cutting off my dick. Fuck me. With her, I might actually enjoy the pain. She whispers something to Callie and Jill, and seconds later the trio struts out of the restaurant. Because of me.

  “Dude. She fucking hates you.”

  They’re talking about Callie because she and I dated for a hot second, but I don’t correct them. It sucks to be the guy everyone hates, but that’s my lot in life. I force a smirk and lift my beer. “Tell ‘er to get in line.”

  “Fuckin’ hell.” Troy laughs. “I don’t know how you get away with that and still get pussy.”

  “Women love to fuck me.” It’s the only thing they love. “It’s big dick energy. Something you wouldn’t know about.”

  “Oh, you’re a dick all right,” Ace says, shaking his head. “And why my daughter isn’t dating until she’s thirty. Maybe never.”

  We return to watching the game and shooting the shit. I down both my beers and soon enough I’m feeling just fine. We order more beer and some food, but I don’t eat much. My gaze keeps drifting back to the door. I don’t know why but I wish Alicia would walk back in. Ever since I caught her slip-up—drinking by herself and looking as lost and broken as I feel most days—I can’t get her out of my mind. Not that she wants to see me again. That was something she made perfectly clear the morning after.

  3

  Alicia

  “I’m sorry,” Jill says for the third time tonight. We’re at a new restaurant, table filled with delicious food, and to be safe, a good two blocks from Jackson’s. “I didn’t know he was going to be there.”

  “Of course you didn’t.” I wave her off. Our combined history with Chase Matthews is a complicated one. More than I’ll ever ad
mit to.

  “We don’t expect you to have a Chase radar.” Callie rolls her eyes and laughs.

  “Ohhh! That would be a great idea. Let’s patent it.” I clap my hands together. “A tracking device and app for your exes so you don’t have those awkward run-ins. Think of the millions we’d make.”

  “And all the bad choices that could be avoided!” Jill nods.

  “Our gift to humanity, really.” I giggle and take a sip of my iced tea.

  “Get this woman a bleeding heart award.” Callie tips her drink to mine. “That’s a thing, right?”

  “For this? I’m pretty sure it’s not,” Jill deadpans.

  We burst into a fit of laughter, the boisterous and unfiltered kind that fills the soul.

  “So, actually, I do have some news.” I bite my lip, nerves bubbling up even though I want to be brave. “Won’t have me winning any humanitarian awards but I’m excited all the same.”

  Callie leans forward. “Dish.”

  Their expectant stares are filled with excitement. I hesitate a second, worried about their reaction and at the same time dying for their approval. Some habits are hard to break.

  Pasting on a fearless smile, I push the words out of my mouth. “I’ve been offered a position with a community center for the summer. Head of their volunteer program. I’ll be working with at-risk youth. Doesn’t pay much, but it’s an internship. It’ll look good on my resume and keep me busy while I wait to hear back from grad schools.”

  “Alicia!” Callie beams. “That’s amazing!”

  “Fuck, yeah!” Jill’s mouth parts with surprise and her eyes are full of so much admiration, I almost feel undeserving of her praise. “It’s everything you wanted! When do you start?”

  “Next month.”

  “A toast!” Jill lifts her glass in the air. She rolls her eyes at Callie’s incredulous stare. “With water.”

  Callie’s lips pinch as she holds back a smile. “To new beginnings.”