Caught in the Chase (Caught Series Book 3)

by Kacey Shea

  26

  Alicia

  It’s a beautiful summer night, the kind that requires a sweatshirt. A cool breeze lifts the salty air from the ocean. The patio outside the fast food joint is filled with picnic tables, and our group commandeers half of them in our post-game celebration. The teens take off as soon as the food is scarfed down, but the adults stay to mingle.

  “You’re right.” Chase wads up his burger wrapper and tosses it in a nearby trash can. He rubs at his chest a little, then meets my gaze. “It burns.”

  “Here.” I pull the bottle of chewable anti-acid pills from my purse. “I always come prepared.”

  “My hero,” he says, and I think he intends it as a joke, but his smile falters for a split second.

  “A few of us are heading out to the beach. You in?” Charlie asks and then turns to Chase, including him in the invitation.

  “You know, I’m really tired. I think I’m gonna call it an early night,” I say.

  “How about you, Chase?”

  “Uh.” His gaze bounces between me and Charlie. “Next time? I’ve got a thing tomorrow. Early.”

  “No worries. See you Monday.” Charlie’s hand lifts with a wave. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, then say my good-byes to a few of the other staff and volunteers as they head toward their respective cars. I’m free to go and yet I’m not really ready to call it a night.

  “You going home?”

  “Yeah?” I furrow my brow, not keen on the prospect of staring at the top of my bunk for the rest of the evening.

  His lips twitch with the hint of a smile. “Is that a question?”

  “I think I’m gonna grab a coffee first.” I nod across the lot to where my car is parked. “Do you want to join me?”

  “Me?” His brows shoot up and his surprise is almost comical.

  “Unless you’re too cool for coffee.”

  “No. I’m not.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I like coffee. Coffee’s good.” He rubs a hand across his jaw and swears before meeting my gaze again. “I would really enjoy that. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it.” I try for cool and casual but there’s something in the intensity of his stare that does funny things to my insides. “Come on. I’ll drive.” The walk to my car is five minutes and the drive even shorter. Deja Brew is open until ten on Fridays, so we order and find an open table.

  “You’re good with them,” he says, leaning back into his seat. “The teens.”

  I shake my head. “I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. It’s terrifying. I’m totally underqualified to mentor young adults.”

  “I don’t know, they seem to respect you.”

  “Only because they’re scared of getting stuck scraping gum. Thanks, by the way. Who knew teenagers had a weak spot?”

  “No problem.” He grins, his smile lighting up his face. It’s disarming, how fucking gorgeous he is. “That Hunter kid is a real ass.”

  “Yeah, well, I think he’s dealing the best he can. It’s a defense, you know?”

  He considers my words and nods. “Maybe, but I still don’t like him. He needs to be brought down a peg or ten.”

  “Then it’s a good thing we won tonight.” I chuckle. The weirdest thing about sitting here and sipping coffee with a man I’ve considered an enemy for the better part of the year is how easy it is. Away from our friends and community, we get along just fine. I actually enjoy his company. If things were different, he’d be someone I’d like to do this with more often.

  I try not to think about what Jill or Callie would have to say if they knew. I still haven’t told them about Chase living down here, or how he’s volunteering at the center. At this point it would be odd and suspicious to mention. Besides, there’s nothing to tell. No one will ever know.

  “You’re tired?” Chase says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I lie, because the alternative is a conversation we won’t be having. Though, I wonder if his brother knows. Cam and Jill live together. Shit. It’s only a matter of time before she asks me about Chase. I honestly don’t know what I’ll say. I stretch my arms over my head. “Long days are finally catching up with me.”

  “Alicia?” The way he says my name catches me off-guard. The intensity of his gaze holds my complete attention. “Thank you for this. Tonight. The game and burgers. The coffee.” He swallows hard. “It’s been the most fun I’ve had all summer.”

  My self-preservation breaks a little at the honesty of his admission. I’ve been struggling with a new place, a new job, a new life. But I have the center, my roommates, and best friends who text or call daily. Who does Chase have? “Chase, I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He holds up his palms and shakes his head. “Please. Don’t. I’ve fucked up a lot of things and I deserve everything coming to me. But it was nice, you know, to just forget for a few hours. Pretend everything’s normal.”

  I recognize the way he’s beating himself up for the hurt he caused when he was drunk. I understand because I’ve been there, and my heart aches for him to find forgiveness. This is no way to live. There is no peace in regret. He’s got to be so damn lonely right now. I feel bad I haven’t included him sooner.

  “You don’t have to accept that path.”

  He tilts his head as if he doesn’t understand.

  “You can own the hurt you’ve caused. Take responsibility and find forgiveness. You don’t have to pretend. You can just be you.”

  He barks out a laugh, but it lacks humor. “No one likes it when I’m me.”

  “Is that really true?” I’m probably pushing too hard, but we’re already in this conversation and I won’t back down now. “If you let people see you for who you are—totally and completely—I think they might surprise you. I’d bet they’d like the guy sitting in front of me.”

  “I’m not sure I know who that is.” He runs a hand through his hair, sending the locks in a mess.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How do I explain it?” He slowly spins his empty coffee mug between his hands. “In the firehouse, our turnout gear is always waiting. When there’s a call, we just step into our boots and yank on our pants. The newbies struggle to get dressed in time, but for most of us it’s second nature. Like pulling on a second skin. I don’t even think about what I’m doing.” He stills his fingers and leans forward, his gaze dropping to the table top. “Before the crash that’s how it was with everything. I didn’t think, I just did. I wasn’t even aware. But now that I am, I have no fucking clue who I am or what I’m supposed to do, or how to make myself forget without getting blackout drunk. I feel like a fucking booter who can’t figure out how to put on his gear before the truck goes racing off without me.” He shakes his head, disgust drips from his next words. “I’m almost thirty years old and I have no clue what the hell I’m supposed to be doing.”

  “I think you’re off to a good start.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You’re here, in Kitty Hawk, volunteering every day. You attend meetings. You’re not drinking. Those are no easy feats.”

  He exhales a sigh as if he holds the weight of the world on his shoulders. “You give me too much credit.”

  “And you don’t give yourself enough.”

  His lips twitch as if maybe he wants to smile. “Look at you, being all wise and knowing. I knew I picked a kickass sponsor.”

  “No, no, no.” I shake my head and chuckle. “I never agreed to be your sponsor.”

  “Yet you’re doing it anyway.” He winks.

  I see what he’s doing, turning the conversation light by making jokes, but I don’t call him on it. We’ve dug into a space filled with hurt, and he has plenty to process. “Most sponsors have years of sobriety. I’m not qualified.” Not to mentor anyone through sobriety, especially him.

  “Where I’m coming from, you’ve got a lifetime of experience on this. So, I respectfully disagree. Besides, you’r
e the only one around here I trust to give it to me straight.”

  I want to ask what he means by that. I want to tell him it gets better. Easier. That he doesn’t need me to discover a life worth living.

  “Excuse me. Ten minutes until we close up,” the barista interrupts.

  “Oh, sorry.” Chase stands from the table. He picks up his cup. “You ready to head out?”

  “Yeah.” I pick up my drink and bring the empty mug to the counter before following him out the door. Any further conversation will have to wait. I guess we’re both off the hook. At least for now.

  27

  Chase

  We step outside the coffee shop but I hang back on the curb.

  She stops when I don’t follow and turns to meet my gaze. “Need a ride?”

  “No. I’m good.” I’m embarrassed to have her drive me home. It’s pathetic enough I no longer have a license or car. The fact I’m bumming it rent-free at my uncle’s massive beach house all by my lonesome makes it worse. I don’t want to give her any reason to pity me, especially now that it finally feels we’ve found common ground. “It’s a nice night. I’m gonna walk.”

  She pauses as if she wants to argue, but doesn’t. She nods at the coffee shop. “This was actually nice.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” I tease, but I feel the same way. Until tonight, we never spent more than ten minutes together without arguing—or making out. And while I’d love nothing more than to capture those plump, sassy lips with a searing kiss, this isn’t a date. We aren’t drunk. There’s no alcohol to blame.

  “If someone told me six months ago I’d be having coffee with you of my own free will, I’d have laughed in their face.” She takes a step back toward her parked car. “You’re not so bad, Chase Matthews.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” I grin and wait until she’s safe inside her car and pulling away before I head toward my uncle’s place. I think about jogging it. I could certainly use the exercise and I’d get there quicker. But then what? I’m not tired. There’s no one waiting for me back at home.

  An ache for my old life grabs hold of my chest, making it hard to breathe in spite of the cool night air. In my old apartment I was hardly ever alone, living with a few guys from the department, one of them for many years being my brother. There was always someone to grab a beer and shoot the shit with. At the station, we were a brotherhood.

  Bored? We made up games to pass the time. Busy night? We passed it by razzing on each other between calls.

  I’ve lost all of that. I miss it. I hate being alone.

  With at least another mile to go, I pull out my cell and send off a quick text to Cam without overthinking it.

  Me: Miss you, bro. Hope all is well.

  My phone rings before I can tuck it back in my pocket.

  “Hey, little bro. Everything good?” I know what he’s asking. Are you drunk off your ass? Are you living up to Dad’s expectations? Are you spiraling?

  “I’m fine. Just checking in. I figured you’d be up or out on a call.”

  “I’m chillin’ at the station. Just got back from a call. Suspected gas leak that ended up being a dead rat behind the lady’s water heater.” He sighs and I can picture him scratching the back of his head. “You know how those go.”

  I remember clearly how annoying those calls were, yet I’d give anything to go on one now. “I miss it,” I whisper, but that doesn’t come close to describing the emptiness I feel. Firefighting was part of my identity for so long, it’s not only what I did—it’s who I was. Without it, I’m lost.

  “Yeah.” Cam clears his throat and breaks the silence. “It’s weird not seeing you at the department meetings.”

  I want to ask about Maverick but I’m scared of what he’ll say. I’ve already ruined the man’s life, what more is there? A part of me wants to confide in my older brother, but that’s selfish. He doesn’t need to be weighed down by more of my shit. “How’s my station holding up?” A safe question.

  “Oh, you know, Troy is keeping everyone in line.”

  “Yeah, I can imagine.” I chuckle, that ache in my chest returning as soon as my laughter dies out. I miss my old life. I miss the brotherhood. I miss the work. “Do you think he’ll ever let me come back?” The question pushes past my lips without reservation. I’m no longer referring to my old station. I’m asking about my father, and Cam’s smart enough to catch on.

  “Fuck.” There’s a tension in his tone that strikes harder than any physical blow. It gives me his honest answer. The one I already know. Because my father doesn’t back down or change his mind. Not for anything. Not even his own son. “You know how he is. I don’t know, Chase. Maybe after the summer. After everything calms down.”

  “Yeah.” The word scrapes through my throat. Emotion thick and ready to spill out stings my eyes. I blink, willing myself not to fall apart. “Hey, so I gotta.” I rush him off the phone. “Good talking to you.”

  “Hey, you okay?” It’s the concern in his voice that pushes too far.

  “Yep. Later.” I end the call before I say or do something that might embarrass us both. My muscles strain as I pick up my pace. The road is dark and I’m thankful for that because soon my cheeks streak with tears. I fucking hate this. I hate this place. I hate myself. “Fuck!” I shout into the night, but the evening breeze swallows my cry. Even here, no one cares or notices my pain.

  My feet pound the pavement, slapping hard with the increase of speed. I’m jogging, then running, needing to get away from this moment. To erase the words my brother wouldn’t say. We both know the truth, and I will never be welcomed back into a firehouse. Not as long as my dad’s chief, and that rejection is all-consuming.

  What the hell am I doing?

  What’s the point of it all?

  Why do I even try?

  It’s not until I’m standing under the glowing neon sign of the corner store, out of breath and skin slick with enough sweat to camouflage my tears, that I finally receive a glimmer of relief. My gaze darts through the glass wall of window to the familiar section of bottles and cans.

  No one would know. I could grab a six pack or a bottle of hard liquor and the world wouldn’t hurt so much. The harshness of these feelings swirling in my gut would dull. I could pass out on the deck of my uncle’s house and if I never woke up no one would even miss me. It’d probably be a relief.

  The headlights of a car as it pulls into one of the front parking spaces distracts me, and I turn away from the light so I don’t go temporarily blind. Laughter and conversation spill from the open doors of the older SUV.

  “Hey, isn’t that the guy from the center?” a girl’s voice says in the mix.

  “Shit,” someone else says. “Be cool.”

  I glance up as the small group of teenagers approaches the convenience store. I immediately recognize most of them as kids from the center—Hunter, Bailey, and a few others from tonight’s volleyball game. Most of them won’t meet my gaze, and at first I assume that’s because I must look fucking crazy—sweaty, out of breath, and creeping outside a corner convenience store late at night. Then it hits me. They’re probably out after curfew. They’re scared I’m gonna rat them out. I almost laugh out loud.

  “Hey,” Hunter says, tipping his chin as he pulls open the door. “Good game tonight, sir.”

  “Yeah.” I nod, trying not to laugh at being called sir. As if I’m someone to be regarded with such respect. I was ten seconds from getting blackout drunk, but somehow these kids look to me as a responsible adult. A strange feeling takes hold. One in which I want to be worthy of their respect. “You all have a safe night. Stay out of trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” Hunter says as a few of the other kids mumble similar salutations.

  I turn away, back toward the empty property that awaits me, but this time full of determination. The self-hatred and doubts are still there, lingering in the back of my mind, but they no longer hold the megaphone. I want to become someone whose company I can stand.
r />   28

  Alicia

  On Monday I wake up, the murmur of voices through the walls pulling me from sleep. I turn and shut off my alarm before it goes off and smile with the promise of a new week. It’s a weird and unfamiliar feeling to be this excited for a day of work, but maybe that means for once I’m doing what I should be with my life. That or I’m just thankful for a day filled with structure.

  I’m still adjusting to living with roommates and finding ways to stay busy in this town. This weekend dragged on. Texting friends is not the same as hanging out, and my mind doesn’t settle enough to get lost in a book. I’m counting down until Callie and Jill visit. Until then, I might need to take up a hobby or two.

  Climbing down from my bunk, I grab my shower caddy and towel, not wanting to miss a second of my scheduled bathroom time. Only when I step into the hall, I find both Charlie and one of our other roommates, Ruth, frowning at the open bathroom door.

  “Uh.” I tilt my head toward the schedule posted on the door. “Did I miss a change?”

  A few gruff expletives come from inside the small room, along with a bang of metal.

  “You know how the shower knob wasn’t working right last week?” Charlie winces, their gaze darting to another loud bang. “It came off completely when I turned it to start my shower.”

  Ruth pulls back her wet locks and works them into a braid, meeting my gaze. “I think it might’ve been my fault. It wasn’t shutting off, so I kind of shoved it.” She pauses at the next round of cursing from inside the bathroom. “Sorry, Tom!”

  “I’ll have it fixed in a jiffy!” he hollers back.

  The three of us in the hall look at each other with skeptical frowns.

  Well, shit. “I’m not getting a shower today, am I?” I say above a whisper. My dry shampoo and deodorant will get me through today, but maybe I’ll pack my toiletries in case this problem isn’t repaired by the end of the night. I can always shower at the center tonight.