Caught in the Chase (Caught Series Book 3)

by Kacey Shea

  I’m still mad she drove off the night of the restaurant. How she automatically assumed the worst. How she wouldn’t hear me out. How she left me there in the parking lot when I needed her most. I walked back into the restaurant that night, hating the way her words cut at my defenses. I couldn’t stomach another sip. If I did, she’d be right. She meant more to me than a glass of beer. I never wanted to disappoint her like that again. Alicia didn’t just inspire me to get sober. She became my everything.

  Every night since, I pick up the phone to call her but chicken out. I even walk past the community center and consider going in. But self-preservation holds me back. I can’t handle her rejection. Not again.

  In another week I’ll be back at the center again for regular volunteer work. Maybe by then we’ll both be ready to talk and work past this. Maybe we can begin to mend. Because I miss her. I love her. I want her back. I only hope she feels the same. For now, I’m take things one day at a time, even if it is a little lonely.

  Which is why when Tyler shoots me a text inviting me to stop by his apartment on Friday, I quickly accept. It’s not more than a short jog from the fire station, so as soon as we wrap up for the day, I head over, grateful for the company and a visit with the kittens too.

  “Oh, wow!” I say, shocked at how much bigger they are.

  “They’re all off the bottle,” Tyler says proudly, pointing to the dish of kibble and then the litter box. “And they’re using that, which my mom appreciates most.”

  “You’re a pro at this kitten training.” I scoop up Paws, still the smallest of them all but keeping up just fine. “Hey, buddy. I missed you.”

  “Oh, hi.” Tyler’s mom steps into the kitchen. “Chase, it’s good to see you again.” Her smile is warm, but she shoots her son a raised brow. “Tyler, I didn’t know you had company.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think you would mind.” Tyler’s gaze bounces between us apologetically.

  “I don’t,” Janice says, her finger pointing. “But you are still grounded.” She’s got the mom voice down, because even I’m a little scared I might be in trouble.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And the trash needs to be taken out.” Her hands go to her hips. “Do you mind doing that real quick?”

  He looks as if he minds a lot but doesn’t argue, hauling the plastic bag from beneath the sink and slipping on a pair of sliders. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Sure,” I say, scratching Paws beneath his ears.

  A purr, a happy little motor of a sound, fills my own soul with joy. He snuggles into the crook of my arm, making himself at home.

  “Thank you,” Janice says as soon as the door to the apartment bangs shut.

  “For the kittens? Thank you. I couldn’t have done this on my own, not this week.”

  “No,” she says, shaking her head. “Thank you for saving my son. I never got the chance to thank you that night, and then with the chaos of getting back here . . . I just, I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped Tyler this summer.”

  “He’s a good kid. I didn’t do anything other than try to be a good friend.”

  “Well, that’s exactly what he needed. I’m sure he’s told you about his father?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “It just gets harder and harder. You know, ever since the accident.”

  “Accident?”

  “Last summer.” She presses her lips together and glances at the door before meeting my stare. “My ex wrapped his car around a light pole. He died on impact. Drunk driving.” Her face pinches with distress and she swallows hard. “Sorry, I thought Tyler told you.”

  I shake my head, picking through all the conversations we shared. I got that he was angry with his dad, but never this. Oh, Tyler. Doesn’t seem fair that anyone should have to go through all that.

  The door to the apartment opens and shuts with a bang. Janice swipes beneath her eyes, erasing any evidence of her tears. She smiles brightly when Tyler comes back into the kitchen. “I’m gonna order pizza. That sound good?”

  “Whatever.” He shrugs her off, a typical teenager response. His gaze darts to mine. “Can Chase stay too?”

  “Oh, you don’t have to,” I start.

  “Please,” she says, meeting my stare. “We’d love to have you for dinner.”

  I glance at Tyler, catching his hopeful stare. “Okay, thank you. I’d love to stay.”

  She grins, her smile holding so much appreciation. “Pepperoni okay? Or do you prefer something else?”

  “I’m good with whatever. As long as there’s no pineapple involved.”

  “Right?” Tyler grins. “That’s so gross. Good by itself but not on pizza.”

  “Exactly!” I say a little too loudly. Paws startles from his spot on my arm and hops down, skittering across the tiled floor.

  Janice retreats to another room to order the food and Tyler fills me in on all that’s happened with the kittens in the past week. He shares the quirky personality traits each one has started to show. I take a couple of photos and videos of the little guys. They’re too cute, and part of me wants to freeze time. To be able to capture the moment with more than just a photo or memory. This summer is racing by. These kittens are growing too fast. I’m already attached. It’s gonna be hard as hell giving them up in a few weeks, even if that’s what’s best.

  After dinner, when I start the long walk back to my empty beach house, I scroll through the photos I snapped of the kittens and send one to Alicia.

  Me: They grow up so fast.

  It’s an olive branch. It’s also a pussy move. If I were being honest, I’d call her, or try and go find her. But I’m trying to respect this distance between us. I’m trying to remember not everything is about me. She’s had as long and stressful of a week as I have. She doesn’t need additional pressure. We still have so much to work out. To work through. I still need to figure out what the hell my life is gonna look like come next month. This summer has been an unexpected and healing escape, but won’t last forever. She knows that and so do I. I wish there were some way to stay in this moment—together—forever.

  70

  Alicia

  I stare at Chase’s message, not sure what to say. I’ve avoided him all week. Easier to do with him on the post-storm clean-up crew. But that won’t last much longer. At some point next week, he’ll return to the community center to finish out his volunteer hours. I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive it. I miss him so much, even after what he did. I made the right choice by ending things.

  The photo of the kittens disappears with the ringing of my phone. Mom. The flash of the caller ID shows my mother’s bright, beautiful smile reflected on the screen. Strange. Why is she calling? But for one short phone conversation when she begged me to drive home before the hurricane and a few texts after to make sure I was okay, she hasn’t reached out.

  I shouldn’t answer. It’s not a good time, but a longing for a meaningful connection with the woman who birthed me demands I answer.

  “Hello.”

  There’s no response. No sound.

  I check the screen to make sure I’m not hallucinating. The call’s connected. “Hello? Mom?”

  “Sweetie.” Her voice cracks and alarm claws at my already frazzled nerves. “Oh, sweetie. It’s your father.”

  I don’t recall what else she says, or if I even ask questions. My body moves swiftly and with purpose, and I’m back in my room tossing everything I own in my bag. The only thing I remember when I get behind the wheel are my mother’s broken, begging words. “Come home, please. We don’t know if he’ll make it through the night. I need you. Alicia, please.”

  My pulse hammers in my chest, the beat so quick I feel out of breath when I haven’t done a damn thing. I should probably make a few calls. At the very least, tell someone I’m leaving. But if I do, I’m sure I’ll fall apart.

  I can’t do that now. I don’t have the luxury.

  My father is in the ICU. He might be dying. And as angry a
s I’ve been at him for the last year, I am not ready to let him go. I offer up a silent prayer, begging God to let him be okay.

  Regret consumes me with each passing mile. For all the conversations we never had. For me wasting the time we had by being angry with him. What if that’s all we have? What if I don’t get to see him again? I’m driving as fast as I can, but what if I’m too late. My eyes fill with tears. A sob breaks from my lips. But I refuse to fall apart, not until I’m by his side. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, I pray for him to fight. To live. To wait for me to make it home.

  I make it to the hospital long after visiting hours. My cell is filled with multiple messages from my brothers. Updating me. Telling me to hurry. Asking me to drive safe because they’re already here. They’ve been here for hours.

  Guilt thickens my throat. I should’ve been here. My family needed me and I was gone. My stomach churns as I park and run toward the hospital. What if I’m too late?

  The scent of antiseptic hits me as I step inside the building. I almost throw up, but swallow back the urge. My hands shake as I focus on my breathing, and I pull out my phone. I’m barely able to type out a text.

  Me: I’m here.

  I head for the elevator bay and press the up button. The seconds drag and the panicked, clawing feeling returns. As soon as the doors open, I rush inside and press the number for the floor. My brothers don’t respond to my text, which only causes my worry to skyrocket. My brain fires off all the worst case scenarios.

  When the doors open to my floor, I step off and frantically follow the signs, only to be stopped by a secured door. The receptionist is on a call and a few nurses move around behind the desk at a comfortable easy pace. As if my world isn’t ending. As if my dad isn’t behind those doors fighting for his life.

  “Excuse me.” My words come out rude.

  Their gazes flick to where I stand, but only the receptionist makes eye contact. She holds up a finger and mouths, “One second.”

  One second? One fucking second? Panic claws up my chest again and this time I can’t catch my breath. The room blurs and spins. Fuck, I’m gonna pass out.

  “Alicia!” My brother Ricky’s strong voice pulls me to the present. He rushes to my side and steadies me with his arms. “Hey, are you okay? You’re white as a ghost.” He presses his hands against my cheeks, his stare serious as he assesses my state.

  Am I okay? Obviously, I’m not. “Daddy.” The word pushes past my lips.

  “He’s inside.” My brother steps back. “I’ll take you to him. But Alicia.” He swallows hard. His hands bracing my shoulders. “He’s in bad shape.”

  I bite my lip, nodding because if I speak all the emotion I’ve been holding back will surely explode. I’m not sure I’ll survive it. Right now I’m not sure of anything.

  “Come on.” Ricky wraps his arm around my shoulder and heads back toward the door, waiting until we’re buzzed inside. We walk the long hall and I keep my focus forward. I don’t want to see inside the other rooms. I can’t handle any more suffering. My pulse rushes in my ears and I realize I’m holding my breath.

  Ricky stops and reaches for the door handle to one of the rooms. “Alicia, he doesn’t look like himself right now, but I need you to be strong. I need you to promise me you’ll stay, that you won’t go dark on us.”

  “I promise,” I whisper, understanding what he means. My brothers are probably the only two who understand the toxicity and influence both my parents had in my drinking. They also know how hard I’ve worked to get sober. I blow out a long exhale and meet Ricky’s gaze, nodding.

  He pushes open the door and steps inside, holding it for me to enter.

  The first thing I notice is my mom. She’s sobbing, sitting in a chair that’s been pulled to the foot of the hospital bed. Eddie stands behind her, his hand on her back. He lifts his gaze to us and offers a smile that doesn’t radiate one ounce of joy, only relief.

  My eyes drift up the length of the hospital bed. There are so many wires. So many tubes. My father’s face is ashen. A gray that looks more like stone than human. His hair is out of place, poking out on one side in a way he never would approve. An impulsive need to fix it, brush it back where it belongs, overwhelms me. How can they just sit here and leave it that way? Daddy would be horrified to let anyone see him like this.

  The thoughts are not rational, but they hang in the back of my mind all the same.

  “Mom,” Ricky says. “Alicia’s here.”

  Her face lifts toward the door, her crumbled expression meeting mine. “Oh, baby.” She doesn’t stand, but her arms open wide.

  Like a little girl, I run to her. She holds me tight and together we cry. Relief fills me for the first time since she called. Not because everything’s going to be okay, but because we’re together. I’m not too late.

  71

  Alicia

  My father had a stroke. They’re not sure he’ll live, let alone make a full recovery. All we can do is wait while the doctors attempt to right what’s wrong inside his body.

  I wish I could fix this. I wish I could make things right.

  My mom finally passes out from sheer exhaustion sometime before midnight. My brothers and I hold silent vigil, moving from Dad’s side only when one of the doctors or nurses come in. My brothers whisper words of encouragement to our dad. You can do this. Fight through it. You’re a tough man, we’ve got faith in you.

  They speak as if Dad needs cheering on, or that if we stay positive enough he’ll pull through. Maybe that’s what he needs, but I can’t get myself to speak aloud. Mostly because what I have to say isn’t all that nice. I’m angry. Angry at him for being in this hospital bed. Mad that he may leave us too soon. Livid that he has a secret family somewhere and maybe I’m the only one who knows. If he doesn’t pull through, is it up to me to tell them? Or will I always hold his secret from the world?

  My knee bounces with restless energy. My jaw clenches tight with stress. I feel as if the walls in this room are closing in with every passing second. If I sit here long enough, maybe they’ll come crashing in on all of us.

  “Alicia, when was the last time you ate?” Eddie asks, dragging me from my own thoughts.

  “I don’t want to leave Mom.” I glance to where she’s sleeping. I’ve only been gone six weeks, yet she’s aged years. Did that all happen tonight?

  “Come on.” Eddie stands and stretches his arms overhead. “I’m starving. Ricky will stay with her. We’ve got to take care of ourselves.” He holds out his hand and helps pull me to my feet.

  “Okay.” I hate to leave, but it’s only a few floors away. “Text if you need us.” I glance back at my oldest brother.

  “I will,” Ricky says. “Bring me back a coffee.”

  We walk to the elevators and ride down to the cafeteria. It’s the middle of the night and practically a ghost town but for the few employees and hospital staff on their breaks. We stroll through the offerings, and while I’m impressed at the variety, nothing is appealing.

  The thought of eating anything sickens my stomach. I can’t imagine I’ll be able to keep much down until my dad’s in the clear. Or if he doesn’t make it. God, I hate thinking like that, but the reality of that fear is real.

  “I’m gonna get a breakfast sandwich.” Eddie points to the counter where there’s a small list of hot foods that are ready to order. “You don’t want anything,” he says knowingly.

  “Maybe a soda?” The carbonation might settle my stomach.

  “I’ll get it for you,” he says, and nods to the room beyond. It’s filled with tables and chairs but mostly empty at this hour. “Go sit down. And save me a seat.”

  I roll my eyes, but his lame joke brings some semblance of normalcy to this moment. Leaving him to wait for his food and pay, I find a table and sink into the chair. My body is exhausted, but my mind is hyper-aware, running through every possibility of what comes next. I feel out of control. Anxious. But I’m proud of myself because not one part of me wants to ge
t wasted. It’s progress.

  I pull out my phone to distract myself while I wait for Eddie. I almost send a text to Callie and Jill. They’d want to know. They’d be here for me. But I’m not ready for that conversation. It can wait. Of course, it’s Chase I want to text most, which is a horrible idea. My finger hovers over his name, pulling up the last text he sent. The photo of the kittens. God, that was only a few hours ago, but look how much has changed.

  I close out of my messages and open a few other apps. But it doesn’t take more than a few minutes before I’m tired of scrolling past everyone’s perfect and wonderful social media highlights. None of it’s real. I know this. Yet they’re not sitting in a hospital café wondering if their dad will make it through the night. Life is so unfair.

  Tired of my own thoughts, I click on my email app; that’s safe enough. I haven’t checked it all week, what with the center being so busy. I expect a few advertisements. Maybe a newsletter from one of my favorite authors. But the email sitting in my inbox—the one I’ve been dying to receive all summer—sucks the air straight from my lungs.

  FROM: Oxford University

  TO: Alicia Martin

  SUBJECT: Congratulations on your acceptance

  A thrill of excitement shoots through my limbs. I shout! Though it comes out more like a manic bubble of laughter. I click through and read the entire message. Then read it again to make sure I’m not hallucinating. I haven’t just been accepted. I’ve been offered a fellowship to the program of my dreams.

  “Is it Dad? Is he awake?” My brother’s hopeful expression slashes through my good mood. He sets the tray on the table. His eyes are wide and waiting.

  “No. Sorry, Eddie. It’s not that.” I’m a horrible person. Not only for giving him a false moment of hope, but for being so damn excited about anything right now.

  “Oh.” His shoulders fall with defeat and he slides into the chair across from me. He reaches for his plate of food and takes a few bites. When he glances up and finds my gaze, he sets his sandwich down. “Hey, it’s okay.” He reaches across the table for my hand and gives it a squeeze. “I don’t expect a miracle. I just misread your excitement.”