“Dogs never bite me. Just humans.”
~ Marilyn Monroe
Waiting in the reception area of the animal hospital for Dr. Adams, I stared at the message I’d just typed on my cell. The words blurred. It’s surprising how difficult it is to read small black letters on a white screen when your eyes are full of hot, stinging tears.
I read the words I’d written again. My chest felt like it was being crushed by an invisible weight.
It’s over. I can’t do this any more.
The sentence danced into black smudges as I blinked, and then cleared into sharp focus again. I stared at the words, branded them into my brain, my heart, and then hit Send. My cell vibrated in the way it does to let me know my message was on its way to its recipient. What would he do when he got it?
I shoved my cell into my pocket and rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes. Behind the counter, the same temp watched me with open curiosity, her gaze constantly flicking to my ears. What did she think I was going to do? Grow new ones?
Turning my back on her, I stared out the window at the parking lot and attempted to regain some control of my emotions. Would Caden be awake yet? Had he got my message? How was he going to react when he did? What was he going to do?
I swallowed, feeling like I was about to explode. I hadn’t really thought through what I was doing this morning when my cell had pinged with an incoming message. Caden had been so deeply asleep he hadn’t moved, hadn’t stirred when it pinged again.
I’d been lying beside him, trying to work out what the hell I was doing. Not just with Caden, but with me. With everything …
Two nights in a row spent with him in a motel room. Two nights of not going home. Two nights of ignoring Dad’s texts, and replying to Mom’s with I’m okay. Mom. Don’t worry about me.
Two nights in Caden’s arms, singularly the most wonderful place I’ve ever fallen asleep.
And then, yesterday, I’d foolishly let myself read one of Donald’s texts. It was an eloquent one. Long for him.
I miss you, babe. I’ve been thinking a lot of how badly I treated you. I know you were too good for me, and I’m not surprised there are other men wanting you. But do those other men give you what you really want? I can. If you give me another chance. Please, give me another chance. I miss you. D.
Other men. I didn’t need to be a genius to know he was referring to Caden.
My stomach had knotted, a moment of guilt so potent it physically sickened me. Standing in the animal hospital beside Doofus’s cage, with Caden right next to me, I’d wanted nothing more than to throw my cell across the small room and have it smash against the wall. How dare he do this to me again? How dare he.
Heart wild, I’d tapped back a simple response.
Donald, I can’t keep playing this game. It’s destroying me. Please stop.
I ignored everything he’d sent after that. In fact, I’d shut my cell off. I didn’t need it. I was confused enough without his contributions. I’d been hell bent on keeping Caden at arm’s length and yet, here I was, doing the exact opposite.
Yeah, me and confusion were on really close terms.
Those close terms got even closer when I’d asked Caden to kiss me. When I climbed onto his lap …
Goddamn it, I was falling in love with him. What the hell was I doing?
I didn’t sleep much after that. My head was a turbulent mess of confusion and uncertainty when my cell pinged in the morning.
Trying not to disturb him, I’d grabbed it up and read the message from Dr. Adams. And then scrambled to my feet as quickly as I could, chest tight.
Doofus was deteriorating.
I’d located my discarded clothes and pulled them on. Caden had continued to sleep. Chewing on my bottom lip, I’d touched his knee. He didn’t wake. I’d squeezed his thumb and given his hand a bit of a shake. He still didn’t wake. Clearly he was exhausted.
I knew the feeling. I was emotionally drained from the last forty-eight hours. Caden was probably physically drained as well. Jet lagged. Exhausted. And dealing with my shit without a word.
He knew Donald was messing with my head. He knew I was confused. He knew all that, and yet he continued to be Caden – the guy I’d tried to convince myself I didn’t want anything to do with.
Huh. We’d so moved beyond that. We’d so moved beyond “Caden O’Dae could bite me.” He had. More than once, exquisite nips of my lips, my nipples, my shoulder, my hip … He’d made me feel incredible. Special. Beautiful.
And he’d whispered something in my completely deaf ear. Twice.
It hadn’t worried me at all the first time. Not at all. In fact, it had filled my tummy with a lovely warmth. He would have only slipped up like that if my hearing issues meant nothing to him. With a lifetime of being defined by my poor hearing by those around me, someone forgetting it was pretty close to wonderful.
But that wonderful feeling only confused me more when it came to what my end goal with Caden had originally been: to not fall for him.
When he’d whispered in my deaf ear while we were making love however … that messed me up. Not because he forgot, but because I couldn’t hear him.
I couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t hear the words he was sharing with me.
Words I’m sure, in my heart and soul, were words more important and profound than any ever uttered to me before. And I couldn’t hear them.
I couldn’t hear them because I was defective. Faulty.
How could I expect Caden to deal with that, when I couldn’t deal with it?
I know it’s wrong to let something like that fuck me up, but it did. It made me even more confused about who I was.
He’d whispered to me last night, as we came together. Whispered words I didn’t hear. Words I wanted to hear so badly, even as I argued with myself that I didn’t.
He’d moved from the chair to the bed, while I’d cleaned my teeth, staring at my reflection in the mirror, trying to fathom what was going on in my head. I’d come out of the bathroom and found him asleep on “his” side, snoring softly. The fact we already had sides filled me with a happiness I didn’t want to think about.
My lips had curled into a smile before I realized it. So much for not succumbing to Caden’s charms. I’d smiled more since he arrived, laughed more, felt more than I had in months. Since the moment Donald told me it was over, in fact.
Did this mean I was acknowledging Caden was more to me than just an acquaintance? Could I maintain that simple concept any longer, when I’d been the one who practically dragged him into a motel room? When I’d lost myself to the pleasure of his touch? When I’d bolted from the room in search of condoms to take our relationship to a level I had previously sworn had no hope of occurring?
Without any answers presenting themselves, only more questions I wasn’t ready to deal with (like, did I really want to be in a relationship with a guy who lived on the other side of the world?), I’d curled up on my side of the bed, facing him, and fallen asleep.
My dreams had been … disconcerting. In them, Caden and Donald played what I think was chess, although every move resulted in them inflicted with wounds from invisible blows, until they were both bloody, bruised and whining. And during the whole game the sound of blaring car horns wailed constantly.
I don’t remember who won the game, only that I wished the car horns would stop and the whining would cease.
The need to pee had woken me before the victor claimed his prize – which I think was me. My heart a thumping hammer in my ears, I’d climbed from the bed, padded to the bathroom and peed, and then returned to the bed.
I didn’t go back to sleep. Instead, I watched Caden, tracing his face with my eyes. I knew it so well by now, and yet, lying there watching him sleep, I noticed things I hadn’t noticed before. Like the occasional strands of ginger-gold in his trim beard, like the dark-honey straightness of his eyebrows. Like the way the lashes at the very edges of his eyes curled so much more than the rest.
I think I could have lain there forever just looking at him, my mind disconnected from reality, drifting instead on an intangible mist of what could be a wonderful thing …
And then the message from Dr. Adams had arrived:
Need you here ASAP. Your dog’s vitals are critical.
I’d spun into some kind of panic mode. I can’t really explain it. I’d attached a ridiculous amount of emotion to that dog in a short space of time. The fact he wasn’t doing well …
Before truly considering the consequences of my actions, and not wanting to disturb Caden from the sleep he so obviously needed, I’d scribbled the word vet on the motel-supplied note pad and then left, driving straight to the animal hospital. Doofus needed to see someone who loved him, and I know it makes fuck-all sense, but I was in love with that dog already.
Along the way I’d received three messages from Donald – all wondering where I was and asking when he could see me again – and ignored four incoming calls from him. I wish I could tell you the sight of his name on my cell’s screen didn’t bother me but unfortunately, I’d be lying if I did. Despite everything that had happened between me and Caden, the second Donald’s name appeared on my screen my tummy twisted into a granny knot that would give a knot expert a migraine.
Something had to be done about it. Standing in the reception area, waiting for Dr. Adams to arrive, I’d typed out the last text I ever intended to send to Professor Douchebag – It’s over. I can’t do this any more.
So there I was, expecting Donald’s response, my stare fixed outside, my pulse crazy, when a hand touched the back of my right shoulder with gentle pressure.
I spun around in a wild semi-pirouette, chest tight.
Dr. Adams smiled, and then gave me a confused frown. “Where’s Caden?”
“Asleep.”
His eyebrows rose.
“He’s jet lagged,” I said quickly. “He only landed in LA two mornings ago.”
Dr. Adams held up a hand, as if sensing the agitation in my voice. “It’s okay, Chase. Unfortunately, there’s nothing he can do here anyway.”
The knot in my stomach turned into a seismic ache. “Is Doofus … is he still alive?”
Dr. Adams nodded, but I saw no hope in his eyes.
“Can I see him?”
“He’s not good, Chase,” he cautioned.
“I watched my baby nephew almost die from leukemia,” I shot back, frustration slicing at me like hot razor blades. “I can handle seeing a dying dog.”
Dr. Adams frowned, and then nodded. He held out his arm toward the door behind the counter. My feet didn’t want to move. My eyes burned, the tears I’d only just reined in once more threatening to undo me.
In my pocket, my cell pinged and vibrated into life.
Dr. Adams looked at me. “When you’re ready, Chase,” he murmured.
Giving him a jerky nod, I pulled out my phone and looked at the screen. Donald had sent me a text.
Seeing you at the airport made me realize how much I miss you, babe. Please believe me when I say I will make amends for hurting you. I want you back. I will fight for you if I have to. I will chase you. I need you. I will look after you. Protect you. D.
I read those eight sentences three times, my head roaring. The biting taint of disinfectant filled my every breath. I was about to shove my cell back into my pocket when it vibrated in my hand.
I know you were with the Australian. I understand. And forgive you. D.
Angry flooded through me. Both at Donald and myself.
Forgive me? He was going to forgive me? For being with Caden? Professor Douchebag was going to forgive me? Where the freaking fuck did he get off telling me he forgave me?
I was very much with the Australian. There was no denying it. Not after the last two nights. Very much with him and very much contemplating being with him even more, so why the hell was my heart thumping so hard at the words I miss you? From Donald? Why the hell was my tummy clenching at I will make amends? And what the fuck was my body doing reacting to I will look after you. Protect you?
What the fuck was wrong with me? Why did he make me feel this … this stupid, messed-up, pathetic, ridiculous desire for him?
No, desire was wrong. Desire is too strong a word, too positive. It wasn’t desire, it was a craving. The kind a junkie experienced when desperate for a hit of the very thing they know is going to kill them. I hated that sensation. It tainted everything else.
Fuck.
I’d deal with Donald later. After this. Right now, all I knew was that a dog I barely knew, a dog that had been rejected, was dying and alone.
Alone and in pain.
Jesus.
Ramming my cell into my pocket, I smiled a wavery smile at Dr. Adams. He touched my shoulder, his answering smile sad, and walked us out the back. Little Miss Regrowth tracked my path the whole way, curiosity on her face.
The stench of animal feces assaulted me the second we passed through the door to the back section. I tried not to gag but failed. The smell in an animal hospital is seriously worse than the smell in a pet shop, trust me. Maybe it has something to do with all the drugs and medication the animals are on.
As I crossed to Doofus’s open cage, he rolled his dark liquid-brown eyes at me and thumped his tail.
“Hey boy,” I whispered. “I’m here.”
Doofus thumped his tail again. That was his only movement.
“What happened?” I asked, feathering my palm over his side as I looked at Dr. Adams. “I thought he was recovering? Yesterday he was so good.”
“Doofus became dehydrated and seemed weak and uninterested in food or water. Not a good sign,” he said. “Unfortunately, we think he’s suffering from a post-op infection. The vet on duty last night, Dr. Simmons, administered intravenous antibiotics, but so far Doofus is not responding the way he should. Sometimes this happens to big dogs when they try to move. Unfortunately, because Doofus doesn’t have a properly formed back leg his weight redistribution has caused uneven movement.”
“So he’s dying because he’s defective?” The question coated my mouth in bile.
Of course, that wasn’t the case. Doofus was dying because he sustained massive injuries from being hit by a car. But my brain didn’t want to let me see that. My brain wanted me to see a dog who was getting kicked by life over and over because he was like me – not functioning properly.
Dr. Adams’s chest rose and fell with a sigh I didn’t hear. Pity filled his eyes as his focus flicked to my ears, just for a second. “No, Chase,” he said. “He’s not dying because he’s defective. And as long as he can start responding to the antibiotics, there’s a very good chance he’s not dying, period. We have to wait and see. And pray.”
I scrunched up my face and turned back to Doofus. Pray. Huh. Praying had done sweet F A for me when I was a little girl, begging God to make my ears work so my daddy wouldn’t be so disappointed with me. Praying had done even less when I’d tried once again to beg Him to take Tanner’s leukemia away.
Yeah, praying wasn’t an option.
Stroking Doofus’s side, I bit at the inside of my lip and blinked at my tears. Life is a fucking big pile of poo sometimes.
In my back pocket, my cell pinged again. Doofus pricked his ears. Not a lot, but a little. His eyes rolled toward me again, and once more his tail moved slightly.
Until that point in time I didn’t think it possible to miss someone like I missed Caden. I wanted him there so much. I needed him there. To comfort the dog he’d saved, to say goodbye to him. To hold me and tell me it was going to be okay. I needed more than anything to press my cheek to his chest and feel the words vibrating against my ear.
Why hadn’t I woken him? Why was I doing this alone?
My phone pinged again. Doofus’s ears pricked as before, and then he closed his eyes.
My heart stopped. “Doofus?” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. I wasn’t an animal expert like Caden, but I could tell they weren’t working properly.
“What are his chances if he doesn’t start responding?” I asked, without looking at Dr. Adams.
If he answered, I didn’t hear him. At times being Hard of Hearing is a blessing. Instead, I felt his answer in a warm hand on my arm. And then I felt it in the way he walked away and left me alone.
Life is fucking horrible. I pressed my forehead to Doofus’s and closed my eyes. I’m not sure how long I stayed there for. Long enough for the tears leaking from my eyes to dry to taut tracks of salt on my cheeks. Long enough for me to decide I hated the world. It sucked. The world laughed at any attempts we made to exist in it without pain. Just when we thought we had the world figured out, what our job was in it, it ripped that misguided knowledge away from us.
When I finally lifted my head, Doofus licked my fingers and wagged his tail slightly. I wished he hadn’t. It only made my heart hurt more.
“We could have been so awesome together,” I whispered.
He licked my fingers again. I couldn’t help but notice how dry his tongue was. I wished Caden was here to tell me what that meant.
I turned and walked away from Doofus. I had to. I couldn’t stay there any longer. Back in the waiting room my cell vibrated in my pocket. I ignored it. There was no one I wanted to talk to at the moment.
Okay, that was bullshit. I wanted to talk to Caden. I fixed my burning eyes on the brunette strip of hair belonging to Little Miss Regrowth and tapped my fingers on the smooth surface of the counter.
She jerked her head up, discomfort and trepidation on her face. “Yes?” she shouted.
The urge to shake her crashed through me. Thankfully, I ignored that as effectively as I ignored my buzzing phone. “Can you please let Dr. Adams know I’ve left?”
“Sure,” she continued to shout. “Is the dog dead?”
I studied her, then leaned a little closer toward her. “What do you want to do with your life?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Because whatever it is,” I continued, “make sure you don’t have to interact with people. Because you suck at it.”
Not waiting for her response, I turned and left.
The morning sun lashed at me as I crossed the parking lot, bouncing off the Speeding Dragon’s windshield in blinding shards. I winced and squinted. Great. There went another one of my working senses.
I shoved my hand into my bag to retrieve my sunglasses when my cell started vibrating in my pocket once more. Pulling my hand out of my bag, I dug out my phone and rammed it to my ear. “Stop calling me,” I snarled.
“It’s tricky for me to make you forgive me,” Donald’s smoke-and-whiskey voice rumbled in my ear, “if you don’t come to see me when you promise.”
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest like a goddamn cannon. And then I let out a hitching whimper when a taxi drew to a halt directly in front of me and Caden climbed from the back seat.
*
I hadn’t gotten a US SIM card for my phone yet. I’d intended to get one at LAX but when I’d found Chase with Donald the Dude that plan had gotten lost in my head. Then I’d planned to get one soon as we arrived in San Diego, but Doofus had entered our lives and once again, I’d forgotten all about it.
Fortunately I’ve got an iPhone, which means as long as I’ve got a Wi-Fi connection I can text and FaceTime for free to other iPhone users. Thank you, Steve Jobs. That meant Mum and Dad back in Australia could chat to me as often as they liked while I was over here.
On the assumption my phone was charged, of course. Which it wasn’t. It had been over forty-eight hours since I touched down and the thought of charging my phone hadn’t crossed my mind. Thank God I’d asked Brendon to let Mum and Dad know I’d arrived and was A-OK.
So when I woke up to find Chase AWOL I did more than kick myself that I’d yet to plug my phone into a power point. I’m not going to tell you what I said. Probably better you hang onto the idea I’m a civilized person in crisis for a while longer. Nor do you want to hear what I said as I upended my bag, searching for the universal adaptor I’d brought with me from Australia.
I set my phone to charge and then stomped around the motel room for a bit, frowning at everything. Discovering I had no way of contacting Chase directly was frustrating. Especially after yesterday. It didn’t occur to me to use the landline in the motel room. I’m going to blame being half asleep and flustered beyond all logical thought.
It took me longer than it should have to find the message from her on the notepad. The penny dropped a second after my brain processed the bad news about Doofus: Chase must have gone to the animal hospital.
How do I know this?
A little backstory about my past experience with Chase, if I may.
The day after my bone marrow had been transplanted into Tanner, I had a reaction to the general anesthesia. Classified as severe hypothermia, I had chills and was shivering so badly my body began to shut down. Scared the crap out of me.
Suffice to say, when I began to lose feeling in my extremities and couldn’t breathe properly, I was rushed to the ER. By the time I arrived, I was convulsing violently. When all this happened, Chase was at work at the pet shop. I’m not sure why, but Amanda sent her a text telling her I was on the way to hospital. At this point in our relationship, Chase had rarely acknowledged my existence with anything other than the odd grunt, rolled eyes and sarcastic snipes about my beard.
Apparently the second she got the text, she bolted from the pet shop – mid interaction with a customer who was, according to Brendon, buying a sulphur-crested cockatoo for $450 dollars, a bird so common in Australia it’s considered a pest.
I regained consciousness in the hospital with a burning throat and a gnawing hunger, to find a scowling Chase sitting beside my bed. She denies it, but Amanda tells me she sat there the entire time I was out of it, complaining about how goddamn inconsiderate I was and how she’d lost a sweet commission on a sale.
When I came to, she grunted at me, told me I needed a haircut and left. I didn’t see her for the rest of the time I was in hospital.
That’s Chase. She’s impulsive. She springs into action the second her gut tells her to. Her heart is massive no matter how much she tries to convince people otherwise.
The second I read the word vet written on the notepad, I knew exactly where Chase was. I’m not going to lie, relief rushed through me for a selfish moment. She hadn’t taken off because of us, she’d taken off because Doofus was in trouble.
I dressed quickly, and checked my phone. 12% charge. That would have to do.
Thanking God for free motel Wi-Fi, I tapped out a text to Brendon telling him Doofus had taken a turn for the worse and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to San Diego. I stuffed my phone, charger and adaptor into my duffle bag and then hailed a taxi. I told the driver I was in a hurry and then sat in the back for the entire trip, fidgeting with worry. Freaking LA traffic meant it took me longer than I hoped to get there. Seriously, LA traffic is insane. How do people not go crazy? Peak-hour traffic in Melbourne is like a trickling stream compared to LA.
Chase was out the front of the Laguna Niguel Animal Hospital when my taxi pulled up in the parking area. I knew before opening the door she was not in a good place, emotionally. What I didn’t know was why, but I hoped to hell it was something I could fix. Or at least, something I could help her through. I’ve been the emotional support for more than one pet owner who’s had to say goodbye to their beloved animal, and while I wanted nothing more than to walk into Dr. Adams’ clinic and see Doofus alive and well, I was bracing myself for the fact that wasn’t the case, and that Chase had been there to see him pass. Or worse still, when he was euthanized.
I didn’t want her experiencing that kind of emotional hell. It sucks. It hurts. It tears you apart and leaves you feeling raw. And given Chase had ridden the emotional rollercoaster of Tanner’s battle with leukemia right alongside her sister, being with the dog she’d helped save when it was put to sleep – a dog with a disability that I suspected Chase felt a powerful affinity for – would be enough to break her heart all over again.
I paid the driver and closed the cab door, my eyes locked on her face. I crossed to where she stood, watching me, her mobile clamped to the side of her head. My gut clenched into a cold ball when she turned her back to me.
“I wanted to be here, Donald,” I heard her say into the phone.
Great. Donald the Dude was in her ear. Great. Fucking great.
“I know,” she said, still with her back to me. Discomfort radiated from her. She gripped her upper arm with fingers that were white. “Yes, I know. But I—”
He said something to make her fall quiet. To make her shoulders slump. I had no idea what it was, but I wanted to punch him for it. I’m not a violent person, hell, even on the rugby field I’m more about speed and fancy footwork than brute force and crunching bones, but right at that moment the need to smash my fist into Donald the Dude’s perfect jaw almost crippled me.
I stopped a few feet from Chase, chest tight, and watched her. She shuffled her feet and shook her head. It was a weird habit she had – shaking her head while on the phone when the person on the other end had no hope of seeing it. I found it completely endearing.
“Why?” she said suddenly. An uneasy prickling heat crept up the back of my neck and over my scalp at the harrowed conflict in her voice. “I don’t understand, Donald. After all this time, why are you so determined to—”
She stopped, nodding her head.
“Okay,” she said finally.
Holy fuck, I didn’t like the sound of that word passing her lips – lips I’d tasted only the night before.
“No, I don’t think I will. I’ve told you we’re done. I can’t keep doing … Okay, I’ll call you when I get—”
For whatever reason, she didn’t say the word back. What she did do was hang up and shove the phone into her pocket.
I waited until she turned to face me. When her eyes found mine, I offered a gentle smile. “You weren’t there when I woke. Is everything okay?”
She shook her head. “No. Doofus has an infection.”
I wanted to tell her I was asking about her, about us, but I didn’t.
“An infection?” I echoed. “I’m assuming he’s now on antibiotics?”
She nodded this time. Agitation radiated from her, thick and disquieting.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, smoothing my palms up her arms as I smiled again. “Trust me.”
A shaky sigh fell from her. “Caden …” she began.
Pink started singing “Walk of Shame” from her pocket.
Before I could stop it, I rolled my eyes and let out an exasperated growl. “The guy doesn’t take a hint, does he?”
Chase frowned. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed. “Do you want to get it? Answer it? If you don’t, I guarantee he’ll ring again in a few seconds. I’ve noticed he does that.”
I was starting to get angry, which was worrisome. I didn’t do anger. I did jokes. The trouble was, I didn’t seem to be doing them right now either.
“No.” Chase shook her head. “I don’t want to answer it.”
My gut clenched at the tension in her answer. It was my turn to sigh. “Chase,” I said, “I have to tell you something. I should have told you before now, but I keep putting if off.”
Her frown deepened. She pulled away from me. A little. “What?”
Pink suddenly topped singing, Donald’s call no doubt now going to Chase’s voicemail.
“Ah fuck,” I muttered, rubbing at the back of my neck. “The other night when you went out to get condoms, Donald the Dude called.”
Chase’s expression grew still.
“And I answered,” I finished.
She didn’t blink. She stared up at me, unmoving. “What did you say?”
My stomach clenched again. A hot ball filled my throat. I could have spun some bullshit about not really saying anything, but I wasn’t a liar. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to lie to Chase. “I told him you were going to be too busy to call him back.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parted and she gasped, recoiling a little from me. “You what?”
“I told him you weren’t available to talk and that you’d be too busy when you got back,” I said. Holy crap, my chest felt like it was being crushed in an invisible vise.
“Why did you do that?”
“Why?” I raised my eyebrows. “Because the guy is a dick, Chase. Because when I first saw you with him at the airport, you looked uncomfortable. Because when he touched you back there, you visibly flinched. Because he won’t leave you the fuck alone no matter how many times you ignore his calls or texts, or tell him not to. That’s why.”
“And you think that’s your job? To guard me from men like Donald Perry?”
I should have caught the warning in her voice. I should have clamped down on my rising anger. I didn’t. I should have tried for a witty comeback to defuse the situation. That was my normal modus operandi. But then, I also shouldn’t have waited this long to tell her what I’d done. For a guy who’s pretty switched on, I was being rather idiotic. “If you’re not going to protect yourself, Chase, then someone has to.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. And then pivoted on her heel and hurried away from me.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
“Chase,” I yelled, running after her. I grabbed at her elbow but she shrugged me off and kept walking. “Chase, wait.”
She didn’t. Instead, she raised her hands so I could see them above her head and signed fuck off.
I quickened my pace, running past her. She didn’t look at me.
“Chase.” I stopped directly in her path, holding out my palms toward her. “Wait.”
She came to a halt, her glare hot. “Do you have any idea how it feels to discover people think you are incapable of looking after yourself?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I protested.
She arched an eyebrow at me. “Try again, O’Dae. This time with the truth.”
I opened my mouth. And then closed it again. The truth was exactly what she’d suggested: I was worried she couldn’t make the right decision when it came to the Art History professor. But for fuck’s sake, I loved her. I was allowed to be worried. Especially when this dick wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Chase,” I said for the fourth time. What I was going to say after that had yet to enter my head.
“Yep.” She crossed her arms over her chest, stare fixed on my face. “That’s me. The girl everyone seems to think needs to be treated like a toddler.”
“Bet you’d look cute in pigtails,” I said, even as I knew the flippant line really wasn’t going to help. But as I said, it was my normal way of dealing with confrontation. Laugh it off. Joke about it. Ignore the anger. Smother it with witty comebacks.
She threw up her hands. “So, treat me like I’m a baby and then make jokes? You know what, O’Dae? I need to go. Away.” She stabbed her finger toward the ground at her feet. “From here. Now.”
That invisible vise around my chest clamped tighter. “Chase …” I began.
She turned before I could say anything else. “Don’t follow me,” she threw over her shoulder as she hurried toward the Speeding Dragon.
I stood stock-still, unsure what to do or say. “Please let me fix this,” I called, watching her pull her car keys from her bag.
She stopped, shoulders slumping. “Don’t, Caden,” she called back without looking at me.
My heart tore at the wretched contempt in her voice.
The sound of Pink sheared through the air. I ground my teeth.
Chase dug her phone out of her pocket, looked at the screen and then turned to me, phone extended. “Want to talk to him?”
“For God’s sake,” I said, incapable of holding back my frustration. Why wasn’t she seeing what Donald the Dude was doing was wrong? How could she not be worried about him? “The guy’s practically stalking you with how often he calls.”
“He does it because he thinks I may not have heard my phone the first time,” she shot back.
I threw up my hands. “So, not a stalker. Just a condescending dickhead, then. I feel infinitely better for you now.”
“Go to hell, Caden,” she snarled. She swung back to the car and yanked the door open, Pink still singing.
The situation slammed into me: what I’d said, how I’d hurt her. “Chase,” I said, raising my voice to almost a shout.
She paused, but didn’t look at me. Pink fell silent. I’ve been a Pink fan for as long as I can remember, but honestly, right then, if I never heard that song again it would be too soon.
“He’s not good enough for you,” I said, watching her back. “No one is. But if you let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be.” A wry laugh I knew she wouldn’t hear rattled in my chest. “No joke.”
Looking over her shoulder, she scowled. “I don’t need to be protected.”
“Have you ever thought,” I took one step – just one – closer to her, “that those trying to protect you do so because they love you?”
Her scowl slipped. She closed her eyes and turned back to her car. “I’m going. I’ll call you later.”
And without another word, another look at me, she lowered herself into the driver’s seat, closed the door and started the car.
Not a single funny, witty or sarcastic thought came to me. Not one. All I had was my churning gut, my thick throat, and a rising feeling everything I’d hoped for was slipping through my fingers.
Everything.
“Drive safely,” I said, the words barely a murmur as she pulled out of the parking area onto the street and drove away from me.
Crap.