My eyes missile to his. “Youhavekids?”
Chase smirks while nodding. “Yeah. Two littlegirls.”
I take a step backward when my eyes shoot down to his hand and I notice a thick platinum band wrapped around his ringfinger.
“Holy shit, you’re married? Chase No-Girl-Is-Ever-Going-To-Catch-Me Marshall is married? Fuck, I’ve missedsomuch.”
Chase chuckles at my use of his old nickname in highschool.
“You have no clue how much you missed these past five years,” he says, slinging his arm around my injured shoulder and patting me on the back. “No fucking clue,” he mumbles under hisbreath.
He pulls away and glances into my eyes. His gaze is packed with unease. “I’ll see youtomorrow?”
I smirk, trying to ease his uncertainty. “I’llbehere.”
After throwing a punch into my chest, Chase ambles out of the room. I stare at the door, utterly dumbfounded. Chase was adamant no girl was ever going to tie him down. He always joked that is why our parents called him Chase. Because women would be chasing him across the country. Now he is married with two kids.Fuckingcrazy.
I rub a painful knot in my shoulder while pacing around my room. It looks exactly like it did the last time I was here.When I snatched Ava’s virginity.Same bedspread, faded border, even the pictures hanging on the wall are the same. There are so many memories here. Good ones, and ones that stillhauntme.
Being surrounded by silence makes my memories evenstronger.
As memories I try to keep hidden flood into me, the walls of my childhood room close in. I shake my head, begging for the images that plague my dreams with nightmares to vanish. When they become too great, I leap from my bed, snag my duffle bag from the floor and bolt down the stairs. I can’t stay here. It reminds me too much of her, and the time I stole Ava’svirginity.
The house is eerily quiet, not a peep can be heard. I’m halfway out the back door when recollections of me running five years ago smack into me.I can’t do that to them again. Ican’trun.
Snatching my mom’s shopping list off the fridge, I scribble down a quick note saying I’ll be back first thing in the morning. For extra reassurance, I add my untraceable cell phone number at the bottom ofthenote.
* * *
Forty-five minutes have tickedby before I pull my car into the driveway of Jorgie’s house. I’ve tried every motel in town, but due to the late hour and being Christmas, every motel within a twenty-mile radius is either booked up or closed. Although the memories of Jorgie are strong in her house, for the majority, they are goodmemories.
I turn off the ignition and crank open the door of mybabybefore walking up the cracked concrete path. After barely a wink of sleep last night and the events of today, I’m exhausted and barely standing straight. After rubbing my tired eyes, I run my hand along the top lip of the door, knowing it is the spot every Marshall family member hides theirsparekey.
“Third pot on the left,” whispers a voice to my side a short time later, scaring the living daylights outofme.
After gathering my heart off the floor, I focus my attention to thevoice.
“Mrs. Mable?” I ask, my surpriseevident.
Nothing against Mrs. Mable, but she would have be getting close to ninety, and that’s on agoodday.
“If you’re looking for the spare key, it’s under the third pot on the left,” sheinstructs.
I nod my head before moving to the scattering of pots lining the edge of the patio. A puff of air whizzes from my nostrils when I find a shiny gold key hidden under a small pot ofJapaneseYew.
“Thanks,” I praise, holding the key intotheair.
Pushing the key into the lock, I swing my eyes to Mrs. Mable. “Why aren’t they hiding the key on the door lip anymore?” Iquery.
“Jeez, do I look like a giraffe?” she gibes, waving her hand in the air like she is swattingafly.
A chuckle escapes my lips. Mrs. Mable reminds me of Estelle Getty, the actress who played Sophia Petrillo inThe Golden Girls. She is small and compact, but more explosive thandynamite.
“I keep my eyes on the place, make sure no one is up to any mischief,” Mrs. Mable explains, her tone bitchy. “You’re not up to any mischief, areyou,Hugo?”
She eyes me with suspicion. A brick lodges in my throat before I shake my head.Not todayI’mnot.
“Alright, then don’t let me hold you; it’s nearlythreeAM.”
