“That’s ambitious,” I said. Not like I was doubting her, but—okay, I was doubting her.
“She said to tell you to be here at six, and not to be late,” Mom said. “I’m taking bets on whether or not it’ll be ready by bedtime, and at what point she’ll throw in the towel and we’ll order pizzas.”
“I’ll make the garlic bread,” I said.
Mom gave me a hug. “Are you sure you’re doing okay, hon?”
I hugged her back. “Getting there, yeah.”
And really, that was the best I could hope for. What had Mom said about the woman at her salon sleeping with the guy from the business next door?Don’t shit where you eat.Which was solid advice, except I hadn’t been looking for advice when Chase had come on hard and fast. I’d been looking for anything he could give me, which, it turned out, hadn’t been enough. I should have known from the start that he’d never invite me behind the walls he’d built. The whole point of them was that there was no room there for anyone except him and Cash.
Just another thing that made my heart ache, and not just for me but for them too.
I just wished things were different, for all the good that did.
“Get Sam to text me if she needs me to stop at the grocery store on my way home,” I said.
“I think she’s got it covered,” Mom said, “but I’ll let her know. Have a good day, hon.”
“You too.”
The drive to Goose Run wasn’t a long one, and I was starting to know it pretty well by now. Each bend, each turn, each dip in the road, and each pothole. Goose Run didn’t have a lot going on, especially so early in the morning, but Main Street, with its old shop fronts and its white church, was pretty. Maybe Bobby should have put a nice photograph of that on the postcards he sold at the gas station instead of the cartoon goose giving the thumbs-up that Tyler had shown me with astonished glee.
I pulled into the parking lot at the back of the bakery. Tyler’s truck wasn’t here yet, and I checked the time. I was running a little early, so I figured I’d sit here and listen to the end of the song on my playlist.
Which was right when a hooded figure loomed up in my window. My heart kicked up a few frantic beats, and I was sureI was about to be mugged. Who knew the criminal underbelly of Goose Run wasn’t just Lucille?
Then the figure pulled back the hood and glared and said, “Hey.”
“Jesus Christ,” I said. I opened the door. “You scared the shit out of me, Chase. What are you doing here so early?”
He shrugged. “Thought we could talk.”
He was curled in on himself and it was still cold and dark out, so I said, “Get in.”
He got in on the passenger side and stared at the floor, practically vibrating with tension. It took until the song wound down before he spoke.
“My parents were pretty fucked up.”
I wasn’t sure what he expected me to say to that, so I stayed silent.
Chase fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “I’m kind of fucked up too.” He glanced across at me and then looked away again. “I’m not good at trusting people.”
That wasn’t news, but it surprised me that he’d said it out loud.
“I’m not good at admitting when I’ve messed up,” he said. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, then added, “And I’m not good at apologizing.”
I nodded to encourage him to keep talking, except then he turned the full force of his glare on me like he was waiting for a response and was pissed that I hadn’t given him one. “Oh,” I said. “Shit. Is this an apology?”
His glare, impossibly, grew more intense.
“You’re right,” I said. “You’re not good at apologizing.”
Look, even if he murdered me after I said that, it was still worth it because it was hilarious. And maybe Chase thought so too, just a little bit, because the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Well, I’m sorry too,” I said. “I’m sorry your parents were fucked up and I’m sorry you and Cash have been through some awful shit. That really sucks.”
Chase’s expression morphed into that one I’d rarely seen, and only in fleeting glimpses. His eyes widened and he looked achingly vulnerable. And for once he didn’t look away or bury it under a glare or an insult. “Yeah, it did.”
