I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(44)

Maybe Chase feels the pull too, because he places his hands on my shoulders, his lips at my ear. “All done, sweet girl,” he murmurs, his warm breath caressing my neck and giving me goose bumps.

Our bodies are so close, touching, but not. Heat radiates from his chest to my back. His proximity, his lips at my ear, I am left all aflutter. But then Chase breaks the spell when he gives my newly secured ponytail a little flip and steps away.

When we start to walk once more, I cannot stop smiling. I glance over at Chase, and though he stares straight ahead, I see a grin on his lips too.

I decide this day with Chase Gartner—my friend, my maybe-possibility—is the best one yet.




The weekend is weird with no Chase, no lunches with him at the diner. I do see my sharply dressed boy on Sunday, at Mass. He’s sitting in his usual spot in the back, and I’m sitting with Missy and her mom.

I find it odd that Missy doesn’t glance back even once to where Chase is seated, nor does she urge me to do so. Nonetheless, I steal a peek on my own and when Chase looks up I give him a quick wave. He smiles and waves back, and then he bows his head.

When I turn back to Missy she’s glaring at me. “Why are you waving to him?” she hisses.

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know, Why not? You’re the one who’s always going on and on about how hot he is. What’s with the change in attitude anyway?”

She snorts. “He may be hot, Kay, but he’s also a real prick.” She says this low, so her mom doesn’t hear.

The organ music begins to play so I don’t have a chance to ask anything more. But I have to wonder: Did Chase do something to piss Missy off? I didn’t think they really knew each other all that well, but maybe I’m mistaken. Or, maybe her crush has just run its course. Who knows? Who cares? I let the thought slip away as I open my hymnal.

The minute Mass ends, Chase is out the door, which is just as well. I have my weekly visit to attend to. But this week when I kneel at Sarah’s grave I don’t just tell her three more things I’ll never forget about her. I also tell her all about my new friend, Chase Gartner.

“I think you’d like him,” I say while clearing grass clippings from her marker. “He has a younger sibling too. A brother named Will. He’s turning fifteen soon.”

I pick up the tiny bouquet of wild violets from last week. It’s wilted and dried. I sigh and put it back. “Chase doesn’t say it outright, Sarah, but I can tell he misses his little brother. It’s kind of sad. He told me Will won’t talk to him anymore. And the look on his face…I just don’t know.”

I exhale loudly and think about how Chase quietly told me on one of our walks back to the church that his brother hates him for going to prison. I’d suspected as much. Anyway, Will refuses to respond to any of Chase’s calls or texts. I told him I feel confident his little brother’s cold shoulder won’t last forever. That made him smile.

What I didn’t say is that Will is alive, not gone like Sarah. And where there’s life, forgiveness always has the chance to prevail.




The next two weeks are more of the same. Lunches with Chase go on, and we continue to learn more and more about one another. There are smiles and laughter, playing and flirting, and more confiding.

Something I keep to myself, however, are my feelings for this man. They’ve deepened considerably and Chase is becoming more than just a very good friend. He represents life and friendship, two things that were seriously lacking in my pre-Chase existence. But it’s more than just the hope and possibility Chase shows me that draws me to him. There’s definitely something else, something strong, something burning. I don’t know, though, if I’m ready to label all these foreign emotions I’m feeling. Maybe that’s because I have a secret I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to share. And that bothers me, because we’re starting to share just about everything.

Chase and I share a lot, we’ve become much more open, but I still can’t bring myself to divulge the biggest secret I hold—the facts surrounding what really happened the night Sarah died. I worry if I confess to Chase what role I played—or the things I should have done, but didn’t—he’ll see me as a different person. What if that happens and he turns away? Losing him would hurt badly. Just the thought alone leaves my stomach heavy and knotted. I don’t know if I can take that kind of a chance. So, for now, I keep this secret hidden.

I push these thoughts away as I work through another Monday morning, the start of the last week of June. This Monday is the same as most. I am sitting at my desk, counting down the hours till lunchtime with my guy.

At five to twelve, I am out the door, and, within minutes, halfway down the steps to the gymnasium, where Chase is working on repairing one of the backboards.

I catch sight of him and stop in my tracks.

He’s up on a ladder, and since today is a scorcher, especially in the non-air-conditioned school, my gorgeous friend isn’t wearing a shirt. Chase’s entire upper body is bare, all toned and hard and tight. He even has a little bit of a tan from the work he does outside. His jeans hang low on his hips, revealing two indentations on either side of his lower back, right above the band of his black boxer briefs.

I fan myself a little and catch my breath. His lower body is nothing short of amazing—strong legs, great ass— but my eyes return to his bare back, to where ink I had no idea existed is on full and vivid display. I can’t help but stare. I’m frankly mesmerized by the intricacy and beauty of the tattoos Chase has on his back and shoulders.