I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(94)

Chase gathers me in his arms and rocks me while I weep softly, tears for Sarah, tears for all that’s been lost, tears for all my weakness, tears for my irresponsibility. Finally, when I have nothing left, Chase loosens his hold and I sit back.

I place my hand on my chest and take a deep breath, while my attentive boy swipes wet streaks from my cheeks and smoothes back my hair.

I whisper forlornly, “I want to tell you, Chase. And I’m more than ready to tell you. But I don’t know how to tell you.”

Chase appears to consider this quandary we’re in.

A beat passes, and then he gently says, “I have an idea, okay? It may not work. But then again, it just might.”

“All right,” I whisper, willing to try anything at this point.

My boy nods, smiles tightly, and kisses my cheek. He then twists on the swing—the chains creaking in protest—until his back is facing me. I stare at strong, wide shoulders, covered by a taut white tee.

Suddenly, it dawns on me what my boy is doing. Chase has found a solution. Sharing my secret may be less difficult if I don’t have to face him directly. My mother’s reaction all those years ago has obviously scarred me, but this, this may just work for me.

His cotton tee is worn and thin, so the darker inked portions of the tattoos lying beneath the material are not so hidden.

Hmm…

There may be one more thing we can do to almost guarantee this experiment is successful.

Slowly, I lift the hem at the back of Chase’s shirt. He glances over his shoulder to see what I’m up to. My eyes meet his. “May I?” I ask, hem in hand.

Realization dawns in his blues, he knows me well enough that he quickly figures out what I’m trying to do—share my secret with the angel on his back. It seems appropriate. In fact, it feels right. So right that when Chase lifts and tugs his shirt over his head, the words I’ve been trying to say start to bubble to the surface.

My eyes stay fixed on the angel. The wings, the falling feathers remain in the periphery. But they don’t go unnoticed. If Chase’s wings are broken, then mine are shattered. Maybe that’s why we work so well together, why we have from the very beginning. Some things are meant to be, and Chase and I have been destined from day one. We are two broken people who, when put together, become whole.

I reach out and tentatively touch the angel. A shiver runs down my boy’s spine. Finding my voice, at last, I begin my tale, digging it out one detail at a time.

“The night Sarah died I was watching her. You’ve heard that, and that part is true. But, I wasn’t sleeping when she went in the pool.”

Chase is still as can be. He’s allowing me to speak without interruption. His head stays bowed, his shoulders rising and falling with every breath.

My words are no longer bubbling at the surface, they’re boiling over.

“I was upstairs when I heard Sarah screaming. I was in my bedroom…but I wasn’t alone.” My boy’s breathing stutters, but I don’t stop. “I was with Doug Wilson. We weren’t having sex, but we were getting there. Not because I really wanted to, but because I feared saying no. He came over drunk that night, and even after I told him I was babysitting my sister and he should really go, he still forced his way in.”

I don’t detail how Doug pushed me aside in the doorway and told me laughingly to “get upstairs and spread ‘em.” If I share that tidbit with Chase, he will undoubtedly find Doug Wilson and f*ck him up thoroughly. And though a part of me would relish seeing my ex brought to his knees, I have enough on my conscience these days. Like how I didn’t stop Chase from hurting the junkie who hurt me. In fact, I encouraged it, counted on it. Chase’s sin belongs to me. I have no doubt the junkie had to be hospitalized, and I condoned it all. But I shake these thoughts off, for now, and skip to the next part of the story.

“Remember how I told you Doug used to use my fear of upsetting my mother against me?” I pause long enough for Chase to nod once. “Well, that night was no exception. Doug threatened to break up with me and tell my mom I was to blame if I didn’t just shut up and let him stay. That’s why I was afraid to kick him out. Not that I really could have anyway. But still…”

I take a breath, and stare at the profile of the angel’s bowed head. “Doug finished the can of beer he’d brought with him, then went into the kitchen and grabbed one of my dad’s beers out of the fridge. Sarah was on the sofa watching television, and I remember her looking at me like she was wondering why I was letting this rude kid do these things. Her expression steeled my resolve, at least briefly, and I actually had the courage to ask Doug to leave. I told him I’d been watching a movie with Sarah and we wanted to get back to it.” I pause, let out a harsh breath. This is still hard, but I go on, “I can hear Doug’s response, still. He laughed and said, ‘She can watch a movie without you, Kay, you’re not that important.’”

Chase stiffens and I am imminently grateful I left out the part where Doug called me a “dumb slut” and said I was good for one thing only.

“Anyway, I went upstairs to use the bathroom—and really just to get away from that * for a minute. I was hoping maybe I’d think of a way to get him out of the house, but when I started back down the stairs, Doug was coming up.”

I tell Chase how Doug blocked my way when I said we shouldn’t leave Sarah unattended, and then I tried to get past him. “But Doug backed me up the stairs and into my bedroom. He said a few minutes alone wouldn’t kill her.” I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “God, he used those exact words, Chase.”