Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(25)

“Will is waiting downstairs for you,” my mother reminds me. “He wants to know what you have planned for the two of you this afternoon.”

Translation: Mom wants to know.

“Yeah, okay. He’ll find out soon enough.” I reply, giving away no details of my plans with Will.

I actually do have a plan—I’m taking Will out on the motorcycle. I plan to head to the desert this afternoon, the more desolate parts. I’m going to do what my dad did for me, teach my brother how to drive the old Indian. It’s not completely legal since Will has no driver’s permit, but it’s how Dad taught me. Besides, I did a little research and found that Will can apply for a learner’s permit at fifteen and a half, which, for him, is just a couple months away.

And, to be honest, I’d rather teach Will than have someone like Greg try to do it.

Blood is thicker than water, and all that jazz.

Kay gets Mom moving, giving me a little good-bye wave when they are halfway out the door. I’m not having any of that crap, though. I stand and go to Kay, where I wrap my arms around her and kiss her good and properly.

When I involve tongue, Mom clears her throat. “Chase, really,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

Sometimes it is entirely too much fun to push Mom’s buttons. But since she looks so put-out with me, I decide to throw her a bone.

Draping my arm loosely around her shoulders, I squeeze lightly. “Have fun, Mom. And take good care of my girl.”

Abby is beside herself with the attention I’m lavishing on her. It’s not much, but I don’t often show her any real affection, since we’re usually too busy butting heads.

Kay smiles and mouths, “I’m proud of you” when Mom turns her back and starts to walk away.

“Better get going,” I reply softly.

After they’re out of sight, I return to the bedroom.

This trip is turning out better than expected. First, I sure as hell didn’t think I’d become Kay’s husband two days in. How crazy is that? This trip has been good in other ways, too. I feel like the visit to my father’s grave has given me some inner peace. Plus, Mom and I are finally reaching a better place, better than where we’ve been in years.

Will yells up the stairs, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Chase, dude, what’s taking you so long? Are we going or not?”

“Yeah,” I yell back. “I’ll be down in a sec.”

I start down the stairs, thinking how Will is my last hurdle. If I can keep him on track, I’ll count this trip to Nevada as a raging success.

And maybe then Kay and I can finally head back to Ohio and get started on the rest of our lives.





Kay



“Can I tell you something, Kay?” Chase’s mother’s voice is a mere whisper as she leans across the table, lending an air of seriousness to what has thus far been nothing but light lunchtime conversation. Dishes were cleared minutes ago by the waiter, and we’ve just started to work on dessert.

Well, I’m working on dessert. Abby is busy working on her third glass of wine.

“Sure,” I respond as I hack off a good-sized portion of the cheesecake in front of me.

Abby takes a long sip from her glass of wine, and then gestures for the waiter to bring her another.

“I didn’t want to say anything to Chase,” she begins as she sets down her glass. “But I really feel I must tell someone.”

“Okay,” I reply slowly, hoping Abby knows that whatever she tells me will be reported back to Chase.

Sighing and rubbing at an invisible wrinkle in the tablecloth, she says, “Greg was upset with Will before he left the other day. Very upset.”

“Oh.” I push my cheesecake away, my appetite dampened. “Why was he mad? What happened?”

My pulse is racing. There are so many possibilities. Did Greg find drugs in Will’s possession? Did Will once again steal from Greg’s liquor cabinet? Or maybe this is an issue involving Cassie.

But my biggest question is why has it taken Abby all week to bring this up? It’s Thursday and our third lunch date this week. There have been multiple opportunities for her to bring up this subject.

The waiter arrives, and Abby drains her new glass of wine in record time. She places it on the table then levels me with grim, green eyes. “Greg owns a few collector guns,” she says, “like Old West stuff.” She waves her hand around dismissively. “Anyway, that’s not important. What’s important is that one gun is missing, and Greg is convinced Will stole it.”

Oh, no. My heart is hammering in my chest.

“Why would Greg think such a thing?” I ask in a voice far calmer than I feel. “What would Will do with some old collector gun, anyway?”

“Probably sell it for drug money,” Abby states resignedly.

Oh, but I know better.

After Abby orders yet another glass of wine, she goes off on a tangent of how she plans to follow through on her promise to Chase.

“I need to get Will into counseling,” she says. “I’m going to work on that soon, too. I have some numbers already. I got them from a friend. I’ll make some calls later.” Blah, blah, blah.

I nod, but really I am hearing nothing. Running through my head, drowning out Abby, are my own thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around the fact I know Greg is absolutely correct—Will stole the collector gun. And that gun is the one Will gave to Chase, pretending all along that it was the firearm he bought from Kyle.