Just Let Me Love You (Judge Me Not #3)(5)

“Try me,” I reply, raising a brow.

Shit, truth is, I’m now more curious than ever. What could have convinced Kay to take such a definitive measure?

I can’t imagine, but she just about floors me when she says, “I talked with my mother and she convinced me to buy the ticket and go with you to Nevada.”

“You’re kidding,” I reply dryly.

Yeah, I’m not the biggest fan of Kay’s mom. And why should I be? Mrs. Stanton abandoned Kay when the youngest in the family, Sarah, died in a tragic way. She blamed Kay for years for something I saw in, like, two seconds was an accident, after hearing the whole story. In any case, Kay’s mother has only recently made a return to her life. I suppose the woman is sincere, but I can’t help but feel wary.

“Yeah,” Kay replies, oblivious to my unspoken misgivings. “My mom said that sometimes men don’t realize how strong their women are. She said you, for example, might need a little reminding.”

Kay gives me a withering look, one that makes me laugh and pull her to me. “Oh, she said that, did she?” I kiss Kay’s cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. I know you’re strong.”

She leans away, her eyes meeting mine. “Do you, Chase? I mean, do you really think I’m strong?”

“I’m more certain of your strength than your mother is. I have no doubt about that.”

Kay frowns, and I add, “Hey, I know you’re strong because you ground me. You give me stability, Kay Stanton. You make me right. And trust me…that is no small feat.”

I don’t add that I have about a dozen reservations. Not about her, God no. And not about our relationship, either. My reservations are about one thing only—me.

Truth is I don’t know if I’m all that great for Kay. My insecurities and fears run so f*cking deep, all the way down to my tarnished, repentant soul. I spent years burying all my unresolved garbage with shit like drugs, fighting, f*cking anything that moved. Great guy, huh?

Four years in prison straightened me out in many ways, but I’ve been known to relapse from time to time. Safe to say, I am far from healed.

As if she senses what I might be thinking, Kay touches the side of my head, her fingers weaving in my hair. “Chase, what’s going on in there?” she asks.

The gate agent suddenly announces that our red-eye flight is boarding, putting an end to a potentially uncomfortable discussion. Thank God.

Standing, I offer my hand to Kay. “Let’s go, babe,” I say. “Let’s go save my brother.”





Kay



Las Vegas is hot. No, it’s scorching.

“August is obviously not a good month to come to the desert.” I press some buttons and lower all the windows in the sensible white sedan Chase and I have rented.

Hot air wafts in, and I mumble under my breath, “That’s not much better.”

“No,” Chase says. “August is far from the ideal time of the year to visit this place.”

We’re still in the rental lot, and Chase starts the car. The air-conditioner blows out a noisy stream of semi-cool air, and it slowly becomes more comfortable in time. Enough so that I’m able to close the windows by the time we’re leaving the airport.

Ten minutes later, it’s positively frosty in the car. “Brrr,” I say, shivering.

I turn down the air, and Chase laughs. “Too cold now?”

Wrapping my arms around myself, I say, “Yeah, a little.”

“We could turn off the air and open the windows. You’ll warm up again in no time.”

“No,” I reply. “I’m good.”

As Chase and I drive up the famous Las Vegas Strip, I soon forget all about being cold. There are too many distractions, too many things to see.

“Wow,” I murmur as I try to take in everything at once.

There’s a shiny, mirrored-glass pyramid, and next to that crazy structure is something that looks like a fairyland castle. A few minutes more and we are passing a hotel with dancing fountains, and then there’s a resort with a big pirate ship out in the front.

“I feel like I’m in some crazy wonderland,” I say to Chase.

I turn to him, all wide-eyed and excited, and he harrumphs. “I don’t know about the wonderland part, but this place is definitely crazy.”

My excitement is tempered as I remember that this place is nothing special to Chase. Glancing over at him, sneakily so he doesn’t notice, I try to assess how he’s holding up. He is gorgeous, as always, but he appears worried and exhausted, as well. Still, how this man can pull off beautiful and sexy with hardly any sleep the previous night is anyone’s guess. But the facts are the facts, and in a tight navy-blue T-shirt that accentuates his muscular arms and faded jeans—a rip at one knee—Chase accomplishes exactly that. He truly is male perfection.

How did I get so lucky? I muse.

Smiling, I place a hand on the knee with the rip. “Are you thinking about Will?” I gently ask.

“I am,” Chase replies.

“And…?” I prompt.

I know there’s more. Something is bothering him.

Glancing at the clock in the dash, Chase blows out a breath and says, “I think we’ve probably missed him at the bus station.”

Will’s bus was due in fifteen minutes ago, so Chase is surely right. Damn. I knew from the start we’d be cutting it close—racing against the clock—and, sadly, it looks like we lost this battle.