Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(22)

But then I tell him, “I think I’m going to decline the lunch invitation. But thanks for asking. I’ll just wait for Chase.”

“Oh”—Will smacks his hand to his forehead—“I almost forgot. I’m supposed to tell you Chase is skipping lunch today. He has a few more details to add to the mural.”

“Uh, okay,” I say, “thanks for letting me know.”

I place some papers into a file, straighten a few things on the desk, and then, just thinking out loud, add, “I should still probably stop over at the school and make sure Chase takes a break and eats something.”

Will nods, “Yeah, good plan.”

I can tell Will and Cassie want to get going, so I say, “You two go on ahead.”

Before they leave, Cassie asks if it’d be okay if she and Will just do their own thing for the rest of the afternoon. She mentions the ice cream shop with the miniature golf course that’s across from the church. “Do you mind if we hang out over there the rest of the day?”

Will chimes in, “Yeah, my part on the mural is pretty much done. Chase said he didn’t care if Cass and I hung out in town this afternoon. He did say I should ask you, though. You know…to make sure you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah, sure.” I shrug. “I don’t mind. Just be back in time for us to leave.”

“You got it,” Will replies, “we’ll be back by four or five.”

After Cassie and Will leave the rectory office, I head over to the school. If Chase is still set on not going out for lunch, I’ll just buy him some food from the vending machines in the teachers’ lounge.

After a walk across the sweltering parking lot—it’s a scorcher today—I step into the entrance area of the school. Chase is hard at work, across from the main doors, intently painting some detail onto the red schoolhouse in the mural.

He spins around, paintbrush in hand, when he hears my approach. “Hey, babe.”

His appearance is nothing short of stunning as he lowers the paintbrush to his side and wipes sweat from his brow with his other hand.

Sweaty Chase is übersexy Chase, and I take a minute to thoroughly enjoy the view. The man could truly star in one of those sweaty-gorgeous-guy-working-hard-on-a-hot-summer-day-and-needs-a-drink-of-water commercials.

That particular image prompts me to ask, “Are you thirsty?”

Chase chuckles, places the paintbrush sideways across a can of paint, and replies, “Maybe just a little.”

I turn in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. Pointing, I say in a rushed tone, “Let me go grab you a bottle of water. I’ll buy some chips and pretzels for you, too.”

With concern in his eyes—he knows something is amiss—he says, “You don’t have to buy me anything, Kay. Will was supposed to give you a message that I plan to work through lunch.”

“He did give me that message,” I tell Chase. “But I still wanted to stop over and see you. Plus, you have to eat, you know?” I force a smile.

“Okay,” he replies slowly, “but what about you? You sure you’re okay with just pretzels and chips for lunch?”

Now, when I smile, it’s for real. “Hey, that was good enough for the two of us before.”

It’s a clear reference to the lunch he and I shared following out first kiss, and he knows it.

Chase’s eyes meet mine. “That was a great lunch,” he agrees, “one of the best.”

I say, “Yeah,” and cast my eyes downward.

“Hey,” Chase says softly, “what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I raise my eyes to his. “Ugh.” I frown. “I talked to my mother today.”

Chase comes to me without hesitation. “What happened?” he asks, placing his hands on either side of my face.

Just his touch comforts me, so I close my eyes for a few seconds to savor the feeling of being so well cared for. I know Chase thinks my mother has upset me. And she has, but not in the way he’s probably thinking.

Chase worries my mother will disappoint me, like she’s done before. As a result, he doesn’t fully trust her. Not that I do either, not completely, but I have to say that today my mother gave me hope that she and I can move forward. She’s trying to make amends for choosing my ex-boyfriend, Doug Wilson, over me for so many years. In fact, she’s trying so hard that jerky Doug was the purpose of her call. Seems she wanted to give me a heads-up on what the * is planning.

His plan is what has me so upset. It’s also the news I now share with Chase.

“My mom was great,” I begin, “but it’s what she told me that has me feeling like I might puke.”

“What’d she tell you?” Chase asks with concern in his tone.

“Doug is coming to town tomorrow,” I blurt out in a rush of words. “He’ll be here for a week, maybe two.”

Chase tries to hide it, but I see his fists clenching when he lowers his hands down to his sides.

“Why’s that f*cker spending time in Harmony Creek?” he grinds out.

Chase hates my ex-boyfriend almost as much as I do. Doug was at my house, uninvited and unwilling to leave, the night my sister died. I’ve always placed partial blame at his feet—Sarah never would have been left alone if he hadn’t showed up that night. And she wouldn’t have been left unattended long enough for her to wander out to the backyard pool, where she drowned. But Doug had me trapped upstairs, keeping me from her and thus allowing my sister to end up in that damn pool.