Never Doubt Me: Judge Me Not #2(37)

He looks like he might just piss his fancy khaki pants, so I hold up my hands in a placating kind of way. “I don’t want any trouble, either. I just want to talk to you, man,” I try to assure him.

Guess Doug doesn’t believe me. The pizza box drops to the ground, and he attempts to flee. But he only makes it a few feet before I have him pinned up against his car door.

His shifty eyes dart from side to side, and, in response, I say in a low voice, “There’s no one around to help you, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”

Standing this close to the guy whose actions led to Kay’s little sister’s death, I feel like exploding. It takes everything I have not to lay him the f*ck out. But I promised Nick. And more important, I promised myself. I am not the same man I once was. I’m trying to change. And aside from the episode with the junkie who jumped Kay, I’ve cleaned up my act. No more f*cking people up, no more taking a chance on getting caught and going back to prison, especially for something stupid like assault.

Considering all this, I loosen my hold on Kay’s ex.

“What’s this all about?” Doug squeaks out. “I got no problems with you.”

I chuckle. “That’s not exactly true.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he protests, sweat beading on his brow.

“Well, let me enlighten you. I heard about your little plan to contact Kay.”

Doug blanches. “Oh…um…uh…”

I laugh. “Yeah, that’s right. I know what you intend to do…and it’s not happening. Kay doesn’t need you searching her out, dredging up shit that happened four years ago, and throwing around a bunch of empty apologies.”

This man who used to get off on upsetting the woman I love starts to shake. “Okay, I won’t do it,” he says. “I promise I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’ll stay away from her.”

With my hand fisted in his pressed polo shirt, I yank him to me and then shove him back, hard, against the car. I want so badly to break his f*cking face, but I settle for just holding him in place.

“You better f*cking stay away,” I growl. “Or next time, we’ll be doing more than just talking. Got it?”

I let go and step back. Doug nods and nods, like some preppy bobblehead doll. “Yeah, I got it,” he states in a quivering tone. “I won’t go near her—ever.”

“I think I might just believe you, you preppy motherf*cker.”

Doug ignores my insult. He’s too busy straightening the clothes I’ve wrinkled.

I take him in. And then I glance down at myself, my paint-stained jeans, my faded black T-shirt, the ink exposed where the short sleeves end.

When I shake my head and make a scoffing sound, Doug says, “What? I said I’d stay away.”

“Just get the f*ck out of my face,” I mumble. I’m already tired of dealing with this douche.

Doug fumbles with his keys, but I notice he never makes a move to pick up the pizza box from the ground. He just gets in his car and takes off.

Rich, littering motherf*cker.

I walk over to the dropped pizza box, pick it up, and toss it in a Dumpster.

Then I get in my truck.

But I don’t leave right away.

I know, despite all my faults, I am a better person than Doug Wilson. I’d never hurt Kay the way he did. But seeing him dressed like some upper-middle-class dude that has made something of his life leaves me feeling unworthy of my girl. Kay deserves so much more than what I’ll ever be able to give her. And based on the things I’m still compelled to do, like intimidate the f*ck out of her ex-boyfriend, I am apt to say Kay is too good for me. She is kind and purehearted. Me? I’m a different story. I remain what I’ve always been—f*cked up. I’ll forever be damaged—a former druggie and an ex-con. For as much as I try to fool myself that I’ve become someone different, and I have in some ways, there’s a part of me that will always be the kind of man who settles things with his fists, the kind of man who’s not above using his strength and power to intimidate.

I sit in the truck for a while, riding out all these unsettling feelings until I feel closer to right than wrong. When I finally turn the key in the ignition, ready to go home, I power my cell back on.

And that’s when I discover I have six frantic messages from Kay.

Fucking hell.

Kay’s increasingly panicked messages get me up to speed on all I’ve missed, which is a hell of a lot, including Cassie’s urgent call to Kay about her stepdad tailing her, then her call to Will relating the same information, and finally, Will’s (not surprising) subsequent meltdown.

I call Kay on the ride home, and understandably, she’s a wreck.

“Will’s gone,” she sobs. “Chase, I have no idea where he went. I tried to talk him out of leaving, but he took off with Jared.” She pauses, sniffles, and tentatively asks, “Where were you, anyway? I thought you were coming home early.”

“Uh, something came up.”

“Like what?”

“Just something,” I hedge.

Slowly, Kay asks, “Is everything all right, Chase?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine—now.” I sigh. “I’ll be home soon, babe. I’m on my way. Maybe my brother will change his mind and come back. Then we can get this clusterf*ck straightened out sooner rather than later.”