Stealing Harper (Taking Chances #1.5)(41)

All too soon, she reached into her purse and grabbed the keys to Brandon’s Jeep, so she could go pick him up from the airport.

When she grabbed for the door handle, I said, quietly, “Harper, I will love you for the rest of my life.”

She sucked in a quick breath but didn’t turn to look at me, and before she hopped out of my truck and away from me, she whispered softly, “You will always be in my heart, Chase Grayson.”

I felt like I was dying as I watched her start up his Jeep and leave me sitting there. I tried to tell myself that we would figure this out, and she would come back to me. But as I turned my truck back on and headed toward the beach, I found it harder and harder to convince myself that she would be mine; and after an hour on the beach, I ended up talking myself into begging her to choose me instead.

Brandon’s Jeep was outside my house by the time I’d come back, as was most everyone’s, and after hearing Princess’s voice coming from the kitchen, I headed toward her and the smell of Chinese food, fully intent on pulling her to my room and showing her why she should be with me instead. I rounded the corner into the living room and saw Brandon and Harper, Harper in nothing but one of his shirts, laughing and flirting with Brandon.

My footsteps faltered, but I couldn’t make myself stop anymore; it hadn’t even been three hours since I’d been making love to her up against my shower wall, and she was wearing nothing but his shirt? Harper’s laugh instantly cut off when she saw me, and I watched as her jaw dropped, and her eyes got wide. They flashed quickly to Brandon, then back to me, and that was all I needed to know. Apparently, she hadn’t needed a few weeks, just a few hours. Brandon nodded at me, and with a hard nod back, I forced myself to my room and away from them so I could grab my board, sketchpads, and as much of my other shit as possible, so I could avoid seeing them like that again.

So I could avoid seeing them—period.





Chapter Nine



“CHASE, HONEY?”

I closed my sketchbook and sighed. “Yeah, Mom?” I swear if she brought up—

“Sweetheart, we really should talk about whatever is going on.”

Yep . . . she was bringing it up again.

“You’re not even mostly living out of our house, you’re living here. Granted we don’t see you much since usually you’re surfing when we get up, then at the shop at night, but I’m not that dumb. You’re living here.”

“You’re not dumb at all, Mom.”

She set two mugs of coffee down on the table and sat next to me. “I was hoping you’d say that!” She laughed and pushed on my shoulder, but her laugh died when I continued to sit there with my arms crossed over my chest, “Okay, well since I seem to be awesome enough to be graced with your presence today”—I snorted when she rolled her eyes—“I’m gonna make you sit here and talk to me.”

“You’re gonna make me,” I deadpanned, and raised an eyebrow at her.

“Don’t push me, Chase Austin Grayson. In all seriousness, your father and I are so worried about you. I was less worried when you were at your own home, but with you here and seeing how you’re pushing yourself—”

“Shouldn’t you be the one telling me that I need to push myself?”

“Not the way you have been! With the exception of three days, including today, over the last few weeks, you get up at dawn to go surfing, come home only to shower and change, then go to classes. Then you go straight to the shop, and you’re home after your dad and I are already asleep! And throughout all of this, you’ve just . . . lost you. The few times I have seen you, you look dead. You disappear completely on family days; Bree said she hasn’t even seen you in weeks and that Brad, Brandon, and the rest of the guys are really getting worried about you because you don’t talk to them or surf with them anymore . . . ? Chase, what is happening with you?”

I made a mental note to tell Bree to shut the hell up. “Mom, I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ve just been busy.”

“I call bullshit,” Dad said as he joined the conversation, looking like he was about to leave for work.

“Morning to you, too, Dad.”

“And you can drop the attitude, too. She said we’re worried about you, and we are. You’re an adult, you have your own house; so trust me when I say I have no problem telling you that I love you, but if you don’t tell us what’s going on and start respecting us, you can move right back out and into your house.”

Is he serious? I just sat there staring at both of them for a few minutes before deciding that he was and sighing heavily. “I’ve been thinking about moving.”

“Okay?” Dad drew out the word. Obviously, he wasn’t getting it.

“No, I mean moving moving. Like, moving away from San Diego.”

Mom gasped. “What?”

“After graduation.”

“Why?” Mom’s eyes were filling with tears, and Dad’s eyebrows were scrunched together.

“It’s just something I need to do.” I shrugged. “Something I want to do.”

“Why would you need to move away?” She started to cry, and I unfolded my arms, reached across, and grabbed her hand.

“Mom, it’s fine. It won’t be forever. I ju—” I broke off quickly and sat back.