Rich Blood (Jason Rich #1)(68)

When it was over, the moment gone, a few droplets of blood on the towel and the flower dislodged from Chase’s hair, Jason had felt like everyone in the world was watching them. He’d wondered whether that was how Adam had felt after eating the forbidden fruit. He was so self-conscious, and Chase’s face had beamed red. They’d barely said a word to each other on the boat ride home, and she’d softly cried. Nothing had been the same after that. They’d still fished some off the dock that summer, but they’d never kissed again.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Chase asked. “You drifted away.”

Jason wanted to tell her what he was thinking but, at the last second, changed course. Too soon, he thought. “When’s the last time you had meth?” he asked.

“Haven’t touched it since going to rehab,” Chase said.

“And alcohol?”

She frowned and looked up at the sky. “The night after you came back, I took down a half a fifth of Wild Turkey so . . . what was that? Almost two months ago?”

“What was the trigger?” Jason asked, thinking he had a pretty good idea.

“You,” she said.

He swallowed, not knowing what to say. For several seconds, they looked at each other, and then Jason broke eye contact, gazing out at the lake instead. “Well, I’m sorry,” he managed.

“What triggered you last night?” she asked.

“I was overwhelmed by everything. The case. Tyson Cade. And . . . I think Jana’s lying to me about what really happened.”

“And that surprises you?” Chase asked, her tone incredulous. “She’s so manipulative, J. R. Has been her whole life.”

“I know,” he said. “Sometimes I forget.”

Even now, he thought. In a jail cell accused of murder, she was kicking Jason out of their meeting for accusing her of lying. She was lashing out at her girls instead of enjoying the few minutes they spent with her during visitation. Nola had told him that she’d had to leave their last session because Jana told her it was her fault that she was in jail, that she was disloyal to her own mother.

Chase’s hand touched his, and he looked up just as the waiter brought their plates over. He pulled back from her, and she looked away, the moment over.

They spent the next thirty minutes eating and talking about the various stories they’d heard at the AA meeting. When the waiter brought the check, Jason snatched it before Chase could.

“Please let me get this,” he said. “I owe you one for waking me up this morning.”

“Whatever. Just don’t let it happen again.”

After he paid, they walked down the slope to the dock and reboarded the Sea-Doo. “Mind if I drive home?” he asked.

“Nope,” Chase said. Once they were both on, he felt her arms close around him, and he breathed in her fruity perfume and, again, the faintest hint of sweat.

“Thank you,” he said. “I . . . can’t tell you how much I enjoyed that.”

She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Now let’s go. We’re losing daylight.”

He wrapped the key lanyard around his wrist and pushed the red button to fire up the Sea-Doo. Then he pressed down on the throttle, and the front of the Sea-Doo raised up out of the water as the craft took off.

At this time of night, the dark water was like a sheet of glass, and Jason hit fifty miles per hour in a matter of seconds. Looking ahead at the orange sun ducking down behind the clouds, he took in a gust of fresh air and was grateful for the break from his sister’s case.

And the company.



As they neared the bridge, Jason saw an eighteen-wheeler passing from above. The rig’s headlights illuminated the words that had been spray-painted on the side of the overpass. Mill Creek.

Jason reached a hand up and touched the graffiti just as he had done when he was a kid. After navigating through the narrow opening, he took the Sea-Doo for one victory lap around the cove and then pulled it into the slip on the side of Chase’s boathouse.

“Like riding a bike,” she whispered, squeezing his ribs before she climbed off the machine and onto the dock. She cranked the hoist, and the watercraft began to rise out of the water. A few minutes later, she was turning off the lights and locking up. As they walked up the dock together, Jason clasped her hand. She didn’t pull away.

“Well.” He looked up toward his house, where he could see Nola sitting on the island talking with one of the security guys. “I—”

Before he could say anything further, he felt her lips pressed into his. The kiss was rough. Aggressive. Wonderful.

And painfully brief. As he wrapped his arms around her, she pushed away from him.

“Let’s take things slow, OK?” she said, sounding unsure of herself, a rarity. “We both have triggers, you know.”

Jason felt an ache in his heart as he watched her walk away. “Chase?”

“I’m fine,” she said without turning around.

“Can we do that again?”

She laughed. “If you’re lucky.”

Jason walked through the door to the ground level of the house and up the stairs. He knew he should be exhausted, but he was full of energy. Wired.

When he reached the top of the stairs, his sense of peace evaporated the second he saw Nola’s face. She was crying and holding her phone.