Chasing Spring(39)

I hadn’t talked to Trent since I’d seen him outside my mom’s apartment complex.

“I was just watering my garden,” I said, trying to navigate the awkward situation. “Did you need something or…do you want to come in?”

He tucked his arms across his chest. “You don’t have to invite me in or anything. I should have asked before coming over.”

I recognized desperation in Trent’s eyes. I knew what it was like to not want to go home. I didn’t know his story, but if he needed a place to hang out for the afternoon, I wasn’t going to kick him out.

“C’mon, I need a snack anyway.”

He smiled as I propped the screen door open for him.

“I don't think I've ever been inside your house,” he admitted, turning in a circle and taking in the kitchen. There were two pictures hanging on the wall, both equally ancient. My family—including my mom—smiled up at the camera in one photo, and directly next to it there was a photo of the Matthews family with a baby-faced Chase.

“What's with the photo of Chase Matthews in your kitchen? Are you guys related?” he asked, tapping his finger on the glass.

I didn’t look at the photo. “Our moms were best friends growing up, so our families were really close.”

He studied the photo for another moment before shrugging. I told him to take a seat at the table as I rooted through our pantry. It’d been a week or two since anyone had gone to the grocery store, but there were still some chips left. I tossed the bag onto the table and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.

Trent watched me take a bite of apple and then he tore into the bag of chips.

“Are you the only one home?” he asked.

The house was eerily quiet with Chase and my dad gone. Normally I could count on my dad’s game footage humming through the house.

“Yeah, not sure where the guys are.” I purposely skipped over saying Chase's name because I knew Trent was itching to talk about him.

“I still don't get why he's living here,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. Trent and I weren’t dating—in fact we were hardly even friends—and yet he still felt like he had some sort of claim over me.

Before I could cut off all further discussion of him, the front door creaked open and sunlight streamed in with Chase. His backpack hit the floor near the door and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying he’d skip the kitchen and head straight upstairs.

“Lilah?”

I opened my eyes and glanced over to look at him. His jaw tightened as he registered Trent’s presence, but he didn't say a word as he stepped into the kitchen.

“No soccer practice today?” Trent asked with a bitter edge to his words.

Chase opened the refrigerator and bent down to inspect its contents. “Baseball, and it just finished.”

Trent grunted and I scooted my chair back, preparing for the inevitable showdown.

“I think it’s probably time for you to go,” I said, offering Trent a weak smile.

He laughed and scraped his chair away from the table.

“Sorry,” I added lamely.

He shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I get it. The golden boy is home so you’re done with me for now.”

…

Chase




“Is there something you want to say to me, Trent?” I called across the room.

Lilah and Trent twisted around to stare at me and I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. Trent was leaving. That’s what I wanted.

Trent narrowed his eyes on me, but Lilah was quicker. She reached behind him and opened the front door to usher him out before I could dig myself in any deeper.

“Who the f*ck does he think he is?” Trent asked as Lilah pushed him through the door.

“Just leave it. It’s not worth it,” she said, pushing harder against his chest. “I’ll see you around school or something.”

Once he was clear of the door, she slammed it closed and spun around to stare at me.

“Was that necessary? Don’t start acting like you own the place. He needed a place to hang out for a few hours—you of all people should understand that.”

We were standing across the living room from each other. My eyes were on her, but her gaze was on the front door. Her fists were clenched and her jaw ticked back and forth. I wasn't afraid of her anger; I was afraid of her silence. I didn't want her to shrivel back into her shell and pretend like we didn't have two years of pent up anger we needed to hash out.

For two seconds I thought she was going to fight with me, to yell at me about what was really bothering her, and then she shook her head and made for the stairs.

I moved quicker and blocked her path.

“Let me by,” she insisted.

“No.”

She couldn't get around me with my arms crossed and when she tried, I moved to block her path. I'd waited two years to talk to her about our past and I was sick of skating around it. I always swept it under the rug, too scared to ruin her mood, but she was already pissed, so it was now or never.

She shifted her weight onto her right leg, crossed her arms, and stared at the wall behind my head.

So goddamn stubborn.

“Yell at me. Talk to me,” I said with a gentle tone, trying to coax her into being honest. “You’re not mad about Trent. I know you’re not mad about that.”