One Small Thing(65)

A big warm hand covers mine, and then I hear a muffled curse. Chase slides an arm under my head and pushes my face against his sweatshirt-clad chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs over and over.

I want to stop crying, because I know it’s painful for him, but I can’t control the tears. Memories that I’ve pushed down deep bubble to the surface. Rachel showing me how to shave my legs. Rachel French-braiding my hair. Rachel giving me one of her favorite Tshirts when I tried out for the A team at the club. Rachel holding me just like this when my name was not on the final roster.

“I miss her,” I sob, curling into Chase’s arms. “I miss her so much.”

Under the tree with the shadow of Rachel’s legs flying overhead, I let the buried hurt spring out of its hidden place. The pain stretches its tendrils, traveling through my veins until every part of my body aches and shudders under its burden.

This is why I held it in for so long—because it’s too much to deal with. Snot bubbles in my nose. Tears stream out of my eyes like a raging river. Hoarse, ugly sounds growl up through my throat.

When Rachel died, I was scared that tomorrow my life might be snuffed out, too, so I fought my parents. I fought every boundary, every restriction as if it were a noose.

“She was my big sister,” I whisper against Chase’s neck. “She was supposed to protect me forever.”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He buries his head next to mine.

One hand cups my head to his chest, muffling my sobs while the other moves in wide swaths up and down my back. I lean into him, borrow his strength, because now that the seal is off, I can’t stuff any of this back inside the bottle.

I keep crying. I’m not sure how much time even passes. But he doesn’t ever tell me to hush. He doesn’t pull away. The rhythm of his comforting hand never skips a beat. Underneath my ear, I make out the steady beat of his heart.

He’s alive. I’m alive.

Rachel’s gone.

And I have to let my broken heart heal instead of pretending I’ve been fine.

“Shhh,” Chase whispers in my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Warm breath hits the outer shell of my earlobe, travels down my spine, spreads like a virus, fast and heated throughout my body. I raise my face and see wetness in his eyes.

I’m not the only one in need of comfort. I unfurl my fingers from his sweatshirt and run my thumb across his damp cheek. My fingertips skate along the sharp jaw to land around his neck.

A little pressure, only the tiniest bit of force, dips his face toward mine.

“Chase,” I breathe.

His eyelids flutter shut. So do mine. And I wait. And wait. And wait.

The next thing I know, I’m on my back and Chase is five feet from me, dragging an agitated hand through his hair.

“Chase?”

“I need to go,” he says. He shoves his hands into his pockets. His shoulders cave in as he withdraws from me.

“But...” I’m lost. He was going to kiss me. I know he was.

“I can’t.” He looks toward the house as he says this. “I can’t.”

He can’t what? Kiss me? Hold me any longer? “What? You can’t what?”

“All of it,” he says quietly, this time shifting his gaze to the ground.

I sit up on my knees and extend a hand. “Come back. Talk to me. Please.”

His eyes finally meet mine and I’m nearly knocked backward by the anguish in them. “Your sister never left you, Beth. I took her from you. I don’t deserve to be holding you, let alone standing in this yard. Your dad is right. I need to be kept away.”

“No. Please.” I shake my head. I can’t form coherent sentences right now. I’ve got no rational thoughts at this point. I’m just emotion and feeling.

“I need to go. I’m sorry, Beth. For everything.” He turns on his heel and slips into the shadows.

Stunned, I remain paralyzed on the ground. The chilly earth turning my leggings damp and cold. His goodbye sounded so final, as if he’s never going to meet me again, never even going to acknowledge the connection we have. And we have one, dammit.

I jump to my feet and race after him. “Chase. Chase,” I yell, uncaring that I’m waking the neighborhood. I trample over a leaf pile on the Rennicks’ lawn and then nearly run into the corner of the Palmers’ shed.

“Holy crap, Beth, you’re making more noise than Godzilla in a forest.” Chase appears in front of me, shaking his head in irritation.

“Then stop running away,” I snap.

“You’re mad?” He sounds astonished. The stupid boy.

“Yeah, I’m mad. I just poured my heart out to you and in response, you run away.”

He sighs. “I’m not running away. I just don’t belong with you.”

“Says who?” I push his chest. “And don’t say my parents, because they don’t count.”

“How can they not count?”

“No one counts, Chase. No one but you and me. If you tell me you don’t care about me, I’ll cry but I’ll get over it. That’s your choice. But if you’re pushing me away because guilt is your current girlfriend and you don’t want to leave her, then that’s bullshit. If you feel so wrong about being let out of prison, go back there. Violate your probation and get sent back in.”