One Small Thing(70)

Jeff meets my eyes. He knows it was Chase and that I’m protecting him. I lift my chin. Chase needs someone on his side. Jeff’s got the whole school. Hell, he has the whole town. Chase has no one.

“We should go,” Jeff announces. “I just remembered I needed to do something for my dad.”

“But we just got here,” Scar protests. “I wanted to hang with Beth and pet the doggies.”

“Walk home, then, if you’re going to be rude about it.” With that, he turns on his heel.

Scar looks over at me in a panic. “It’s fine,” I say with a shrug. “Go.”

That’s all she needs to scamper after him. “I’m sorry, Jeff. I was just excited about the dogs.”

“You always have a choice, Scar. If you don’t want to be with me, say the word.”

She falls silent. I’m torn between wanting to protect Chase and wanting to run after Scarlett and ask her what the hell she’s doing with Jeff. Every time I see them, he’s running her down for not doing exactly what he wants.

Was he like this with Rachel? Or did he develop this bad attitude in England? He better not have treated Rachel like this.

I rush over, turn off the water and then hurry to the window to watch them leave. When Jeff’s Audi pulls out of the parking lot, I call out to Chase. “It’s safe to come out.”

His shoes thump on the floor. He joins me at the window, bracing an arm next to my head.

“I’m worried about Scarlett,” I tell him.

Chase offers a knowing look. “Because Jeff demands more obedience from her than we do from Rocco?”

“Something like that.”

He leans closer, peering out the window. “He’s a bully. There’re plenty like him in juvie, only without the clothes and fancy cars, but underneath he’s the same as them. All he wants to do is control people. He gets off on the power trips.”

“Do you think he was like that with Rachel?” I gnaw on my lip.

“I don’t know. It’s been three years. People can change a lot in three years. Look at me.” I twist my head to see his a scant few inches from mine. He gives me a self-deprecating smile. “I was a self-absorbed, immature asshole know-it-all who thought that stealing his coach’s car was the height of coolness. I wouldn’t do that now if you paid me a million dollars.”

“Jeff went to England, not prison,” I remind him.

“I know, but it could’ve felt like a prison.”

I flush. That was the same sentiment I thoughtlessly flung at Chase before.

“Hey.” His finger tips my chin upward. “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re nothing like Jeff.”

“You’re saying there’s hope for me?” I rub my jaw against his finger. My house did feel like a prison when I met Chase, and my response was to try to lose control. Jeff’s response is apparently to exercise control over everyone around him.

“Yeah. There’s hope.” His voice is husky.

Thoughts of Jeff fly out of my head. It’s hard to focus on anything but the boy in front of me when he’s so close. My gaze falls to his shirt, which is still wet. There are fresh wrinkles in the center, as if he’s pulled it off, wrung it out and shoved it back on. Near his collar is a tiny dry patch.

“I missed a part here.” I run my finger over the cotton, feeling his collarbone underneath.

His breath catches in his throat. I stroke my way along the bone, dropping into the shallow dip at the base of his throat. I wait for him to stop me, as he always does. But he remains still. My finger continues its exploration, following a downward path. On the surface, Chase is hard—all muscles, tough sinew and bone. But underneath, he has a tender heart. It aches for us. What he wants and what I want are at odds with what we should be wanting.

“You shouldn’t do this.” The words are raspy, as if he has a hard time forcing them out.

“Yes, I should.”





28

I’m tired of being patient. I’m tired of doing things other people think I should be doing. There’s nothing wrong with the concept of us.

I won’t let us be wrong.

I rise on my tiptoes and press my lips against his. He freezes, but then his lips soften. His hand on my chin draws me closer. He makes a sound, one that curls my toes. One that I want to capture on my phone and play on repeat every night until I fall asleep.

I lean into him, drawing from that well of strength that he’s built up inside. His arms close around me, and the kiss goes on and on and—

Bark! Bark! Bark!

A wet nose shoves between us. I look down to see Rocco aggressively pushing Chase and me apart. His stubby tail wags furiously.

Chase releases a half groan, half laugh and then bends down and gives the dog a firm scrub behind his ears. “You want a little love, too, Rocco?”

I use the time to collect myself. We probably shouldn’t be making out at work. Sandy might frown on that, and I don’t want to jeopardize the time Chase and I have here together. These moments are part of the small things that keep me going through the day.

I take a few deep breaths and push myself away from the wall.

Chase actively avoids looking in my direction for the rest of the shift, but I can’t keep my eyes off him. And I can’t stop touching my lips.