I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (29 page)

What I really want right now is to tell Will how much I still love him, and how fucking sorry I am for ever having let him down. There are a hundred more still-unsaid things I wish I could blurt out, but it’s too soon to start up with shit like that. I don’t want my brother to freak and shut me out again, so I just take a deep breath and say, “I think zombies are a great idea, Will.”

We talk a few more minutes, then my brother says he has to go, his ride is due to pick him up. “I don’t want to keep her waiting,” he tells me, “so I’ll just talk to you—”

“Whoa, hold up,” I cut in. “Her?” I can’t help but slip into older-brother-teasing mode. Plus, I am curious. “And this girl drives? Are we dating an older woman, little bro? Have to say, kid, I am impressed.”

Will laughs, and says all sheepishly, “She’s only a year older, Chase. In fact, she just got her license a couple of weeks ago.” He pauses, then adds excitedly, “Oh, yeah, and get this, her mom already bought her a car, a pretty sweet one too.”

I don’t really care about the car, but I do ask, “Does
she
have a name?”

“Yeah, her name is Cassie.” Will is silent for a beat.

When he does speak again, it’s in this softer tone, and I sense right away this Cassie-girl is important to my brother. “I like hanging out with her, Chase. She’s…I don’t know…I guess she’s just different from most girls my age.” He sighs. “Her life’s not all that great, either. I mean, her mom has an important job and makes lots of money, but she’s gone a lot for work. She got remarried a few months ago, so Cassie’s got a stepdad now. He’s home a lot, but he’s a real piece of shit.” Will’s tone sounds angry, but then turns bereft when he adds, “Cassie lost her real dad a few years ago. Just like us, Chase.”

There’s a lump in my throat, hearing the pain in my brother’s voice. He’s growing up and needs a father, now more than ever. There’s no one out there in Vegas to guide this kid. My mom is too wrapped up in her own shit—as usual. And Greg is okay and all, but Will is not his son. I know for a fact he hasn’t made a single move to officially adopt my brother.

I think about the dream I had weeks ago, the one where my dad told me to take care of Will. But how can I take care of him when he’s thousands of miles away? My life is here, and his is there.
Fuck.

“Sounds like you’re good for each other,” I say, at last, to Will. “Maybe someday I’ll get to meet this girl of yours. I’d really like that.”

Will replies, “Yeah, I’d like that too. Cassie…she…I don’t know, she reminds me of us. Except it’s harder for her, I guess, being a girl and all. Mom had boyfriends but it’s not like we ever had to deal with…” He trails off.

I sense my brother might be about to tell me something more, but just then I hear a horn beeping in the background on his end. He tells me Cassie is there and he has to go. I say good-bye and we disconnect.

While I wait for Kay to return, I push the swing back and forth with my foot. I think about how my life is changing, how so many things are coming together. I’m with Kay now, and we’re so fucking in love it’s crazy. Work at the church is going well, and I am finally making strides with my brother. We’re slowly rebuilding something I so recklessly destroyed.

The swing creaks beneath me as it sways.

In some ways, it’s almost like things are going
too
smoothly. This isn’t the way my life generally progresses. I am not one of those lucky people whose dreams all come true and everything turns out fucking peachy.

But shit is good
, I tell myself.
You can’t deny that.

It’s true; shit is good, so fucking good. But damn if I can’t shake the feeling that it’s all about to hit the fan.

Chapter Fourteen

Kay

The week starts out great. Chase and I talk with Father Maridale early Monday morning in his office, though we give him the abridged version of what happened to me in my apartment parking lot Friday night. It’s still enough detail to give context to why I’m now renting Chase’s apartment.

To my surprise—and relief—Father takes the news rather well. Chase makes it obvious we’re involved, he holds my hand reassuringly the whole time we talk. But instead of being angry, Father Maridale just smiles resignedly. “Just make each other happy,” he tells us.

I always suspected the priest who leads our congregation is more hip and cool than he lets on, especially for a clergyman, and this absolutely proves it. “I expect you to be good to each other,” he adds before we leave. “You’ve both known pain, but now you have a chance to see there can be joy in life as well.”

I don’t say anything, since we’re halfway out the door (and need to get back to work), but if I get another chance I plan to tell Father that Chase Gartner is very good to me, too good perhaps. There’s still this part of me that doesn’t feel as if I deserve all the love Chase showers on me. Maybe I’ll feel more deserving once he knows my dark secret. I keep trying to tell him, I do, but I physically can’t. He has no idea how close I almost came to blurting it out yesterday when we first arrived at the creek to fish. But as I opened my mouth, ready to pour forth the truth, I literally could
not
do it. It was like the words were stuck, stuck in my throat, stuck in my past, anchoring me to silence.

Chase was turned away, messing with the lines, but I did get out one unintelligible word. When he turned back to me with one eyebrow raised, I couldn’t say anything more. I couldn’t tell him face-to-face like that why I blame myself for what happened to Sarah, so I waved it off and pretended I was clearing my throat.

I have to figure something out, though, some way to share what I have buried in the deep recesses of my soul. Keeping my secret is wearing me down, making me feel as if Chase’s love could eventually slip away. This love we’ve created demands honesty, secrets will only hasten its demise.

Burdened with these thoughts, I find the workday tending to drag after our meeting with Father Maridale. Everyone else is bustling about, getting ready for the Fourth of July carnival to start while I’m stuck in the office. Chase is busy, outside on the grounds, helping the temporary workers who’ve been brought in to set up all the rides and stands.

But I am far from forgotten when it comes to my boy. Chase texts me randomly throughout the day, keeping me amused, and bringing a silly grin to my face every time I hear a new alert.

His first text reads:
Thinking about when you (literally) ran into me in the parking lot…

Oh, what about it?
I text back.

I should have grabbed you up in my arms that day, baby girl.

I reply,
You kind of did
.

Yeah, but I didn’t take a chance and kiss you. And I so should have.

Those words make me sigh, and smile, and sigh again.

Ten minutes later…

Remember the day I fixed your ponytail? Put that tie-thing back in your hair?

Before I can even respond there’s this:
I wanted to kiss you so fucking much, Kay. And when you hiked up your dress, shit, I wanted to go to you and hike it even higher.

I blush, I love his words. I send a wink back to him.

Remember the first night you came over?
Chase continues twenty minutes later.

Yes
.

I should have kissed you then, girl.

You should have, boy.

I’ll make up for it tonight
,
I promise.
I’m not stopping until I’ve kissed you everywhere.

I fumble the phone in my hands, squirm in my chair. My boy is best when he’s sexy and playful like this.

I have to bake tonight, you know
, I remind him.

Oh, cookie dough, huh? You’re giving me ideas…

And just then damn Missy rushes into the office and I hurriedly hide my phone.

“I’m just here for a minute,” she says in a whirlwind, waving her hand. “No need to stop what you’re doing. You’re still making cookies for the sale, yeah?” I nod. “Good, I’ll need them by tomorrow morning.”

“No problem, I figured as much. I’m baking tonight.”

“Perfect!” Missy smiles, turns, and is soon halfway to the door. “We’ll talk later, Kay,” she calls out over her shoulder. “Busy, busy, you know.” And just as quickly as she came in, she is gone.

The fact that the only topic discussed was cookies lets me know Missy has not yet been enlightened to my change in living accommodations. Just as well, I am not in the mood for her disapproving looks and disparaging comments regarding Chase. He claims he’s never slept with her, but there’s something nagging me regarding this whole odd situation. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to think about it for long, a bunch of business calls start to come in and it’s back to work until five o’clock.

That evening, while I’m mixing and stirring in the kitchenette of my new apartment, Chase stops by to check on my progress. And to test out some freshly baked snickerdoodle cookies, of course. I remembered to invite him over via text before the end of the workday.

After my handsome boyfriend gives me a peck on my flour-streaked cheek, I tell him how much I love the oven he never got around to using. He watches as I transfer a tray of cookies from the oven to a cooling rack atop the breakfast bar. Chase sits down on one of the stools on the other side of the counter. He says he’s glad someone is finally using all these never-before-used appliances and bakeware, and then he reaches for one of the still-hot cookies.

I playfully swat his hand away. “Not those, they’re too hot to eat.”

I hand him one of the cooled-down cookies from a different rack. “Here, try this one.”

He bites into the cookie and immediately slows his chewing. “Mmm,” he mumbles. “Damn, these are good.” He steals another. “Like, exceptionally good.”

“Thank you,” I say, beaming with pride that my boy likes my baking.

While I open the oven and put in another batch, I ask Chase, “So, what’s your favorite kind of cookie? I’ll make them for you sometime.”

Chase pilfers another snickerdoodle, holds it aloft, and ponders. “Well, I’ve always liked chocolate-chip, but I’m thinking these may be my new favorite.” He finishes his newly christened “favorite” cookie in two bites.

I laugh. “I’m glad you like those, but I’ll still make you some chocolate chip cookies sometime soon.”

“You’re too good to me, sweet girl,” he tells me as he steals two more snickerdoodles.

“Well, you’re even sweeter to me, so I guess we’re even,” I retort.

Before he can reply, and get us into a debate as to who is sweeter to whom, I stuff another cookie in his mouth.

We laugh and the fun continues. Chase stays late and helps me finish my baking project. Well, he helps some. What he mostly does is devour cookies, making me thankful I baked plenty extra. By the time we’re finished it’s really late. We’re too exhausted to start anything physical, so we put the cookie dough-sexy times on hold. But Chase stays the night, holding me close, in an apartment filled with the aroma of freshly baked cookies.

To me, it smells like home.

The next night Chase and I are on our way to the carnival. My boy is driving, and I’m in the passenger seat. Tonight is the first night of festivities down at the church, and I suspect if it’s going to be anything like last year’s opening the grounds will be packed. A thought regarding the cookies I dropped off this morning passes through my mind. Missy told me to stop by the bake sale stand this evening so she can update me on the early sales of my snickerdoodles.

As Chase rounds a curve in the road, I glance over. “Do you mind if we stop by the bake sale stand at some point? I’d like to see how my cookies are selling.”

“Okay,” he answers slowly, frowning.

It’s clear Chase is not too thrilled with the idea. But what would it matter to him? Something is off.

“Is there some reason why you don’t want to stop by that particular stand?” I cautiously venture.

Chase places his hand on my jean-clad leg and gives me a sidelong glance. “No, it’s not that, baby. I was just thinking about something else, something to do with work.”

Hmm, sure
, I think. But I let it slide, for now.

The carnival is hopping. The church grounds, bathed in bright and colorful lights, appear as they do no other time of the year, except for Christmas. Amusement rides spin and twirl, as the aromas of fried corn dogs and freshly-spun cotton candy permeate the thick, summer air. One of the many game stands lights up and bells go off as someone wins a huge stuffed toy.

Chase and I walk around, hand-in-hand, enjoying it all. We receive a few disapproving stares, but there are a couple of smiles as well. That’s good enough for now. This town will just have to get used to the fact that its good girl is in love with its resident bad boy. I glance up at the gorgeous man by my side. Gunmetal blues, pouty full lips, a body he sure knows how to use. Jeez, could I get any luckier? I squeeze his hand.

“What?” he asks as he catches my gaze.

“Nothing, I just love you, that’s all.”

He leans down and kisses my cheek, murmurs sweet things in my ear. I melt as I always do. Chase Gartner has conquered me thoroughly. I’d just about die for this man.

When he straightens, he says, “Hey, did I ever tell you about the time my parents took me to a carnival like this. And my dad bought me a red balloon I was convinced was magical?”

I don’t think I’ve heard this story, so I reply, “No, you never told me that one.”

As we walk past the fishing pond game and a stand selling kettle corn, my boy tells me his story.

“I was probably about four or five. We still lived here, I remember that. And Will hadn’t been born yet. Anyway, there was a stand selling balloons, kind of like that one up ahead.” He points to a stand where big balloons of every color imaginable are affixed to the sides and the front. A few of the largest balloons flutter in the light breeze.

“Just like that stand, this one had tons of balloons, in lots of colors. But there was only one red one.” Chase shakes his head and chuckles a little. “For some crazy reason, I was convinced the red one—since it was the only one, I guess—was special. I thought it was filled with magic, instead of just air, so, I begged my dad to buy it for me.”

We slow by a spinning ride. Orange, pink, and yellow lights flash around us as I ask, “Did he get it for you?”

Chase nods, but it’s a slow nod, like my boy is far away now, back in time, lost in this memory. “Yeah, yeah, he did,” he murmurs.

I bump his arm with my shoulder. “So…was it?”

“Was it what?”

“A balloon filled with magic,” I tease.

We walk a little farther, past the stand selling balloons. Chase glances at the red ones, but we keep moving.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “I never found out. I let it go and it drifted up into the sky.”

I am about to tease him about losing his balloon, but then I notice the expression on his face. He looks sad and forlorn. “What? What’s wrong, Chase?”

He shakes his head, raises my hand to his lips and places the softest of kisses on my fingers. “Nothing, sweet Kay, nothing is wrong. It’s just that I remember my mom telling me to hold the string tightly, to not let it go for anything. She said if I let go, then my balloon would drift away. She was right obviously, that’s exactly what happened.”

“Is that why you let it go? Because of what she told you?” I ask, thinking maybe he was a kid just testing out the validity of what he’d been told.

But Chase shakes his head no.

I can’t understand why this memory would bother Chase so much. I mean, little kids lose their balloons like that all the time. I recall losing a few of my own the same way.

But then Chase explains. “See, I did it on purpose, Kay. I
let
the string go. But not because of what my mother said. I just didn’t want the red balloon, after all.” He presses his lips together. “I guess I knew that balloon wasn’t really filled with magic. I remember telling myself that if I let it go, then I’d never have to find out the truth. The illusion would remain. I could keep on pretending. That’s why I let that damn red balloon go.”

It’s kind of a sad story, and Chase appears disheartened. I suddenly have an idea. I decide when I next go to the ladies room I’ll buy Chase a new red balloon and surprise him with it. Maybe it can be my way to show my boy magic
does
exist. Not in the balloon, of course, but in his heart and mine. This love we carry for one another feels magical, that’s for certain. And buying Chase a red balloon will be symbolic, something tangible to express my point.

After we share a corn dog, a funnel cake, and a soft drink, Chase and I finally make our way to the bake stand to check up on my cookies. Missy sees us coming and bristles a bit. She and Chase barely make eye contact. I look from one to the other questioningly, but neither says a word.
Whatever
.

While Chase pretends to be very interested in a pineapple upside-down cake that’s for sale—a type of cake I know for a fact he dislikes—I ask Missy how the snickerdoodles have been selling.

“They’re all gone, Kay. We sold every dozen.”

She gives me a tight, but genuine smile, and I exclaim, “That’s great!”

Chase smiles uneasily and asks me if I’m ready to go. I am, but after all the soda, I really have to run to the ladies’ room first. Both look dismayed when I make this announcement. Nonetheless, I leave Chase with Missy, and hustle down to the facilities.

Good, maybe those two can finally work out whatever silly differences they obviously have with one another. It couldn’t be anything all that important, right?

After I finish up in the ladies’ room, I stop at the stand selling balloons and buy the biggest red one they have. On the way back, I take a path that runs behind the stands so Chase won’t see the balloon I bought him until the last minute. I walk quickly, trying to keep the helium-filled balloon down by my side and out of sight. But, as I approach the bake sale stand, I slow considerably. Only because I hear Chase and Missy’s hushed voices, and it sounds as if they’re arguing.