Caught in the Flames (16 page)

Chase stands from the couch and stomps into the kitchen, yanks his clothes back on quicker than he pulled them off not twenty minutes ago. His movements are rough, rigid, and I know he’s upset, but I am, too.

I don’t want him to leave like this.

“Hey, where are you going? Stay. Let’s talk about this,” I stand and say with a calm I don’t really feel.

He pauses, meets my gaze and his eyes soften a little. He maintains eye contact but resumes dressing. “I have to go, Callie. I’m not mad at you, okay. I just don’t like to talk about my family. That’s why I haven’t invited you over. And I’m not leaving because I’m angry. I have to stop by a friend’s house. I’d stay over but I don’t know how long I’ll be, and you and I both have to work in the morning. I’m sorry. I wish things were different, but please don’t ask me to talk about my family again.”

I step into the kitchen, using the throw blanket as a makeshift robe. He bends down to tie the laces of his shoes. I really want to ask him about Pancake Bitch Tiff. But now is not the time. I’ve clearly upset him enough for one night.

He stands and blows out a deep breath, retrieves his keys from his pocket, and meets my gaze. We stare a long moment. He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something but then snaps it shut. I don’t want him to leave this way.

“I’m sorry, Chase. I don’t want you to leave. I won’t ask about your family. I didn’t know. Why don’t you stay a little longer? We’ll eat dinner together.”

His eyes soften into melted chocolate and he walks to me, crushes me in his arms for an embrace. We stay like that just breathing each other in.

“You’re the best, Callie.” He pulls back, leaves a chaste kiss on my forehead and offers me a weak smile. “I brought soup. I thought maybe you’d feel sick after last night, but I guess you’re more of a badass chick than I even imagined.”

“Ah!” I chuckle, earning a grin from him. “I’m no badass. You just timed your visit right. Missed all the upchucking mess.”

His phone pings from his pocket and his lips pull into a tight line. “That’s the friend I promised to visit. I better go.” He shrugs. I want to beg him to stay, for the night, or for a little longer, but I won’t. He kisses my lips softly and then says good-bye, leaving me with cold soup and more doubts than I want to consider.

I hate insecurities.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I go from confident, trusting, happy Callie to questioning-someone’s-motives-while-rocking-in-a-corner Callie.

After Chase left all I wanted to do was binge on Netflix and delivery pizza. And despite the fact my house was perfectly clean, laundry folded and put away, and fridge fully stocked for the week, I still felt restless, unsettled, wrong.

It was probably the hangover. Maybe it was the great sex followed by my disappearing act of a boyfriend. But my mind wanders back to Chase and his family and why he didn’t tell me we were in his apartment last night. I run through every possibility fathomable as to why he would deceive me in that way. None of the reasons I imagine settle my growing doubt.

So instead I lace up my running shoes for a jog around the neighborhood.

I think about taking my usual route, but with Kiki’s house toward the beginning of the circuit, I’ll likely ditch the run to chat with her if she’s around. No, I need motivation, an incentive to stay the course. Exiting my drive, I head west and turn onto Brookerson for an uphill challenge.

Fuck
. Now I remember why I never go this way. This hill is a bitch. It’s much easier running the opposite direction. Sweat dampens my skin and slides between my legs where my thighs touch with each consecutive stride.

Don’t think, just run.

Don’t think.

Just run.

I chant it over and over with each step I take. My muscles strain and I find a rhythm. The sun sets above the silhouettes of homes, breaking free of the clouds and painting the sky in vibrant burnt hues of orange. Almost like flames. Fire. Firemen. Chase. Damn it, I’m back to him again.

I shake it off and when I’m almost to the end of the street I spot a familiar car parked in the drive two houses up. I stop. Almost trip as realization dawns. It’s a rare car. Not like a silver Camry or even a white Tahoe. I’d know that beefy body style anywhere, and the gunmetal gray shoots straight through my heart.

Why is Chase’s car parked in this driveway? Who lives here?

I should jog back home. Or even complete the full three-mile loop, but there’s no fucking way I’ll ever sleep tonight if I vacate the premise without answers. I glance around, find a group of kids—more like pre-teens—riding their bikes in the cul-de-sac a few houses over. I don’t think, I just sprint. These kids will be able to give me more results than anyone else.

“Hey!” I call out and wave at the riders. They give each other that worried look and I realize I must look insane, running at them full throttle and drenched in sweat. I slow my gait and try a friendlier smile. As I walk closer one of the boys puts on his brakes. I set my tone to sweet as pie and point at Chase’s Camaro. “Hey, I’m new to the neighborhood, but can you tell me who lives in that house over there?” There’s no doubt it’s his car. His custom license plate mocks me from its placeholder. HUGH2. I never noticed that before.
What the hell?

The kid narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you want to know?” Thanks so much, stranger danger awareness. I smile again.

“I think one of my old friends from junior high lives there but I don’t want to look stupid if it’s not him, you know?” I laugh and the kid almost smiles.

“It’s Miss McClain’s house.”

A woman. Of course it is.

Don’t get jealous. You don’t even know who she is. You need more information.
If I get a name I can look her up online as soon as I’m home.

“Do you happen to know her full name?”

“Tiffany, but all the grownups call her Tiff.”
Fuck. Really? He’s here. With her.
Instead of home with me.
Anger and sadness mix together and I blink back the stinging tears. “You okay, ma’am?”

“Never better,” I manage, and hightail it home, taking the shortcut through Bentley Street. My breath catches in my chest and squeezes so tightly I can’t inhale. Warm tears fall from my eyes and cloud my vision.

Shit.
Ouch!

My foot must catch a fault in the concrete and I biff it, falling hard with the brunt of the force to one knee.

“Fuck!” I shout and roll to my side. The knee that probably saved my face from road rash is scraped deep and filled with tiny bits of rock. Blood gathers just under the scraped skin and turns to red as it pools around the gravel lodged in my flesh. I sit up and give in to the realization that my boyfriend is not who he claimed to be. I cry, hard, and allow the tears to fall with no regard.

“Callie, dear, is that you?”

I glance up and wipe my face to find Kiki at the edge of her drive, peering back with concern. I brace myself for the pain and stand. My knee doesn’t want to move and I hobble the rest of the way to her house.

“Oh, honey, what happened to you? Have a little spill? Come inside, I’ll clean that right up.”

“Thanks, Kiki.” It’s comforting to have her worry and protection, to have someone take care of me. Inside, my mind goes a little numb while Kiki hovers. She cleans my wound and brews a fresh pot of coffee. She’s basically my guardian angel.

It’s not until she places the mug in my hands and the aroma of pure goodness meets my nostrils that I find the courage to speak.

“Kiki, do you know who Tiffany McClain is?”

Kiki, mid pour in her own cup of joe, halts her movement and searches my eyes a long moment. She resumes filling her cup and sits across the table. “Why do you ask?”

“Chase left tonight. We had an argument. Well, it was more a lovers’ squabble, and he said he needed to go meet a friend. He wasn’t angry, we had made up, sort of. And I decided to take a jog, only this time I took a different route, and well—” I sniffle back the emotion that threatens to escape and take a sip before I continue. “You can imagine my surprise when I saw his car in her driveway!”

Kiki meets my gaze and sips from her own cup. Her lips and eyes give nothing away. “Callie, what do you want me to say?”

“I just want to know the truth. Who is this Tiff person and what is she to Chase? Did they date? Were they together? Is she just some jealous hose chaser? It’s driving me crazy not knowing!”

“He hasn’t told you?” Her brow lifts.

“Told me what?”

“Listen Callie, I’m going to tell you what I wish someone had told me thirty-five years ago.” She pauses and I wait. My fingers flex protectively around my coffee mug as I prepare to hear her words.

“Ask the hard questions. Go to the source. Don’t rely on other people’s biases and opinions to seek the truth you need. Don’t assume anything. You know what they say about that?” She winks and lets loose a weak, raspy chuckle. “I wish I could help you, I really do, but you need to ask Chase.”

“I know.” I blow out a breath and lean back into my chair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. I know I need to talk to him. It’s just hard.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

“The truth. That he won’t answer. That it’ll cause him to push me away.”

“You can’t be afraid in love, my dear. You must be brave, and strong, and unapologetic. The man who can handle that and lift you up in the process, that’s the man for you.”

“You don’t think that’s Chase?” I frown into my empty cup.

“I didn’t say that, Callie. Only you can know that truth.” She nods to the coffee pot and I smile and hold out my mug.

“Why are you so perfect?” I laugh and Kiki shakes her head. Her thinning white hair shifts with the movement.

“There are many things I am, my dear, but perfect is not one of them.” She sits back down across from me with a wry grin, then she entertains me with stories from her younger, wilder days. Just the distraction I need. The minutes turn to hours and when I finally decide to head home she insists on driving me, reasoning my bum knee and the dark night won’t bode well for a walk home. I’m thankful for her offer and when she drops me back at my place I feel somewhat settled. The most I have all day.

I check the messages on my phone, both disappointed and relieved to find none from Chase. I want to reach out to him. To text him. But the part of me that was hurt by his actions needs him to make the first move. He can text me first after the way he left. After going to
her
.

And Kiki is right. I need to go to the source. I need to ask him about Tiff. As much as my mind wants to race to every possible conclusion, I refuse to go there. Instead, I make a mental list of all the tasks I need to complete at work tomorrow. That finally exhausts my worries and I sleep.

I’m really trying to love my life.

Truly I am. But as I sit at my desk this Monday morning, the owners of Superstition Graphix have confirmed the worst. The company-wide email has murmuring throughout the office at an all-time high, though no one dares move from their cubicle. Our company has been sold.

Now everyone is being sent through Human Resources, one by one, to learn our fate—continue with the company, or be laid off and start a job hunt. Some of my colleagues aren’t even waiting, instead using the company computer to surf online ads until it’s their turn.

And the shitty thing about it? All I can do is sit here and stare at my cell phone. Willing it to please vibrate with a text message alert or phone call. Because even though I know my boyfriend is at work I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t contacted me.

Nothing. I’ve heard nothing from him since he left last night. Is it really so difficult to type out a couple of words and hit send?

My bigger fear, the one that has me obsessed over a message instead of worrying over my future, is that I’m not on his mind. Because he’s been on mine. All night. All day. And what if the reason he’s not thinking about me is because he’s been thinking about
her
?

My desktop phone rings and jolts me from my inner worries. I yank it to my ear. “Hello.”

“Callie Gordon, they’re ready for you in Human Resources.”

“Thank you.” I step from my desk, timid and unprepared for the fate that lies ahead. Oh, God, I just mortgaged a house. I can’t lose my job. Is this only the beginning of me losing everything? My job first, my house next . . . my relationship with Chase?