Authors: V.m Waitt
Chase the Storm (20 page)
Straightening, he walked away a few steps, took off his hat, and wiped his brow. There was a weariness growing in him. Worriedly, I watched him from the loft and wondered if I needed to remind him of a promise I’d made to himalmost two months ago. No matter how quickly the end ofAugust was approaching, I wasn’t goinganywhere.
That night, like the others, we made love in his bed. He touched me, kissed me, and cherished me like he always did before puttinghis head on mychest and fallingsleep.
days that followed, his mood got progressivelyworse. “You’ve been here for months and you still can’t run this?” he
spewed at me when I’d let the large tractor stall again. I knew better than
to reply. I just got out of the seat before he pulled me fromit. I wanted to
scream at him, get him to talk to me, but it wouldn’t do any good; he
would onlyshove me away.
At dinner that night, he didn’t speak, the creases inhis brow deep as
he stirred his food around.
“What’s wrong?”I asked softly, but I alreadyknew the answer. He paused before shaking his head. “Nothing, just have a lot on my
mind.”
“CanI help?”
He raised his eyes to mine, and I saw they were cloudy once again.
“Youcan’t fixeverything, Elijah. Just let it be.”
Standing, he brought his dishes to the sink. Leaving mine on the
table, I went to him and placed my forehead against his back, my hands
on his waist, fisting the material of his shirt. He didn’t say a word, but his
hands covered mine, his fingers threading between my own. Relieved, I
sighed and clutched his sides.
“I know what’s wrong,”I said daringly. “I know why you’re pushing
me away.”
“Elijah,”he warned gruffly, but I continued.
“But I’mstaying,”I said more defiantlythanI’d intended to. “I’mnot
goingto back to school.”
He threw myhands offand spunto face me, a look ofpure anger on
his face. “You think this is all about you and leaving? You don’t know
shit, Elijah. There’s more to my life than you,” he seethed through
clenched teeth. Spinning, he walked out of the room, slamming the door
to his office and leaving me alone with the pieces ofmy heart shredded on
the wood floor.
It had taken him months to open up to me, and now he was
rebuilding the wall around himself, leaving me outside of the brick and
mortar without even giving me a crack to hope for. I silently berated
myself as I tried to keep occupied by cleaning the kitchen. I shouldn’t
have said anything; I should have waited until the day came to leave and
just not gotteninthe truck. It’s not like Chase knew whenI was due back
at college. Once the kitchen was done and there was still no sign of
Chase, I went to the den and sat on the couch, my ears trained on his
door to hear whenit opened. The pictures, the happymemories, ofChase
and Owentaunted me fromthe mantel. Chase would never look at me the
wayhe did Owen. I hadn’t swooped inand saved Chase like Owenhad. Infact, Chase had saved me.
Bedtime came and went, and I stayed on the couch waiting for
Chase. Exhausted from the day, both physically and emotionally, my lids
drooped and finallyclosed.
onto my side, I buried my face in the pillow. Cracking an eye open, I realized I was in bed and not on the couch. Only it was my bed, not Chase’s. I didn’t have to reach beside me to know I was alone, but I turned my head to check anyway, sighing when I saw the empty spot next to me. Not wanting to spend another second away fromhim, I got out of bed and walked downthe hall, stoppingwhenI saw his door.
It was closed.
What little breath I had hitched in my throat. He didn’t want me in his bed. Turning back to my room, I tried to remind myself it wasn’t me he was closing out, it was himself he was protecting, but when I returned to bed, myheart was heavy.
The next day, I was determined to confront him. Dressing, I skipped coffee and went to the barn. He was bent over the large wooden container scooping grain. Sticking out my chin and pulling my shoulders back, I entered the room.
“I told youI’mnot leaving,”I announced rebelliously.
With his back to me, he threw the tin can into the grain and set his hands onthe bin. “Not now, Elijah, we’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, now,” I almost shouted. A horse snorted, surprised at the power behind my voice. He straightened and turned. “Why’d you close me out last night?”
“My room, my choice,” he answered. He sounded collected, but I could hear the rage lacing his words. “Is that all? Can we finish the horses now?”
“No. You’re goingto talk to me,”I said adamantly.
“Fine. Talk,” he growled, folding his arms over his chest and angling his head back enoughso I could see his turbulent eyes under his hat.
Now that he’d agreed, I didn’t know what to say, so I repeated myself. “I’m not leaving. I’m not going back to school. I’m staying here withyouand help trainHolden.”
He shook his head and smirked. “No, you’re not.”
Instinct told me to step back, but I held my ground and changed my tactic. “I don’t want to go back.”
“I don’t give a shit what you want. I hired you for the summer, summer is over, now you leave,” he said coldly, as if I hadn’t spent every night in his bed for the past two months. I could do nothing but stare at him while agony enveloped my heart. “You’ve got two days, and then pack your stuffand leave. I’llhave your check ready.”
Even though I knew exactly what he was doing, tears flooded my eyes. “I don’t give a fuck about the money and you know it,” I said weakly.
Exasperated, he sighed. “Listen, city boy, it’s been fun, okay? Your virgin ass was a great fuck, but now it’s time to grow up and be a man. Youcertainlydidn’t think this was goinganywhere, did you?”Swallowing, I nodded. “Thenyou’re not nearlyas smart as I thought youwere.”
He effectively ended the conversation by turning around and scooping more grain. The words pierced me, and even though I knew the reason behind them, it didn't ease the sharp pain. His rejection felt much like it had the day after we’d first had sex. Taking short breaths, I numbly watered the horses and led them out when they were done eating. No matter how much my brain told my heart he was just trying to protect himself, I could onlyhear the harshwords he’s said.
The rest ofthe day was much the same. He barely spoke to me, and when he did it was to scold me for doing something wrong or yell out orders. The tears eventually stopped, but the ache in my chest remained strong, especially every time I saw himor sensed he was near. I avoided himas much as possible, going up to the loft when he was in the barn and skipping lunch and dinner. As soon as the horses were in for the night, I went to my roomand collapsed onto the bed. Finally alone, I let the tears fall, hoping the entire time he would knock on my door and tell me he’d beenwrongand he wanted me to stay.
He never came.
I could hear him moving around downstairs and was tempted more than once to go see him, try to talk to him, but the courage was never there. My heart halted when he walked by my closed door on his way to his room. I swear he paused, but then his steps continued. I held back a sob when his door slammed shut. Sleepless all night, I replayed the conversation in my head, the animosity in his voice and the way his eyes had drained ofemotion. Somethinghe had said struck me, and for the first time since arriving, I pulled out my laptop and plugged it in. I was relieved when the laptop booted up and found a wireless connection. Clicking, I opened a browser and went to the Harvard homepage and then the student’s schedule.
It confirmed what I alreadyknew.
Chase knew the date I was due back to school. If I left in two days, it would give me a week to make the trip. He knew exactly what he was doing, and now so did I. While I was online, I checked my e-mail, not surprised to find it was mostly messages from the school. There was one e-mail from Trent asking me if I had “been deflowered” yet. I was tempted to replyand sayyes, and he’d beenwonderful. I scanned the rest quickly, noticingthere wasn’t one e-mailfrommymother askingme how I was doing or if I was okay. Shaking my head, I turned the laptop off and put it back in the bag. Armed with new information, I was going to confront Chase once again.
Undressing, I showered and slipped into bed. I spent the rest of the night trying to figure out how I was going to convince a stubborn man I knew what was best for me.
into the barn the next morning to find Chase withAdmiral, his hands rubbing the horse’s muscular neck while he spoke softly to him. The scene mirrored the one from a few months before when I’d walked into the barn the morning after our first night together. Not wanting to interrupt, I stilled, almost holding my breath until he gave Admiral one last pat and led himout ofthe stall.
I was opening McLeod’s door when Chase returned. “I’ve a deliverythis afternoon. Canyouload the trailer?”
The calmness in his voice gave me hope, and I nodded. “Sure, but can we talk first?” They were poorly chosen words. The hint of calmness left and anger returned.
“The conversation is over. You’re fired. I want you off my land tomorrow,”he said dismissively.
The words stung as much as they had the day before, but he walked to Keno’s stallas ifnothinghad happened.
“Fuck you,” I uttered, jerking McLeod’s door opened. I knew he heard me, but he chose to ignore me.
For the rest ofthe day, I stayed awayfromChase eventhoughevery fiber in my body told me to go to him. He paid no attention to me or the damp streaks on my face. When he went inside for lunch, I went over to the pasture gate and looked out over the field. The horses were grazing together, blissfully unaware of the conflict going on around them. Folding myarms onthe gate, I put mychinonthemand sighed.
Not one part of me wanted to leave, but I couldn’t stay. He didn’t want me there, he wanted me at school. I knew very little about love, but I knew it was about sacrifice, and he was sacrificing a possible future with me to make sure I found my path, no matter what it might be or where it might lead me. It was different than how he felt about Owen, but I knew in his own way, Chase loved me. Perhaps not in the all-consuming way I felt for him, but it was love nonetheless. Lakota walked to the gate, searchingme withhis velvet muzzle for treats.
“Hey, boy,” I said, reaching out to scratch his head. “You going to be okaywhenI’mgone?”Myvoice was more brokenthenI intended. As if to reply, he pawed the ground. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too. Thanks for puttingup withme.”
I spent the rest of the day with the horses. Entering the pasture, I went to each one to say good-bye: Keno, Tantor, Jet, Sampson, Calvin, and McLeod. I thanked each of them for teaching me, for letting me handle them. Standing away fromthe heard and stillfullof youthfulenergy was the big bay colt. Lifting his head from grazing, Holden eyed my approach, his mouth still munching on grass, green slime dribbling down his jaw.
“Typicalmessykid,”I said sadlywhenI was standinginfront ofhim. He pushed me withhis nose before snortingonmyshirt. “I’msorryI can’t stay, buddy.”
As if he sensed it was good-bye, he pressed his head to my chest, and I rubbed his ears and patted his neck. While it had been Lakota who put up with my novice riding, it was Holden who held the memories ofthe auction, a time whenChase had beenfree ofgriefand guilt. He might have been the one to purchase Holden, but we’d brought him home together. He was ours.
“I’mgoingto miss youmost ofall,”I whispered before placinga kiss onthe white spot under his forelock. “Be a good boyfor him.”
There was onlyone horse left.
Admiral lifted his massive head curiously as I neared him. Holding out my hand, I stopped and waited for him to come to me. Swinging his head, he ambled over and sniffed my hand for a treat, snorting when he found it empty. Running a hand down the smooth coat of his neck, I leaned into him. Since Chase had told me about Owen, he’d eased up on me handling Admiral, but I’d still kept my distance. It didn’t feel right to intrude on his memory. Unable to resist, I wrapped my arms around his thick neck.
“Please take care ofhimfor me,”I cried into his mane.
Squeezing him one last time, I released him and turned toward the gate. Staring at the ground, I watched the dust kicked up by my boots. I heard hooves and glanced over my shoulder to find Lakota trotting to me, probably thinking I was bringing himinside for dinner. Slowing to a walk, he fellinstride withme, and I patted his neck.
“Not dinnertime yet, boy.”I sniffled.
Wiping my cheek, I looked up and found Chase at the fence. Our eyes met for only a second before he walked away. At the gate, I stopped and gave Lakota one last hug before leaving the pasture and heading straight for the house. Chase could do the nightly chores without me.
Inside, I went upstairs to my room and pulled out my duffle bag. Mechanically, I opened my drawers and dumped them into the bag, then my dirty laundry and things from the bathroom. I returned the laptop to the footlocker. Before I zipped up the bag, I took off my hat and put it inside. I certainly wasn’t going to need it in Boston. Feeling heavier and more broken every second, I put the bag on the floor and lay on the bed. I tried to tell myself I was doing the right thing, I was doing what Chase wanted, but all I could do was list the things I was going to miss: the simple room, Chase’s lopsided smile, horseback riding, the way Chase slept with his head over my heart, the way he felt inside me. The list was endless, each one bringing more aches to my already crushed heart. It was difficult to ignore the sounds of him in the house, hearing him enter and leave each room until he finally walked down the hall outside my door. Like the night before, he paused, giving my heart a sliver of hope before he continued to his roomand closed the door.
Undressing, I left my clothes on the floor and pulled the sheet up to my waist before facing the window and staring out. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye to Chase, telling himwhat he meant to me, but I knew if I did it was going to hurt even more. It would be better to leave before he was up.
I fought sleep, knowing the second my eyes opened, it would be time to leave him. Regardless of my effort, my lids fluttered closed and I unwillinglysuccumbed.
