I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (9 page)

I hate to admit it, but I must be honest. I was equally enthralled by those stories. I guess Chase Gartner has always held my attention, though I’ve never met him and I certainly don’t trust him, especially now that he’s done time in prison. But he certainly is good-looking; I’ve never been blind to the obvious. And I sure remember the stories from four years ago, as clearly today as back when I first heard them.

Another thing I must confess is this: the stories that fascinated me the most were the ones that dealt with Chase’s sexual reputation, the tales of his conquests. Of particular interest was that it seemed being “conquered” by Chase was something to remember.

And how did I find this out?

One day I was in the public library in town, hidden in the stacks, when I overheard two girls whispering. Okay, maybe I was eavesdropping, just a little. In any case, when I heard the name Chase Gartner, my ears perked up immediately. Standing very still, so as not to be discovered, I clutched the paperback I’d been reading, held it to my chest tightly, and listened with rapt attention.

Whispers and squeals abounded, making it difficult to decipher much of what was being said, but it became clear at one point that one of the girls had been
conquered
by Chase, and the other was digging for details. To my delight, Conquered was more than willing to share her recently acquired knowledge with her friend. And with me, of course, though she had no clue I was listening in.

“Being with Chase is something to remember,” Conquered gushed to her friend as she giggled and blushed. “In fact, he’s definitely ruined me for all other men.” She sighed. “No one will ever be able to compare.”

Really?
I thought.

“Oh God, really?” her friend echoed. “Details, honey, give me the dirt. Like, why? How? What makes
him
so good? And just how good is he?”

Yes, Conquered, just how good is he?
My fingers dug into pages penned by Harper Lee as I almost asked the question out loud.

“It’s hard to explain,” Conquered said slowly.
Try
, I thought.

“Chase is just so intense, so into what he’s doing, he makes you feel, like,
everything
.”

Her friend was speechless, as was I.

And then Conquered added wistfully, “Chase’s sex is just crazy-good, there’s no other way to put it.”

And that was when I dropped my book.

Luckily, both girls were too busy giggling and squealing over Chase’s crazy-good sex that they took no notice of my bumbling.

I spent another five minutes just standing there, not bothering to pick up my poor forgotten paperback. I was too busy thinking, thinking about how good this
crazy – good
sex with Chase Gartner could possibly be. Because, Lord knows, I sure wasn’t getting anything even close to crazy-good from my boyfriend at the time, Doug Wilson. No surprise there. It was a relationship that never should have happened, a relationship bore out of manipulation, nurtured by deceit and lies, and ending in disaster.

And this is how it all went down…

Once upon a time, my family lived south of Market Street—the very best part of town—three doors down from the respected Wilson family, three doors down from their blond-haired, hazel-eyed son, Doug, who happened to have a good-looking physique, one I’d noticed on occasion. I never pursued anything, even though it would have been easy since our parents had been friends for years. I just wasn’t all that interested. There was something off-putting about Doug Wilson. His nice façade held something more sinister, a dark side perhaps. And not the appealing kind, no. I sensed Doug’s dark side was more of a flat-out asshole variety. Thus, I had no burning desire to get to know him. But our mothers had other plans.

Our families were close. Our dads played golf together, and our moms…well they were thicker than thieves. Mrs. Wilson and my mom did Pilates together, and hosted neighborhood parties as a kind of overly peppy team. Those things were harmless, but one day, out of the clear blue, they decided to play matchmaker with their kids, meaning Doug and me.

Pushed together by our insistent mothers, we started dating right before the start of college, freshman year. Our mothers were convinced for some reason that we were destined. The hope was that we’d fall madly in love and marry. I think Mom and Mrs. Wilson just wanted to be tied together forever; they were like some kind of disillusioned long-lost sisters. It was ridiculous and silly, but I played along…for a while.

Doug was okay, at first. I thought maybe I’d misjudged him. One thing, he was very clean-cut, the kind of guy my parents wanted me to end up with. That’s why I think I said yes when he asked to be my boyfriend, my first boyfriend.

I soon discovered there were a lot of firsts that went along with that title. Doug and I were each other’s firsts for a lot of things, most all of them physical. But sadly, as time wore on, those physical things didn’t mean all that much to me. I never grew to love Doug the way our mothers hoped for. I stayed with Doug anyway, out of obligation, out of habit, but mostly to please my mother. And she certainly was pleased, sometimes disturbingly so.

This one time, when I was home from school for spring break, my mother discovered my birth control pills. She’d been snooping around in my room. Doug and I always used condoms, but I was so fearful of being tied to him forever by that point that I’d started the pill as extra protection. Instead of being angry, like I fully expected, my mother was thrilled. She said it was great. It meant we were finally getting serious. I rolled my eyes at her utter cluelessness when she turned away. Unfortunately, finding those pills gave my mother and Mrs. Wilson some kind of green light to start planning the wedding. Yes, the wedding,

“Not for a few more years, mind you,” my mother assured me with a patronizing pat to my head. “But there’s no such thing as planning too early, you know. You’re going to have the best wedding, Kay. We’ll make sure of it.” She didn’t mean herself and me—she meant herself and Mrs. Wilson.

Nothing was sacred when it came to my relationship with Doug. It was me and him, and our meddling mothers. I was downright horrified when my mother ran and told Mrs. Wilson all about the birth control. Doug’s mother didn’t need to know I was having sex with her son. Ugh, where were the boundaries? My mother respected nothing.

My life spun faster and faster, things felt out of control. I was pleasing everyone but myself, and at my own expense. One morning, in the early days of summer break, after close to a year of dating someone I no longer cared to even be around, I woke up and decided to start leading an honest life. I didn’t love Doug, and it was time to tell him…and our mothers.

Unfortunately, when I went downstairs to break the news to my mother first, she showed me the guest list she’d been working on for this down-the-road, in-her-head wedding. I froze, suddenly losing my nerve. How could I fess up and tell her I didn’t want to be with her best friend’s son a minute longer? I’d shatter my mother’s dreams. Were hers more important than my own? Maybe so. They certainly loomed larger in my mind.

I was beginning to feel like I wasn’t living my own life anymore, I was living one for my mom. But I was afraid if I stopped pleasing her she’d stop loving me. She was hard like that. Always was and still is, now more than ever. And I was right to fear, her love for me was never freely given.

So, that day, I said nothing to Mom, nothing to Doug. I continued to live a lie. I stayed with someone I knew I’d never love. I think Doug sensed it too. I think he’d known for a while. He’d grown bitter, I could tell, but he stayed with me out of spite. Or maybe he stayed with me for the power it gave him. The dark side I’d sensed in him reared its ugly head. Doug began to take things out on me, he made me do things I didn’t want to do. He became pushy and mean. But I was weak, and my weakness led to disaster. Not for Doug, not for me, but for Sarah.

I wish now I’d done things differently, knowing how it all turned out, seeing how my family was torn apart. But it’s too late, what’s done is done. The biggest irony of the sad and tragic situation is that while my mother won’t speak to me, she still has contact with Doug. I may be to blame for what happened to Sarah, but Doug Wilson played a part. I guess not a big enough part to be forsaken by the woman who still calls herself my mother, even though she’s not been one to me for four long years.

I wish I’d never found out Mom speaks to Doug. It makes the ache in my heart cut deeper. But I did find out, courtesy of my father and one of our short phone conversations. I think he just slipped up, he told me the day he called that the reason he had some time alone on his hands was because my mom was out, having dinner with Mrs. Wilson and her son. She only has one son, so I knew he meant Doug. See, Doug lives in Columbus these days. My father also let out that when Doug’s mother goes into town to see her son my mother usually meets them out for dinner.

The three of them sitting around a table, laughing and smiling, while I sit here paying for all of our mistakes.
Unbelievable.
They can all stay in Columbus for all I care. I’m just thankful Doug doesn’t live in Harmony Creek anymore. It’s bad enough when I know he’s in town visiting his family. During those times, I avoid him at all costs. And, so far, we’ve yet to cross paths.

The rain comes to a sudden stop and breaks me from my disturbing reverie. A sliver of sun peeks out from behind a cloud. I’ve spent enough time here today, dwelling on the past.

It’s time to move on.

I comb my fingers through my dampened hair and stand. Crazy thing, my hair probably looks better all rain-damp wavy. Not that anyone will see. All the parishioners are gone for the day.

My clothes are dry, but the ballet flats are still a soggy mess. However, I am not about to walk barefoot all the way back to the car, so, with a grimace, I squish the shoes back onto my feet.

The clouds disperse as I make my way out of the cemetery. A bright blue sky is revealed, along with the promise of a beautiful day.
Maybe a new beginning
, I tell myself. By the time I reach the stone pathway the sun is beaming, blindingly so. I detour over the grass terrace and start across the church lot to where my car is parked. But I can’t see a thing with the sun glaring in my face.

I lower my head and fumble around in my bag, searching for the pair of knock-off designer sunglasses I bought the other day.

“Where are they?” I mumble to myself, nudging Peetie and pushing aside my hardly-ever-used makeup bag.

I spot the edge of a mirrored lens under the stuffed bunny.
There.
Without ever slowing my pace—or lifting my head—I victoriously lift the sunglasses out of my bag. And at that exact second I plow right into someone. “Oomph,” I cough out as I make contact with a broad, muscular chest.

I hear a smooth, male voice say, “Shit, sorry.”

At the same time, an ominous crunching noise is heard.
Uh-oh, there goes the sunglasses.

All this happens in just a few seconds, and I sway a little post-impact. Two sure hands find purchase on either side of my waist, steadying me, keeping me right. What a kind stranger. I glance up—curious to see who this tall, kind man is that I’ve just wrecked into.

Shit.

I realize two things simultaneously: One, I’ve just collided with Chase Gartner. And two—dear God—the man is absolutely beautiful up close. Gorgeous, stunning, there are not enough adjectives to adequately expound. He’s just wow, just…freakin’
w-o-w
.

I’ve seen Chase in church recently, sure, but it’s always from afar.

Picture me throwing a quick glance to the back from the front pews, Missy squealing in my ear, “See, see, he’s hot, right? Oh crap, turn around. He’s looking this way.”

Yeah, that sort of thing.

And sure, Chase always looks damn fine sitting in those back pews, better than in the pictures the newspapers printed of him when he was arrested. But up close, here and now, I can see the guy is physical perfection personified. I am not exaggerating. He’s incredibly nice to look at, so look is what I do. Possibly, I stare.

Chase licks his lips a little, in a kind of hot manner that makes me notice right away how highly kissable his lips happen to be—full, slightly moistened, and ready to go. I’m somewhat mesmerized, but I don’t want this man to catch me staring at his kissable lips, so I move on up to his eyes. But his eyes, oh my, they do me in more than the lips. I could get lost in their depths, surely I could. In fact, I kind of do just that.

Chase’s eyes are this amazing blue—pale and kind of light, but with flecks of gray around the irises. His eyes hold me captive—like they’re a weapon he’s wielding—so I christen them gunmetal blue.

His eyes, his lips, his hands on my waist, Chase stirs me up and spins me out. A wanton lust courses through me. I like his hands on my body, I like the way his fingers flex when I remember to breathe. And I really do have to remind myself to take in oxygen.
Breathe, Kay, breathe
.

Forget it.

I quickly discover oxygen is secondary when all you can think about is crazy-good sex, and how this gorgeous man is the one who could give it to you.

I make no effort to extricate myself from his grasp, I don’t even move. And why would I? I want Chase’s hands to stay on my waist. I want him to squeeze a little tighter, maybe slide a little lower. My pulse is flying as I suck in a gasp of air.

My reactions reveal me, though, I see knowing in those gunmetal blues.

The corner of Chase’s mouth turns up in a particularly captivating manner, and it tells me two things: One, this man can read women, and two, he’s just read me. All in about a minute.
Damn, he’s good.

But, this isn’t me,
I remind myself. Why am I thinking these lust-filled thoughts? Why am I checking out
Chase-freaking-Gartner
?

Why, indeed? I planned on keeping an eye on the guy, but certainly not like this.

I start to apologize—for crashing into him, ogling him, I don’t know which. But he cuts me off with a softly delivered, “Hey, I really am sorry. Are you okay?” His voice isn’t just smooth, it seduces.