Page 69 of Someone to Hold
“You are nothing like your father,” I tell him after a moment.
“You don’t know me well enough to say that.” His voice is so hollow, it’s like there’s a canyon between us.
I want to reach out to him. To put my hand on his arm and offer him whatever comfort I can. But I know that’s not what he wants, even if it might be what he needs.
Instead, I stay quiet. I don’t know where I stand or what we are to each other, but I do know he means more to me than I’ll admit to either of us. Still, I let that silent chasm widen. By the time we pull down the long driveway to the house that I want to be mine—the house that might be his if I can’t make it work—we might as well be in different time zones.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask quietly.
“I’m not good company right now.”
“I don’t need good company,” I say with a smile that feels forced. “But maybe you need?—”
“No.”
The word feels like a slap.
“I’m sorry,” he adds quickly. “I just...”
“I get it,” I say, even though I don’t. I mean, I do. He’s upset, and I’m not the person he wants to go to for solace. It’s stupid to let my feelings get hurt by that. To think that it has something to do with some sort of lack in me.
“I can get the scooter,” he says, unfastening his seatbelt.
“I’ll grab it. If you can just leave the containers next to the greenhouse, I’ll put them away in a bit.”
“I can?—”
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the flower fields, and my chest aches watching him struggle with whatever’s churning inside him.
“I’m okay, Chase. Do whatever you need to do to get yourself right again. But know that you’re not wrong for what you’re feeling.”
“I feel like it would be easier if my father were dead,” he says, like he’s trying to shock me.
“Plenty of people—both kids and adults—have had that thought about a parent on more than one occasion.”
“Do you evernotsee the good in someone?” he asks softly.
"I can't find much good in your father.”
"You aren't wrong." He's quiet for a moment, his hands tight on the steering wheel. "I never told you why I owe Linda."
I wait, heart hammering in my chest. I've been wanting him to tell me, but not like this, when he's so raw and hurting.
"It was the summer after high school graduation. I was partying my ass off every night, trying to forget that a few weeks earlier I’d found my best friend and my girlfriend fucking in the back of his pickup. I was a mess, and I walked into the house to discover Dad beating on my mom—again. Things had gotten better between them, or so my sister and I thought. Turns out, Mom had just gotten better at hiding it. Something in me snapped. Too many years of living in fear or maybe I needed anoutlet for the anger and hurt I wouldn’t let myself feel over Teddy and Mariah. Either way, I nearly put my father in the hospital."
His voice is flat, like he's reading from a police report. "The cops arrested me, and while I was sitting in that cell, he sold my horse. Orion was the only thing I had that mattered and my shot at a future bigger than my past."
My throat tightens. "Chase?—"
"Linda bailed me out. She and Teddy bought Orion back and kept him hidden at the farm until I could get my rodeo permit. They helped me buy a trailer and gave me enough money to leave town. I started with roping events before I moved to bull riding, and I couldn’t have done any of it without them.” He finally turns to look at me. "That's the debt I owe. That's why I'm here."
The weight of it settles between us as all the pieces finally click into place.
"I'm glad they helped you." I have to look away before the ache in my chest shows on my face. I want to reach for him, to tell him I understand why he made the choices he did. That he isn’t alone. But understanding doesn't change anything between us. "Thanks for your help today. And for telling me.”
He nods but keeps his gaze on the steering wheel like it’s a Magic 8 Ball. I wish it could give me some answers.
I climb out of the truck, shut the passenger door, and take out the scooter. I can't wait until I get this stupid boot off my foot, so I can get rid of the ramp and every reminder of Chase Calhoun's kindness. I'll earn the money to buy this farm outright and move on—for me and my kids.
