I turned and headed for the stairs, catching sight of myself in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. When I’d been younger, my dad would lift me up so I could see my reflection.
In that moment, I saw myself whether I wanted to or not. My fake black hair made my freckles stand out even more against my fair skin, and I liked the effect. I inspected my blonde roots, which were inching out more and more every day; I’d have to do something about them eventually.
My dad was in his room downstairs, but I discovered a sticky note he’d left for me in the kitchen. He’d created a stack of breakfast foods: a box of oatmeal on bottom with a banana balancing on top. The sticky note was stuck to the top of the banana and he’d added a smiley face for emphasis.
Breakfast :)
I could hear the TV in his room replaying baseball footage from years past. I ignored the oatmeal, grabbed the banana, and headed out the door. It was 9:30 AM on a Saturday and I had nowhere to go. My options were limited considering I had no friends in Blackwater; I hadn’t kept in touch with anyone. The town had one coffee shop and if I remembered correctly, it was usually overrun by a bridge club on Saturday mornings. I resolved to head in that direction anyway.
I slipped my headphones in and started the short walk toward the town square, hopeful that something would catch my attention on the way. I was at the end of the street—about to turn the corner onto Main Street—when I heard a car rumbling down the road behind me. The distinct sound was loud enough to disrupt my Vance Joy playlist and there was only one car in town that was that decrepit. My gut clenched and I turned despite my better judgment, just in time to see the clunky monster swerve up into our driveway. The truck had seen better days, possibly during the Nixon administration, but Chase owned the wear and tear like a badge of honor. Like most things, the old truck just added to the small town charm of Chase Matthews. All-American baseball star. Prom king. Heartthrob. My ex-best friend.
He was sitting behind the wheel, staring up at my small house. Even from down the street I could make out his handsome profile from behind his truck’s dusty windows. He was perfect. The culmination of good genes and baseball practice made it easy for him to fill out his tall frame. I couldn’t see his hazel eyes from where I stood, but if I closed my mine, I could imagine them clear as day.
He lingered there for a few minutes, taking in our house. Then his head shifted to the passenger seat, and my heart dropped.
I turned and ran; he couldn’t know I was watching him.
I kept running right down Main Street and even as I slowed to a walk, I couldn’t brush away the memory of his smile. That was the hardest thing to forget about Chase. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t seen it up close in a year and a half; it’d been my constant companion for sixteen years.
Chapter Three
Chase
I stared up at the Calloways’ house and tried to find the courage to get out of my truck. I checked for life behind the living room curtains and the window that ran along the upstairs hallway. I hadn’t been inside their house in over a year, and I had no clue what waited for me on the other side of that front door.
I didn’t want to move in with the Calloways, but thanks to my dad, I didn’t really have a choice. In recent years, he’d progressed from the fun-loving life of the party into a miserable alcoholic that drank alone. A few days earlier, Coach Calloway had stopped by and found him asleep in a pool of his own vomit with the oven left on, and he wouldn’t hear of me continuing to live there. So there I was, practically an orphan.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to where Harvey was sitting next to me on the bench, unabashedly licking his crotch. Typical dog. I reached out and scratched the sweet spot behind his ear.
“Should we head in?” I asked the two-year-old golden retriever.
He tilted his head to the left and let his tongue hang out. It was as much of a yes as I’d ever get.
I opened my truck door and hopped out just as the front door swung open. Coach Calloway stepped out with a cup of coffee. He held his free hand up to block the morning sun and nodded a welcome.
“Mornin’. Need help with your stuff?”
I shrugged. “It’s not much. I just have a few bags and Harvey’s bed.”
At the sound of his name, Harvey tried to shove past me so he could jump down and get to Coach Calloway. He pawed at my jeans and when that didn’t work, he let out a desperate bark. All in all, it wasn’t a stellar first impression.
“We can keep him outside if it’ll be trouble. I just couldn't leave him at home. My dad forgets to feed him.”
Coach’s gaze hit mine. “No trouble at all. Lilah always wanted a dog. She’ll be excited.”
I glanced behind him at the mention of her name.