She holds my hand the whole time, and when I’m done she stands and paces the deck a few times. She looks angry. “Have you reported it yet?” is the first thing she says.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I don’t want Chase to get in trouble, and I don’t want dad to find out. I love it here, mum. He’ll make me come home. I know it.”
“You can’t let this bastard get away with what he did to you, sweetie,” she says slightly calmer as she comes and sits beside me.
“He’s in a coma, mum.” When I say this, the colour drains from her face.
“I see,” she exhales. “From what Chase did?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” We both sit in silence. I think she understands now why I haven’t reported it.
But my heart sinks when she says, “I wish I could ask your father for advice.”
“No mum, please!” I beg.
“I don’t like keeping secrets from him, especially something like this. But you’re right. He’d have you on the first plane home. If you didn’t have Chase here to look after you, I’d probably be doing the same thing.”
“I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position. I know you and daddy tell each other everything.”
“Don’t be sorry, sweetie,” she says as she pulls me back into her loving embrace. “I’m glad you told me. I’m furious but also sorry this happened to you.”
••••
After our little talk this morning, what happened with Riley was only mentioned once more. She wanted to know if I had any physical evidence I could document, just in case it was needed in the future. I didn’t. All I had was my grass-stained clothes, grazed palms and knees.
She took photos of my injuries and bagged up the clothes, which were still sitting in the bin in my bathroom. “His DNA will be all over these,” was all she said. Living with a lawyer for all these years was rubbing off on her.
After she forced some breakfast into me, she made me shower and dress so we could go grocery shopping. She asked me a lot of questions about Chase and his family while we were out. I thought it was kind of weird, but I guess after what happened with Riley, she was just doing the overprotective motherly thing.
I bought all the ingredients for my seafood pasta, and mum got what she needed to make us dessert. She’s a fantastic cook, but dessert is definitely her speciality. If Chase thought my omelette was the bomb, he’s in for a treat when he tastes what we cook for him tonight.
I’m happy my mum invited him to dinner. I knew she’d love him. It’s my dad who worries me.
••••
Chase
I shower and dress for my dinner date. I’m surprised at how nervous I feel about tonight. I don’t do dinner dates, and I certainly don’t do parents, but fuck me if I’m not looking forward to tonight. I get to see Angel again, and hopefully a chance to know her mum a little better. I really like her. She’s the kind of mother you see in those shows on television, and the kind I always dreamed of having.
When I walk into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of wine I put in the fridge earlier today, Pops says, “Where the fuck are you goin’ all dolled up? You smell like a fuckin’ chick with all that shit you’re wearin’.”
I ignore his smartarse remark. I know he’s just trying to get me to bite. “I’m going over to Angel’s house for dinner. Her mum’s in town.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Nothin’,” he says with a chuckle.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’ve really done your nuts over this one, haven’t ya, boy?” When I tell him to fuck off he just roars laughing. I haven’t done my nuts over her. It’s fucking dinner, nothing more.
“Don’t wait up,” I say with a wink as I walk past him, making my way to the door.
“Hey. When do I get to meet her?”
“Never,” I call out. I hear him laugh again as I close the front door.
••••
When I pull into her driveway, the nerves settle in again. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m not usually the nervous type. “Fuck me,” I mumble to myself as I rub my hands over my face.
Angel’s beaming when she answers the door. Seeing her smile like this makes my nerves vanish immediately. I haven’t seen her smile so genuinely in months. As always, she takes my breath away.
“Hey,” I say, passing her the wine.
“Hey. Come in.” She moves to the side so I can enter. “Hope you’re hungry.”
The smell of whatever they’re cooking hits every one of my senses. “It smells delicious,” I say following her towards the kitchen. I swear I hear her mumble, “So do you,” but I’m not sure if it’s just wishful thinking on my part. My eyes drift down to her arse. Food is not the only thing I’m hungry for. I have to remind myself yet again, we’re only friends. As much as I’d like to, I won’t be taking a piece of that arse again.