Her most recent Chase-fail was downloading the acoustic cover he’d released of ‘their song’ “Crazy Love” by Van Morrison and adding it to her ‘Chase playlist.’ He’d performed it live at the Grammys earlier this year. It had been his first performance after announcing that he was going to put out a solo record. Within twenty-four hours, the performance had garnered over a million hits on YouTube and shot straight up the charts to number one on iTunes.
Krista had watched the show in her room, by herself. As she laid on her bed—wearing his shirt, which she’d had since seventh grade—she’d closed her eyes and, just like that, she had been transported back in time to the first time he’d sung that to her.
They’d ridden their bikes down to the river on a sunny summer day. When they’d gotten there, there was a blanket spread out on the bank. Chase had somehow set up a picnic for them prior to them arriving without her knowing. They’d eaten deli sandwiches and drank soda out of the can. Then he pulled out his guitar, told her he’d been working on learning ‘their song,’ and begun strumming the chords to the beautiful melody. Before he’d even sung the first lyric, she’d had tears falling down her face.
Now she listened to his live performance every night on her iPod as she fell asleep. Most nights, a few tears still slipped down her cheeks.
The other non-media-related culprit that hindered her personal must-get-over-Chase-at-all-costs campaign was the fact that he still contacted her—like clockwork. Four times a year, without fail, she’d receive something from him. Presents, flowers, messages, emails. The dates were always the same: on her birthday, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and the anniversary of their first time. No matter where around the globe he was, Chase had not missed one of those dates in ten years.
There were also the random messages that simply stated, “I miss you,” or variations of that theme. Some were more specific. “I miss your smile.” “I miss your eyes.” “I miss your laugh.” “I miss your lips.” Those texts were far worse than any present, voicemail, or flower delivery because she never knew when they were coming, so she couldn’t brace herself for impact.
“Krista.” Misty’s high-pitched voice interrupted Krista’s inner thoughts. “Does he? Ever come back here?”
“As far as I know, he hasn’t been back to Harper’s Crossing since he left halfway through his senior year.” Not even to attend his father’s funeral—not that she’d blamed him. Krista pulled her purse strap up on her shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. “See you tomorrow.” Krista’s tone was as upbeat as she could possibly manage as she slipped out of the door.
Krista was halfway down the hall in the blink of an eye. As she blew on her hands, which were always cold, she hoped that she’d satisfied Misty’s curiosity, at least for now. If the girl dug much deeper, asked a few of the right people, then she’d easily unearth the fact that, not only had Krista known Chase, she’d been his girlfriend on and off for six years.
But that was what felt like a lifetime ago. Before he’d left Harper’s Crossing. Before his rise to fame as the lead singer of Midnight Rush. Before they’d been adults.
Now Krista had a career. Goals. A full, rich life that had nothing to do with Chase Malone.
She almost had herself convinced until she remembered where she was headed. It was Wednesday, which meant that she needed to go over and check on Abby. Her relationship with Chase’s mom honestly had nothing to do with him. When she’d actually been Chase’s girlfriend, she hadn’t spent much time around the woman at all. Mainly because his father Roger had still been alive.
When Krista had graduated from college and received her Bachelor’s degree, she’d returned home to work on her DPT and had also started volunteering for the Harper’s Crossing Women’s Shelter (HCWS). Around the same time, Roger had died of a brain aneurism. After spending time with the women at the shelter, she’d begun noticing similarities in their demeanor and behavior with that of Abby’s. She’d always known that Roger had been horrible to Chase, but as a kid and teen, she’d never even thought about the fact that his abuse might have been directed towards his wife as well.
Seeing how broken the women at the shelter were, Krista had started visiting Abby, checking up on her. It was shocking and heartbreaking to see the shell of a person Chase’s mom had become and the conditions she lived in. Krista had decided on her first visit that something had to be done. It had taken over a year to finally convince Abby to see someone about her fragile mental state, but when she did, they’d prescribed her Cymbalta and she was now doing much better. She even ventured out to the movies with Krista just last weekend.