Pieces of Summer(2)

She spins on her heel and stalks away as I sink to the floor. Picking up my phone, I try to call my father, but of course it goes straight to voicemail. There’s never any cell signal at the lake house, and there’s not a landline there.

Chase doesn’t even have a phone, and I’ve only met his friends a few times. None of them really like me, since they think I’m the rich brat that steals him away every summer. It’s not like I have their numbers on hand.

Our usual snail mail method isn’t good enough at the moment. I really thought Mom was going to let me go, but a letter will take too long to get to him to tell him I can’t come.

Deciding to take my chances, I sneak down to my car, hoping Dad still has my summer wardrobe at the lake house. But just as I get in my car and quietly close the door, the passenger side door opens and my plans get shit on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Uncle Isaac asks me.

Did I mention the asshole from hell brother of my mother has been here since the divorce to make sure my father—who wants nothing to do with my mother—doesn’t try to get her back? Yeah. My life currently sucks balls.

“I’m going to Hayden,” I bite out.

“You’re seventeen. You can’t drive all the way to Georgia, Mika. Don’t be ridiculous. And why would you even want to? Your mother needs you right now.”

“My mother needs AA, anger management, and a damn good therapist. Not me.”

He glares at me, but he reaches over and jerks my keys out of my hand.

“Your mother does need therapy. I blame your adulterous father for that. She was fine until she married him. My sister isn’t the same person she used to be. Now I’m here to help out, and I’m definitely going to get her help. As for her sorry excuse for a daughter and uncaring shithead son, I’m going to raise you two to be respectful while there’s still a chance to right your father’s wrongs.”

“You’re an asshole,” I snarl. “And my father is a good man, so how dare you.”

“Guess that’s why the court awarded custody of you two to your mother.”

“No, that’s the backwoods court system in which the man has less to offer a child than a mother. That and the fact Mom’s overpaid lawyer made him sound like a drunk for having a glass of wine with his meal. Never mind the fact she’s the damn lush. Dad will get custody of us eventually, or we’ll get out of here soon regardless.”

“Well, you’re here for now. Consider yourself grounded indefinitely from your car. Go inside and try to be a good daughter. Your father killed her dreams and ruined their marriage. Not your mother. Your loyalty should be with her.”

“I’m seventeen! Their marriage has nothing to do with me. I’m sick of getting dragged into this like I have to choose a side! Mom fucked around too!”

He climbs out of the vehicle and I curse while following him. It’d be awesome to have an extra set of keys right about now.

“She’s messed up because of him!” he roars. “You will stay here and you will do as you’re told.”

“You’re ruining my life!” I yell, then roll my eyes at myself. “And I hate you for making me say that and turning me into a cliché like the both of them!”

He doesn’t even turn around. It won’t be the last time I try to get out of here and back to Hayden. He’s crazy if he thinks it is.



***



Summer turned into fall, fall turned into winter, and winter turned into spring before I knew it. Escape from Crazy Town hasn’t been possible because of my militant, ever-watchful uncle. But my mother finally has a new boyfriend, and her attention on me has slowly dwindled to nearly nothing.

All they do is make the bedroom wall rattle day in and day out. It’s disgusting and disturbing, and my mother seems a little weirder every day. If she’s not fucking him, she’s sleeping or crying for no real reason at all. And my uncle won’t leave.

But that doesn’t matter today. Today, I’m five minutes from Hayden. I’ve driven straight through, only stopping for gas and pee breaks. Mom is in a sleeping mood, so she hasn’t even noticed I’m missing. I will owe Aidan for forever for having my back on this.

My stomach tightens with anticipation, nervousness, and excitement. It becomes a painful wad in my throat and stomach, growing bigger the closer I get to town. My hands actually shake, and my heartbeat drums in my ears. I can barely even continue driving by the time I reach town, taking the curve that leads to the dirt road I know so well.

Chase hasn’t answered my letters at all—not since summer began. That’s my fault. I left him hanging, but he doesn’t understand, and he’s probably hurting. Chase is easily hurt, because everyone always lets him down. Not me. I’m not going anywhere. Well, I’m going to him, but nowhere else.

The deep craters in the road have been dug out by the rain over the years, never getting repaired, and they try to slow me down. I don’t slow down. I don’t care if I tear my BMW apart on this shitty road as long as I reach Chase.

My neck is red and flushed, along with my chest. I’ve never been so excited and nervous in all my life. My smile is painful when I see his small, pitiful looking house. The house is certainly nothing to smile about. It looks like it should have been condemned five broken windows and four missing floorboards ago, but knowing Chase is close… I can’t contain my smile.

However, the smile slowly starts to fall when I see all the cars in the small yard. There’s nothing but open fields all around the house, so it’s easy to spot the fire in the back field. It’s also easy to hear the roar of music coming from the backyard where there’s apparently a party going on.

It’s Saturday night in Hayden, so they have field parties. Chase always said it wasn’t his style. So why is he having a party at his house?

Parking behind a massive truck, I turn my car off. With shaky hands, I push the door open and walk on unsteady legs toward the origins of the music and laughter. I’ve never been this nervous about seeing him. I’ve also never missed one of our summers before, and I don’t know how well he will have taken my absence.

The party is actually much farther behind the house than I initially realized—off in one of the empty fields. The bonfire is raging, red plastic cups are everywhere, and laughter and dancing is being shared by everyone.

Desperately, my eyes move from face to face, searching for the one guy who will make all these insane knots inside me go away. Each face is vaguely familiar, but none of them are who I want.

Unfortunately, finding what I came to look for proves to be very, very freaking disturbing, considering his tongue is currently being sucked on by a girl who has her legs wrapped around his waist. Her ass is firmly planted on the tailgate of an old truck, one of the many trucks circling the field and acting as seating.

All those knots explode in unison, and my legs wobble, barely holding me up as the first hot tear hits my cheek. Chase laughs against the kiss, even thrusts between her legs like he’s seconds away from screwing her on the tailgate of someone’s truck.

I watch, because I’m sick and need to make sure I’m not delusional as well.

“Chase! Need one?” a guy calls.

It’s definitely him. He looks a little more muscular… a little older. A year and a half has changed him in more ways than just the physical.

Then… Then he pulls out a phone, and my heart crumbles a little more as he holds it to his ear, answering whoever is calling. His tailgate buddy is now shoving her hand down the front of his pants, and he’s smiling down at her as he carries on a conversation over his phone.

His phone…

Chase doesn’t have a phone. Not even a house phone. He doesn’t have cable or internet either, because his family barely skates by on what they have to pay bills. His father is a janitor at a gas station and a functioning alcoholic. His mother… Don’t even get me started on his mother.

But Chase doesn’t have a phone. It’s why we can’t talk when I’m in Montana and he’s here.

He nods and laughs when some guy brings him a red cup, and he puts his phone away.

“Zeke is coming,” he loudly announces to the crowd, and hoots and whistles sound out as though a celebration is underway over the announcement.

The girl wrapped around him starts nibbling on his neck, and he returns his attention to her. It’s like someone is holding a vacuum against my lungs, sucking all the oxygen out of me without mercy. My chest feels like it’s collapsing, and it causes me to bend over a little just to wheeze in some small spurts of air.

It hurts. It really fucking hurts.

More tears prick my eyes as I watch in stunned silence.

“I asked if you’re lost.” A guy steps in front of me, cutting off the sight that has had me frozen to my place for who knows how long.

I look up to stare into dark, concerned eyes. “You okay, girl? You sure don’t look okay,” the guy drawls in his rich, southern accent. I used to love that accent. Now…

My stomach is rolling, tumbling, and growing weaker by the second. I’m going to be sick.

He hisses out a breath, when I double over, and groans sound out all around me when vomit splashes to the ground like a party-foul alert.