Matt had been in his home less than twenty-four hours and Chase was already wanting to climb the walls or punch something.
Matt’s Yoda routine last night, along with just being there, had set him on edge. Chase liked his space, needed his privacy. In a town of roughly 36,000 people, he often straddled the line between public and private. On one hand, Del Rio was just big enough to afford some modicum of anonymity. On the other, it was just small enough that everyone knew who he was, even if they didn’t actually know him.
Thus, the need for a safe haven.
He read over his emails again. A local reporter had reached out to him regarding the uptick in commercial real estate sales and construction the area was currently experiencing. He suspected the reporter probably wanted the scoop on Matt more.
For such a private guy, he sometimes wondered how his name ended up in the news so often. Then he would remember that he’d inadvertently caused that to happen. As the city’s top commercial real estate broker—not to mention his relation to Matt—it wasn’t a huge shocker that people would reach out to him or that his name would appear in newsprint. He was well-respected by town leaders and local businessmen, sponsored the local Little League teams and held a pitching clinic in the fall.
Living life between the seams? Ha! Whatever the fuck that meant.
He decided a response could wait until tomorrow, and shut down his computer. Knowing he probably needed to leave the office but not yet willing to go back home and hang out with his brother and endure yet another Yoda routine, Chase debated calling Owen or Jenn to meet up for a quick beer.
He’d pulled up Owen’s number and was in the process of texting him when he realized it was Friday night. Odds were Owen had a date and Jenn was probably doing…something. Knitting or reading or making lesson plans, since Chase couldn’t remember the last time Jenn had gone on a date. Now there was someone who lived life between the seams, or whatever you wanted to call it. Jenn spent her Friday nights knitting.
Knitting!
Whereas he spent his…hanging out with a dude in a bar, having one beer and then going home and spending the rest of the time with his damned dog.
Screw Matt and his sudden I-care-about-you routine.
Feeling adrift, he set the alarm and locked up, climbed into his truck, started it and stared at the front of the office building. Without really thinking about it, Chase threw the truck into motion.
Thirty minutes later, lost in a fog of exhaustion and frustration, he realized he’d inadvertently driven to Nellie Westwood’s neighborhood. He shook his head and groaned. What the hell was he doing to himself?
He slowed as he passed Nellie’s house, debated stopping and ringing the doorbell. He hadn’t seen or talked to Jo since the night of Matt’s injury. Oh, he’d thought about her, probably far more than any man sitting by his brother in ICU should have, but he hadn’t spoken to her.
Not having her phone number had helped with that, he thought wryly. Then again, it wasn’t like he couldn’t have gotten it from Jenn.
Instead of stopping, though, he continued down the street, feeling slightly angry at the clawing need that hadn’t gone away ever since he’d run into her that night at Walmart. Had that really been almost a month ago? In some ways, it seemed like years, and in others like it had been yesterday.
Chase continued to drive slowly down the street, watching for children and toys as the late evening sun cast deceptive shadows over the neighborhood. He turned a corner, and another, circling back while deliberately avoiding Nellie’s, houses now on his left and a small park on his right.
That’s when he saw her, standing on the edge of the grass, just inside the park, bent at the waist, her body shaking as if she couldn’t get enough air.
He veered to the curb, slammed the truck into PARK before killing the engine, grabbing the keys and
Matt’s Yoda routine last night, along with just being there, had set him on edge. Chase liked his space, needed his privacy. In a town of roughly 36,000 people, he often straddled the line between public and private. On one hand, Del Rio was just big enough to afford some modicum of anonymity. On the other, it was just small enough that everyone knew who he was, even if they didn’t actually know him.
Thus, the need for a safe haven.
He read over his emails again. A local reporter had reached out to him regarding the uptick in commercial real estate sales and construction the area was currently experiencing. He suspected the reporter probably wanted the scoop on Matt more.
For such a private guy, he sometimes wondered how his name ended up in the news so often. Then he would remember that he’d inadvertently caused that to happen. As the city’s top commercial real estate broker—not to mention his relation to Matt—it wasn’t a huge shocker that people would reach out to him or that his name would appear in newsprint. He was well-respected by town leaders and local businessmen, sponsored the local Little League teams and held a pitching clinic in the fall.
Living life between the seams? Ha! Whatever the fuck that meant.
He decided a response could wait until tomorrow, and shut down his computer. Knowing he probably needed to leave the office but not yet willing to go back home and hang out with his brother and endure yet another Yoda routine, Chase debated calling Owen or Jenn to meet up for a quick beer.
He’d pulled up Owen’s number and was in the process of texting him when he realized it was Friday night. Odds were Owen had a date and Jenn was probably doing…something. Knitting or reading or making lesson plans, since Chase couldn’t remember the last time Jenn had gone on a date. Now there was someone who lived life between the seams, or whatever you wanted to call it. Jenn spent her Friday nights knitting.
Knitting!
Whereas he spent his…hanging out with a dude in a bar, having one beer and then going home and spending the rest of the time with his damned dog.
Screw Matt and his sudden I-care-about-you routine.
Feeling adrift, he set the alarm and locked up, climbed into his truck, started it and stared at the front of the office building. Without really thinking about it, Chase threw the truck into motion.
Thirty minutes later, lost in a fog of exhaustion and frustration, he realized he’d inadvertently driven to Nellie Westwood’s neighborhood. He shook his head and groaned. What the hell was he doing to himself?
He slowed as he passed Nellie’s house, debated stopping and ringing the doorbell. He hadn’t seen or talked to Jo since the night of Matt’s injury. Oh, he’d thought about her, probably far more than any man sitting by his brother in ICU should have, but he hadn’t spoken to her.
Not having her phone number had helped with that, he thought wryly. Then again, it wasn’t like he couldn’t have gotten it from Jenn.
Instead of stopping, though, he continued down the street, feeling slightly angry at the clawing need that hadn’t gone away ever since he’d run into her that night at Walmart. Had that really been almost a month ago? In some ways, it seemed like years, and in others like it had been yesterday.
Chase continued to drive slowly down the street, watching for children and toys as the late evening sun cast deceptive shadows over the neighborhood. He turned a corner, and another, circling back while deliberately avoiding Nellie’s, houses now on his left and a small park on his right.
That’s when he saw her, standing on the edge of the grass, just inside the park, bent at the waist, her body shaking as if she couldn’t get enough air.
He veered to the curb, slammed the truck into PARK before killing the engine, grabbing the keys and
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