A Forever Kind of Love (9 page)

She’d been eighteen, and so in love with him…when he’d walked away, it had almost killed her.

Don’t leave me, Chase…
the echo of her voice danced in her mind.

Clenching her jaw, she blocked that voice out of her mind, locked those memories away. She didn’t have to go back there, especially not right now. She forced herself to take a slow, deep breath, forced herself not to look away from his eyes, forced herself not to turn away—
run
away.

Part of her wanted to do just that.

An equal part of her wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around his neck and just let him hold her. She knew he would.

Chase wasn’t going to disappear again. Whatever it was that had made him leave all those years ago, it was no longer an issue. He was home to stay and he seemed happy here.

Leaning on him, though, that wasn’t the answer.

“Zoe?”

“I have to go,” she said softly, meeting his eyes. That dark, dark blue stared into hers, unblinking, unwavering.
 

“Why?”

Sighing, she tucked the information from Mitzi into her purse, then tossed her purse onto his desk. Then she rubbed her temple. A familiar, nagging headache brewed behind her eyes and she wanted, desperately, to curl up somewhere dark and quiet and sleep. For a week.

She definitely didn’t want to be having this discussion with Chase.

“Has it occurred to you that it’s fabulously ironic, you asking me that question?” she asked absently.

She glanced at him, watched the dull rush of blood rise up his cheeks.

Part of her felt bad about that, but another part of her, that small, petty part she wasn’t proud of, it felt like dancing.
Good
…
feel guilty. You know how much it hurt when I realized you weren’t coming back?

And deep, deep inside, part of her wanted to hide away from all of that knowledge, but it was bad, bad, and very bad that it mattered at all. If she had ever been able to put him away, if she had ever been able to
not
think of him, maybe she could get over him.

“Fifteen years ago, I asked you not to leave me,” she murmured, staring off into the distance, remembering that day. She could remember it so vividly. In vivid, crystalline clarity—

The way the summer sun beat down on her shoulders as she walked outside when she heard him pull up.

The way he’d smiled at her—a sad, strained kind of smile.

His words.

I’m leaving, Zo.

And she remembered how she’d begged him. Begged him not to leave, begged him to take her with him.

There were other memories, darker memories, memories that she needed to exorcise—demons she needed to remove from her life.

Little slut. Ungrateful slut—

“But you left anyway.” She looked back at him and said, “I don’t blame you. We were just kids and you had to do what you had to do. But you made your choice, and it wasn’t me. Now I’ve got to make a choice, and it’s to get away from here for a while.”

She started to walk away then, but the look in his dark blue eyes, it was like a fist around her heart. Slowly, she went to him, pushed up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his.

It was nothing like kissing him at eighteen.

And yet…it was exactly like it.

Hot, wicked and wild.

His hand came up, caught the back of her head, cradled it.

A harsh, ragged groan escaped him.

It was supposed to be a good-bye kiss, quick, light…easy.

A kiss between friends.

It was anything but. His mouth opened under hers and as his tongue stole into her mouth, she couldn’t help but open for him. He tasted like coffee, cinnamon and Chase…his taste was one she’d never, ever forgot, even after all this time.

Her heart slammed against her ribs and her body cried out, screamed for more.

But before she could give in, she pulled back. “Good-bye, Chase.”

So this is what it feels like, being the one left behind.

Chase could still taste Zoe on his lips, could still feel her pressed against him.

Could still see the bright banner of her hair as she made her way through the store.

But she was as good as gone.

Had she felt like this, he wondered. All those years ago, when he left Warren without much more than a backward glance.

Had she felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest?

Shaken, empty, he sank into the chair behind his desk and covered his face with his hands.

He wanted to chase after her, but he couldn’t.

There had been something in her eyes.

Despite the pain ripping through him, he had seen something in her eyes as she told him.

She needed to do this.

And she needed to do it
without
him.

He had to let her go.

Reaching inside his shirt, he closed his hand around the Z he still wore.

His bleeding, battered heart told him to get up, run after her.

But he just sat there, holding that golden charm in his hand and telling himself,
I have to do this…for her.

From the hallway, Zoe stared at her mother.

So far, Grace hadn’t noticed her.

She was playing Scrabble with another one of the residents.

“How has she been?”

The nurse smiled at her and said, “Pretty good, actually. The doctor adjusted her medicine, like we discussed. I think it’s doing her a world of good.”

Zoe nodded.

Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out the phone numbers. “I’ve already spoken to the doctor and those who head up her care plan. But just in case, can you make sure these numbers are where they need to be? It’s who to contact if there’s a problem. James will know how to get in contact with me if there’s an emergency, but for standard things, he’s the one you’ll need to contact until I’m back in town. I’m taking some time, going away for a while.”

She’d thought she’d feel guilty.

But as she stood there, watching her mom, she realized she didn’t.

Her mother actually looked happier now than she had in quite a while, and Zoe knew what would happen if she went over there. It would anger the other woman, distress her.
 

They weren’t any good for each other. They never really had been.

Grace was happier not knowing her daughter than she ever had been knowing her.

And Zoe was okay with that.

Chapter Eight

One month turned into two.

Two into four.

Four into six.

Each day, Chase swore he was dying a little more inside. Each day, he gave up a little more hope that she’d come back soon.

He knew she called.

His dad talked to her—his dad was acting as her mother’s guardian while Zoe was out of town.

She called to ask about her mom, but she never called to talk to him.

She called to check on her store—he knew this, because he’d asked Kelly and Kelly was more than happy to tell him that Zoe had spent a month in Alaska. Then she’d gone to the beach. Then Europe. All over the frickin’ globe, it seemed.
 

Kelly had postcards.

Chase had the memory of one kiss, and the necklace she’d given him on prom night more sixteen years ago now, and a heart that was so beyond broken, it wasn’t even funny.

Memories, a necklace…and a hope that was so faint, it couldn’t even be called a hope any more.

She wasn’t going to come back here.

And even if she did, it wouldn’t be because of him, he suspected. He’d been fooling himself. Yeah, he might still love her, but he’d killed whatever love she’d had for him years ago…sixteen years ago.
 

Pushing all of that aside, he stared into his dad’s darkened attic and tried to figure out why he’d agreed to this.

Because his dad had asked, that was why.

His dad wanted him to string up the Christmas lights.

So that’s what he was doing.

If he could ever find the stupid things.

Reaching up, he tugged on the chain for the light and began the tedious task of searching for the right box.

It was while he was hunting for the
right
box that he found the wrong one.

A box full of dusty books, envelopes and junk, precariously perched, just waiting to fall. On one end, it was marked,
Roger’s office
and he winced as it went tumbling. Biting back a sigh, he crouched down and starting putting everything back in, only to realize it was going to be a nightmare to get things organized.

A lot of papers had fallen out of place and he had no clue what went where, no idea if any of it was important. Muttering under his breath, he started shuffling the pages into order and that was when the pictures fell out.

They were old.

But there was no mistaking Zoe’s battered face. In the pictures of her face, even with her eyes averted, he could see her shame.

What in the hell…

A muscle jerked in his jaw.

What in the holy fucking hell…

Flipping them over, he stared at the date.

All the breath was knocked right out of him.

He knew that date—knew it well.
 

It was the day after he’d walked out of Zoe Childers—now Zoe Kirkbride’s—life.

What in the hell…

I want you to live.

I want you happy.

The cold seeped through the knees of her jeans as she crouched on the ground. There was a brightly colored autumn bouquet on Roger’s grave—from Bianca, Zoe supposed.

“Hey, baby,” she murmured, reaching out and touching the gravestone.

She’d been gone for six months.

Roger had been gone for seven.

It seemed like yesterday, and at the same time, it seemed like a lifetime.

In those months that she’d been gone, one thing had become painfully clear.

She loved Chase.

Deep inside, she had never
stopped
loving him.

Oh, she loved Roger…but the love she had for the two men was as drastically different as the two men were. Roger had been her rock—steady, abiding and so strong and true. She knew that she could have lived happily with him—had
wanted
just that, but life had kicked them both in the teeth, robbed them of that.

Chase, though…he was her heart.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

There was no answer—none that she could hear, but in her heart, she felt something. A warmth. A lightness.

There was also guilt, but that was her own doing, she knew.

The heart didn’t exactly work in ways that could be explained, she guessed. Part of her had always loved Chase, and maybe part of her had always waited, had always hoped he’d come back. Not that she ever would have done anything, not if Roger was still here.

“I love you,” she said, tears blurring her eyes. “I’m always going to love you.”

Again, inside, in a way she couldn’t explain, she felt something. A warmth…a gentle touch. Like he was with her.

It’s okay, gorgeous…go on. Be with him. We had our time together
.

Tears burned out of her eyes and she sighed, wiped them away. “It doesn’t feel like it was long enough.”

Then, slowly, she brushed her fingers over his name, traced it with her fingers. Rising, she bent over and pressed her lips to the marble headstone. “But good things never last as long as we’d like, I guess.”

Swallowing the knot in her throat, she said, “Thank you.” Memories rushed up and she touched her face, remembered the bruises, how battered and broken she’d been when Roger had come into her life.

Chase had left her.

Her mother had thrown her out.

She had felt…worthless. Unloved, and unwanted by anybody and everybody.

Roger changed that—Roger changed everything.
 

Roger had picked her up. Cared for her, made her realize she
could
be loved. That she was loved. He’d given her strength, had given her his love. Everything.

And even now, he still gave.

She could all but feel him smiling down on her.

You were always stronger than you thought, Zo
.

No. She hadn’t been. Not until he’d shown her how to be strong.

“Thank you…for everything, baby.”

Then, tucking her hands inside her pockets, she turned away.

She had a man to hunt down.

The knock at his door was unwelcome, to say the least.

He was busy wallowing, thanks.

Lifting the beer to his lips, he ignored the first knock.

When the second came, he called out, “Go away.”

“Chase?”

He was hallucinating.

Because that sounded way too much like Zoe.

Shooting up out of the chair, he all but vaulted across the room, jerking open the door so fast, it was a miracle he didn’t pull it off the hinges.

Zoe stood there, her big blue eyes wide, her mouth parted in surprise.

Then her gaze lowered.

She reached up, her fingers trembling.

Frozen, he stood there as she brushed her finger against the charm that lay against his bare chest. “You still have it,” she murmured.

A dull red flush crept up his cheeks. Fuck, his shirt. He’d taken it off when he’d worked the bag earlier and forgot to put it back on. Reaching up, he closed a protective hand around it. “Hey.” His mind was blank. Unable to think, barely able to do more than breathe, he just stared at her.

Tell her to leave. Come back later,
his common sense said. His mood was so toxic, so volatile, he was hazardous to his own health right now. Zoe…she needed softer, gentler handling. She didn’t need his fury, or his wrath, and that was all he had right now.

He needed answers, but he needed to get a grip, needed to…

“Who the fuck hurt you?” he demanded harshly.

To her credit, she didn’t pretend not to understand.

Nor did she look away.

Her eyes stayed on his and she lifted a brow calmly. “How did you hear about that?”

Sneering, he whirled around. Leaving the door open, he stormed over to the coffee table and grabbed the pictures. He showed them to her and again, just like earlier, seeing them was a vicious, painful punch to the gut. “Who did this?” he asked. “Who did that to you?”