Page 44 of Chase Our Forever

“Dean,” I repeat, leaning over the center console to try and get his attention. He stares blankly ahead.

I let the silence hang between us for a moment before he finally looks at me. When he does, I see sadness and worry etched into the handsome features of his face. “She died because of the rain,” he croaks, his words taking me by surprise.

“What?” The word comes out of my mouth before I can even think through an appropriate response. If the rain wasn’t smashing the windshield, he’d be able to hear the intense beat of my heart at his words.

“The other car was driving recklessly in the rain. Going way too fast along the narrow mountain roads. They went into Selena’s lane, but because of the wet asphalt, there was nothing they could do to stop the cars from colliding. He walked away with a broken arm…and Selena…” He takes a shaky breath in. I’ve never seen so much emotion on his face, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know the right thing to say.

So I don’t say anything. I reach across the center console and place my hand on his cheek. He leans into it, accepting the physical contact as comfort.

He stares at me for a few moments. It feels like so many things are said in this moment, and yet nothing is said at all. I’ve never felt more confused in my life. The way he stares at me, there’s so much pain in his eyes, but there’s also something else. Something I can’t read, but it makes my heart beat so fast it might just beat right out of my chest.

“It wasn’t even supposed to rain that day.” I hate the sadness in his voice. It’s so raw and broken that it breaks me right along with him.

If only I knew how to fix the hurt man staring back at me.If only I didn’t have feelings for him that I know will end up breaking me in the end.

“You couldn’t have known,” I whisper. I wish I could make my voice stronger or find better ways to comfort him, but I don’t think anything in the world can take this guilt and grief off his shoulders. All I can do is try and shoulder it with him—if he’ll let me.

He sighs as his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, the mask he puts in place to protect himself from the world is back. He doesn’t remove my touch. He shocks me by placing his hand on top of mine and pressing my palm even harder into his cheek.

“I can’t think about the what-ifs about that day. I’ve tried, and they slowly killed me over time. I’m trying not to do that anymore. But I just needed you to know why I couldn’t let you drive today. I just needed to be in control of keeping you safe, okay?”

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. His “okay” comes out hoarse and like a plea. I’d agree to anything just to hear the pain disappear from his voice.

His fingers squeeze my hand before he drops his hand to his lap. I take that as my cue to pull my hand away. He lets out a controlled breath as he pulls himself together. “Thank you. For listening. For being here. For understanding.”

I scan his profile, trying to gauge how he’s doing just by the small, little nuances of his demeanor. It’s hard to tell—he’s locked his emotions back up and put on a brave face.

I wish he knew he didn’t have to always be brave with me. He can be hurt and broken and scared and vulnerable and anything he wants to be. It won’t make me leave. It won’t change my mind about him.

“Of course,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. Nothing I’ve said since he put the truck in park has probably been right, but I try not to second-guess my words. I know my feelings for him run deeper than they should, but despite that, he and I have an undeniable connection. On my side, it’s feelings that surpass friendship and how one should feel about their boss, but for him, I’m sure it’s just finally having someone in his life who can listen and sit with his grief without sharing in it.

The raindrops get a little lighter against the windshield as we sit in the quiet for a few moments. I don’t say anything, letting him take as long as he needs to gather himself.

Finally, he looks back at me, and the rawness and vulnerability are gone from his features. I can’t tell if the half-smile he gives me is real or fake. “Let’s get inside and get you some winter clothes. And, most importantly, a damn coat.”

27

DEAN

“I can’t believeall of this,” Liv says under her breath, grabbing another item of clothing from the clothing rack and adding it to the pile of clothes in my hands.

“Think some of these will work?” I ask her, curious to know her answer. If she adds much more to the stack in my hands, I’ll have to drop them off in the dressing room before everything overflows.

Liv looks at me from over the rack. I love the brightness in her eyes. How wide her smile is as she nods. “Yes,” she responds. She pulls another piece off the rack and inspects it. “I think so much of this will work. I can’t believe they have so many items with tags still on in my size. It’s like I’ve hit the jackpot.”

Ms. Beth laughs from her stool at the register. I glare at her for a moment, hoping Liv doesn’t notice, before looking back at her.

“Great,” I respond, my voice a little tight.

“I never thought such a small town would have such great thrift shopping,” she notes, placing yet another shirt in the pile in my hands. Her eyes meet mine before giving me an apologetic smile. “No offense.”

I can’t help but laugh. “None taken.”

Her shoulders drop a little with her sigh of relief. “I just thought it’d be hard to find unworn clothes. I was ready to find some vintage, well-loved pieces. Never did I expect so much new.”

“Really was your lucky day,” Ms. Beth pipes up from her counter again. I shoot another look her way. Normally, Ms. Beth minds her own business. I don’t know why she feels the need to make little comments.

Liv adds a pair of jeans and a jacket to my pile. “Okay, I think I’m ready to try some things on.”

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