Page 45 of Beneath the Stars (Sugarlake 1)

“Oh, okay then.” I look off to the side, biting the inside of my cheek. I really need to get my butt in gear—Patty will be fit to be tied and ready to rake me over the coals. It’s hard though when Logan keeps looking at me like I’m his next meal. Although my heart doesn’t react to his perusal, my body sure does. So, I give him my number and make plans to meet up that night. Sometimes a girl’s just gotta get a little relief.

A few days later, I’m with Becca for our Saturday brunch. It’s nice having her back in town. After she graduated from FCU, she came home, accepting a social work position at Sugarlake High. She spent all her life complaining about feeling trapped. Swore up and down she would never step foot in Sugarlake again, but here she is. I think facing the big, bad world scares her more. Better the devil you know.

She and Jax started forcing these “friend dates” on me when they were fed up with my self-imposed solitude. Normally Jax would be meeting us, but he’s in California working with some fancy producer who wants his cars for a new indie production. I’m so proud of him. It’s what he’s been working toward since I’ve known him. But I can’t help feeling like everyone’s life is growing and changing while mine moves backward.

I’m filling Becca in on my newfound “friendship” with Logan when my phone rings. Eli’s name flashes. Dang. I forgot today was our monthly call. I chew on my bottom lip, deliberating whether to answer or to ignore him and just order another mimosa. The mimosa wins.

“Who was that?” Becca asks with a mouthful of food.

“Eli.”

She fidgets. “Oh. How is your brother, anyway?”

I shrug. “He’s good as far as I know. Not that he tells me much. He won’t stop sendin’ money even though I tell him I don’t want it.”

Truthfully, every time we talk it turns into an argument. He refuses to stop writing checks every month, and I refuse to let Daddy pour every dime of it down his throat.

“You should just take the money, Lee. He’s clearly tryin’ to help.”

“He could help by comin’ home,” I snap.

“Have you even asked him why he won’t?”

My eyes narrow, irritation tightening my throat. It almost sounds like she’s defending him.

She throws her hands up. “I’m just sayin’. You don’t seem to know much about how things have been for him. Maybe you should take the time to ask.”

I huff out a breath, crossing my arms. “Please. He’s pretty serious with some girl down there. Seems happy. What else is there to know?”

The sound of Becca’s fork clattering onto her plate is jarring. She recovers fast, clearing her throat and picking it back up. Before I can ask what’s wrong, she’s on to the next subject like nothing ever happened.

I spend the rest of brunch listening to her telling stories of her college friends. My heart squeezes at the thought I won’t ever experience the kind of life she’s lived. Even if I wanted to, I can’t leave Daddy. I’m all he’s got.

Daddy’s what I like to call a cycler. Some days he’s quiet. Ignoring me, but normal. As normal as he can be with a gallon of whiskey in his belly. Other times he gets downright mean, taking out his anger with God on everyone around him. Once the dust settles—the lacerations barely healed from his cutting words, he’s back to the sullen and distant man I’ve come to know. Those are the days I ache for his words. I pray to hear that he doesn’t mean it when he says he wishes I’d disappear like Eli. Or that it’s my fault Mama’s dead.

I know it’s the drink talking, not him. I have to hold on to the belief my real daddy is still in there somewhere. But, dang, it’s exhausting. He’s got cement shoes dragging him under, and I’m the only one left to hold his hand, desperately trying to keep his head above water.

“Hey, Mama.”

There’s no breeze today, the Tennessee heat sweltering on my face as I lay in the summer sun.

“I met a guy. He’s nice, I think you’d like him. We’re not datin’ or anything. I’m not interested in that. But he serves a purpose, and makes me feel a little less lonely when we’re together.”

I sit up, throwing my hair into a ponytail, the wispies sticking to the sweat on the back of my neck. “I’m sure you’re turnin’ over in your grave with that information. But it is what it is. I’d like to think if it were a different world, I could open up and let him in. But…” I sigh, looking down at the grass, picking a blade and twisting it between my fingers. “The truth is, my heart’s still taken by that broody boy with the scar through his eyebrow and the dimples in his cheeks.”

It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud. The fact that Chase still has a hold on me after all these years. I hate him for what he’s done to me. But I’d be a liar if I said my heart still didn’t beat for every piece of his damaged soul.

“Anyway. I’m not sure if you have any pull up there, but if you do…”

21

Chase

Twenty-Eight Years Old

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.”

The voices repeat the phrase in unison, echoing off the walls in the basement of the church. I let the silence linger for a few moments, allowing the words to resonate before I speak. “Thanks, everyone for coming tonight. Whether you shared or just listened. See you next week, same time.”

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