Page 64 of Beneath the Stars (Sugarlake 1)

This time, I do take his hand.

We settle in, lying on the afghan as we stare at the sky. It’s clear tonight. Peaceful. The stars shine down, tormenting me with their sparkle. The space between us is charged like it always is when we’re around each other.

His voice pierces the silence. “Do you want to talk about it?… Your dad.”

Yes. “Not really.”

He nods. “I figured as much. Sometimes talking fucking sucks.”

“You can say that again.”

“You know, I used to come out here all the time. Usually after leaving you in the middle of the night.” He glances my way. “I’d lay down just like we are now and think about all the ways I wasn’t good enough. All the ways I had failed the people in my life.” His voice is heavy. “All the ways I was scared of failing you.”

I close my eyes, willing the burn away. “I thought you said talkin’ sucks.”

“I did. And it does. But I’ve learned it also helps.”

“You talkin’?” The corner of my mouth lifts. “I don’t believe it.”

He chuckles. “Is that really so surprising?”

“Uhh… yeah. It is, actually.”

He hums, his hands linking over his stomach. “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

“He wasn’t always this bad, you know?” I blurt.

Chase’s head turns toward me, his hazel eyes piercing. “Your dad?”

I nod, sucking my teeth. “Yeah. At first, it was just a way for him to cope. Losin’ Mama was hard on him, you know? He hasn’t been able to learn how to live without her. By the time I realized it was out of control, he was already gone. Lost at the bottom of a bottle.”

Chase doesn’t say anything, and I’m grateful for it. I don’t need someone telling me how to feel or trying to justify Daddy’s actions. But it’s cathartic, speaking my truths out loud.

“Stupid me, huh?” I huff out a laugh. “I just thought…” I shake my head, not able to speak around the lump in my throat.

“You thought you’d be enough?” he whispers.

“Yeah.” My voice cracks, a tear slipping down the side of my face. “I thought I’d be enough.”

He reaches over, hesitating before he links our hands. Warmth spreads through me, comforting all of my broken pieces. And at least for tonight, that’s enough.

29

Chase

Today, I woke up feeling hopeful. It’s not an emotion I’m used to having, but it’s there, so I’m holding on tight. If someone had told me a few months back I’d have Goldi in my life again, I would have laughed in disbelief, and tried to ignore the throb in my chest hearing her name caused. But now I’m here, and so is she. And while I don’t have any grandiose ideas about where our relationship can go, I can’t help but feel like maybe there’s a reason beyond Sam’s retirement that I’m back.

I’m a little surprised Sam hasn’t told me about Mr. Carson’s drinking. It makes me wonder if he knows—if anyone around here really knows, or if Goldi has been carrying the weight of her father’s problems all on her own.

This is what was on my mind when I went to sleep. This is what’s still on my mind as I walk into work. It’s our first official day back on the Tiny Dancers project. Demo day. I love demo days. And I’m fucking giddy knowing I’ll see Goldi again. Life is brighter with her in it. Colors more vibrant, birds fucking sing and all that shit. I had forgotten what it was like to live a technicolor life.

I stopped by the coffee shop and picked up some caffeine for the crew. Impulsively, I got some for Goldi, too. I walk to the back office with her coffee in hand. The office door is propped, so I nudge it open and peer inside. Goldi’s standing in the far corner, bent over what looks like a laptop bag, digging around for something in one of the pockets. My eyes become greedy as they take in the round of her hips and the curve of her ass in that spectacularly tight skirt she’s wearing. I know I should look away, but damn. I don’t think I can. I start to grow hard, which is a problem since I don’t have a free hand to adjust myself.

I try to think of anything other than how fucking edible she is. The inside of my cheek stings from where I’m biting it, but I need the pain to keep myself from going over and demanding she sit on my face. I shift on my feet, clearing my throat to get her attention.

She stands straight and looks over her shoulder. “Oh! Chase, hi.” She gives a hint of a smile and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Hey, Go-Alina. I heard a rumor you were up late last night. Thought you might need some coffee.” I wink, then mentally bitch-slap myself for doing it. A wink, you fucking douchebag?

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