Pieces of Summer

Sick of avoiding this, I finally blurt it out. “Because I want to be here. Because this is my father’s house. Because I needed closure. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hayden is my home,” he growls. “What fucking closure?”

“You hate this place,” I snap, ignoring his question. “You always swore you’d get out of here if your mother ever died. Even said we’d sell the bowling alley and move away… Shit,” I grumble, hearing how cold that sounds about his mother and realizing I’m back to saying we. That’s not healthy.

“I left and decided Hayden was the only place that made sense for someone like me. Now tell me what closure you want.”

I look at him incredulously. “You really need your ego to be fueled that badly? Us, Chase. I needed closure on us. That’s what. I never got it. Instead, I got crushed. I was devastated. I can’t seem to move forward, and I blame you. Happy? Feel good about yourself? Good. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

He looks confused for a second, as though he was expecting another answer. His eyes soften, and he takes a step toward me. I practically leap backwards, and his look hardens again.

“You’re scared of me?” he asks quietly, sounding pissed. “You think I’d hurt you?”

I laugh humorlessly. “I know you’d hurt me. You already did.”

All emotion leaves his face and he takes a step back. “I broke things off because you deserved a hell of a lot better than I could give you, Mika. You know it. I know it. Even your father knew it. I didn’t want you to end up like your mother.”

If he only knew how much I hated to even hear anything about my mother…

“Good for you. Problem is, you forgot to actually end it. You just went cold and silent on me, never giving me any semblance of closure. And now I’m here in Hayden to get what I need. Get over it. Deal with it like a fucking adult. Leave. Me. Alone.”

“Are you sick?” he asks me softly, surprising me.

Hot flush creeps up my body for the second time today.

“You’re sick, Mika. Your brain isn’t functioning the way it used to. We have to retrain the way your mind works if you ever plan on having a normal life again. We can help you. Just trust us. Talk to us, Mika. Let us help you. Let us find out exactly what is going on.”

“Please don’t. I just want to go home. Where’s Aidan? I’m not sick. I’m not sick. It’s not like that. Please don’t make me keep doing this.”

“Yes, it is like that, Mika. Look at what you’ve done to yourself. Let us help you.”

Shaking out of my thoughts, I turn my back on him while tugging at my shirt, making sure my stomach is covered. “Who told you?” I whisper quietly.

The temperature in the room seems to plummet.

“It’s true then? You’re fucking dying and you weren’t even going to tell me?”

Confusion hits me hard, and I turn around to face him. It’s then I realize how that conversation this morning must have sounded to Whit. That’s who must have sent him over here. It makes sense now.

It’s sad that I’m relieved she thought I was dying instead of figuring out the truth.

“Not dying, Chase. I’m not that sick. Please leave now.”

“How fucking sick are you?”

Sick enough to forget how easy it is to be broken when you’re standing this close. Sick enough to forget the very set-in-stone rules I have.

“I’ll be fine. Promise. Just a cold,” I lie, smiling bitterly.

“Bullshit. She said you and Aidan were talking about your health. Whit doesn’t just freak out for any reason.”

“Whit is under the impression you and I are something we’re not. She’s… There aren’t words enough to describe how big her heart is. You really fucked things up with her. Then again, that seems to be your specialty—destroying women and spitting on the pieces you leave behind.”

That coldness replaces his anger, and he nods slowly.

“Got it. So you’re not dying? You’re not sick?”

“Nope. Feel free to hate me—even though you have no reason to—without that nagging feeling of guilt for hating a dying woman. I’m just fine, Chase. Just fucking fine.”