Chase Wilson wants nothing more than to get out of Port Haven. After getting into too much trouble back home, what would be a vacation for most people is nothing more than a punishment for Chase - a summer spent in the godforsaken little beach town...
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MY MOM ALWAYS told me that words could kill. That I always needed to be careful what I said, should I ever unintentionally hurt someone. And she was right, of course. But as Chase put the car in park and pulled the key from the ignition, I realized that if words could kill, then silence must've been death a thousand times over.
"He...what?"
My words lingered like cobwebs in the air — my dad died there.
It was clear that Chase wasn't quite sure what to say. And I understood that. It wasn't a light subject at all — and I'd never explicitly said my dad had died, either. I'd always skidded over the subject and he'd had the better sense to never pry too far into it.
Maybe that's where I had gone wrong. Maybe if I'd just told him, we wouldn't be in this situation, parked on the side of the road with deadly confessions lingering in the air.
When I couldn't bring myself to speak and the silence felt too unbearably heavy, Chase spoke up.
"Harper, I didn't..." His trailed off, but the quiet, nearly inaudible crack in his tone told me enough. He reached towards me, lacing his fingers through mine. "I'm sorry. You said your father was gone, but I didn't think he was..."
Gone.
"I don't like to think about it. Let alone talk about it," I said, offering a sober smile to ease the sympathy in his eyes.
I could tell he wanted to ask me. The curious gleam in his eye, the desperate grip around my hand — he wanted to comfort me. I could tell that much. He just wasn't sure how. And I wasn't, either.
Normally, I was the inexperienced one. Chase was always one step ahead — in relationships, friendships, and even our kiss, I'd hardly known what I was doing.
But this? Neither of us had done this before.
So I whirred the gears in my head. I hadn't known him for very long — hardly over a month now. But I trusted him, I decided, so I bit my lip and adjusted my position in the passenger seat to face him.
"Six years ago," I said, watching as the look of curiosity in his eyes simmered. "I was eleven. My dad loved to surf, and he was...really good at it. He did a lot of competitions when he was younger. That's how him and my mom met."
Chase was listening. His eyes darted between mine, silently encouraging me to continue as he squeezed my hand.
"He went night surfing a lot, too. He'd go out in the evenings and he'd come back around midnight. We'd always be asleep, but he'd come back with fresh donuts from the gas station so we'd have something for breakfast the next morning."
I swallowed back a breath as I paused. I wanted to feel close to him, but everyday he just felt farther and farther away. Even now, telling his story — some parts of me were horribly wary that I was slowly forgetting his voice, and his laugh, the stories he'd tell me. Everything.
"You don't have to tell me," Chase said, and I suddenly realized I'd been silent for the past few moments. "Only if you're ready."
"I am." I offered a reassuring smile. Maybe I wasn't ready to share it with the world, but with him? Always. "Um, so when he went out that night, it wasn't really unusual. There was a storm a few miles off the coast, so he told us he was going to catch some of the waves. And night, it's a really good time for surfing, you know. But, um...when we woke up, he hadn't come back yet."
I paused. I told myself I was fine. I told myself it was okay to talk about it, that it had been six years and I should be able to talk about it by now. I should be over it by now. I should be able to move on. I should be able to talk about it, think about it without feeling that same, wrenching pain over and over and over again.
I couldn't stop the tear that slipped from the corner of my eye, quickly pushing it away with the palm of my hand. I cast a sideways glance at Chase, who seemed to be soberly looking down instead.
Good, then. He hadn't seen it.
"It was...um, it was days later when they found him. They said the current had been strong and he must've hit his head on some rocks, because he..." I paused, biting back my emotions. "Well, it's why I don't like to surf anymore."
Chase looked at me then. He squeezed my hand and I could tell he wanted to say something — but how do you comfort someone in a situation like this? How could any words come anywhere near doing it justice?
"Anyway." I breathed. "I haven't been back there since. I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to overreact, I just — "
"Hey, hey," he interrupted me, placing his hand against the side of my face, his thumb rubbing circles on my cheek. "Don't apologize. I'm sorry. I should've checked with you ahead of time, you know?"
"No, it's not..." I placed my hand over his, feeling his warmth against my palm. "There was no way you could've known. "
I only nodded, grateful for his reassuring touch as I dragged in another shaky breath. That wasn't so bad, then.
Two years ago, even thinking about it made me a wreck. Maybe it was different with Chase, or maybe I was just growing stronger — but it didn't hurt so bad anymore.
"We can find another place for a picnic," he said, after the silence. "We passed a nice park on the way here. What do you think?"
I nodded, smiling at him as he turned back to the wheel and turned on the ignition once again. But even as he put the car in drive and pulled back onto the road, his hand remained looped in mine.
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N O T E
yay I finally updated on time! I've been super busy with classes so unfortunately I haven't even gone through to proofread this. but, only two chapters left! thanks for all the votes and comments <3
