Every Girl Wants A Moon

Chapter 12: Beneath the Surface

The ride home was quiet at first, the weight of the evening settling between us. Chase's grip on the steering wheel was firm, his knuckles faintly tense as he stole quick glances at me. I sat with my hands clasped in my lap, staring out the window, still feeling the ghost of the drunk man's grip on my wrist. I hated that it lingered. I hated that I still felt small even after Chase had made sure I was safe.

"You okay?" His voice broke through my thoughts, deep and warm, filled with concern.

I turned my head to look at him, hesitating for a moment before I nodded. "Yeah. Just... processing, I guess."

Chase didn't look convinced. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel as if debating something before he asked, "Do you want me to take you home?"

The question sat heavy between us. Home. Back to my quiet apartment. Back to an empty space where my thoughts would take over and twist into something darker. I swallowed hard. I wasn't ready to be alone.

"...No," I admitted softly, barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be alone right now."

Chase's gaze flickered to me, understanding dawning in his expression. He nodded once, no hesitation. "Then you won't be."

His certainty was grounding, like it wasn't even a question in his mind. Like it was a given that if I didn't want to be alone, he'd make sure I wasn't.

After a beat, he exhaled through his nose, as if making a decision. "Alright. Let's get some food first."

I frowned slightly, and Chase must have caught my confusion because he glanced over with an amused tilt of his lips. "You didn't eat back there," he pointed out. "You were too busy worrying about things that weren't worth worrying about." His voice was light but firm, his eyes flicking to mine meaningfully.

I looked down, embarrassed. He wasn't wrong.

"So, takeout," he continued, acting as if it was already decided. "Burgers okay?"

I nodded, and that was all it took. Chase turned the car in the direction of one of his favorite spots.

A few minutes later, we were parked outside a small, dimly lit burger joint, the smell of fresh fries filling the car as Chase placed the bag between us. He handed me my food without a word, then reached for his own, the quiet between us comfortable as we started eating.

I wasn't even sure how much time passed before he spoke again.

"Tell me something about you," he said, glancing at me between bites.

I blinked. "Like what?"

"Anything." He shrugged. "Something I don't know yet."

I hesitated, my fingers toying with the wrapper of my burger. It was easy to let him do all the talking, easy to keep my past tucked away where it was safe. But Chase had been nothing but patient with me, and a part of me wanted to let him in, even if it was just a little.

I exhaled softly, gathering my thoughts. "My parents died when I was young."

Chase stilled. He set his burger down carefully and turned his full attention to me. "I'm sorry, baby," he murmured, his voice so gentle it almost made my chest ache.

I swallowed. "I was thirteen." My voice was quiet, but he heard me. "It was a car accident."

His brows pulled together slightly, but he didn't interrupt. He let me set the pace.

"I don't remember much," I admitted. "The sound of my mom's laugh. My dad's cologne. My most vivid memory is of them dancing. I loved that, even more when they caught me peeping at them, and pulling me in to join them. I used to think... if I tried hard enough, I could imagine their arms around me and then I'll feel safe and secure again."