After Cadence's examination in the kitchen, Chase wandered over to the open bar, feeling the strong need for a drink. To his surprise it was seeing a lot of action from the guests. He thought that perhaps the Caelan's innocent nature and superior intellect would have precluded alcohol from their diet, but that was not the case at all.
"Can I have a Miller Lite?" Chase asked.
"Em—well, sir we don't have Miller Lite," the bartender apologized. "We do have a fine selection of Belgian ales?"
Chase shook his head in surprise, wondering how they couldn't have regular beer. "Alright, what do you recommend?"
"We have a fine Canadian beer in the Belgian ale style called Le Fin du Monde," the bartender said with an encouraging smile. "The guest of honor himself prefers it," he said, gesturing toward Nathan.
Chase glanced in that direction and mumbled, "Sounds like Nathan alright."
"Pardon me, sir?"
"Yeah, sure, I'll take one," Chase said.
The bartender poured the beer into a short, tulip-shaped glass, and slid it over to Chase.
Avery and Nathan had long since left the dance floor and returned to their table, shortly joined by Cadence and her husband Gavin. Chase watched the four of them from the bar as he sipped the dark beer, wondering if he was crazy for agreeing to watch and protect Avery.
The more time he spent around the Caelans the more he realized that his attraction to her had less to do with her people as a whole and more to do with her as an individual. While their shared innocence and good nature were admirable traits, Avery's ability to connect with him was both stimulating and horrifying at the same time. She had a way of seeing him that made him believe in himself—and sometimes even like himself; two feelings which were wholly new and unfamiliar to him.
Positive emotions were difficult for Chase to entertain. Dr. Chandrian had told him that his fear of abandonment was so strong that he reflexively pushed good feelings away without even realizing it. She said that his brain latched on to cynicism and negativity because it was a safe state of mind. The risk of embracing the positive only to have it taken away would cut him deeply—the sharp edge of that knife having been tempered by years of pain, dating all the way back to his childhood.
An image of the flower from Avery's story formed in his mind—the terrablaze. Her recollection of how she pushed away the rocks to uncover the struggling flower, which should've been dead, reminded Chase of his own life. Maybe he was like the terrablaze. His entire life had been filled with poor choices, like piles of rock on top of it. To kill it. To subdue it. Yet somehow it still thrives.
He was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by a familiar face among those hastily ordering drinks next to him. It was Valentina. He recognized her from the hospital where he freed Pete McClouth. Her dark, curly hair was pulled back with a headband, exposing her high cheekbones and beautiful face. She wore pearl earrings with a bracelet to match, and had on a cream colored mini dress which nicely accented her brown skin.
"Hello," she turned her head toward Chase with a smile as the bartender handed her a glass of wine.
"No doctor's jacket today?" Chase asked.
Her smile faded a bit at his joke. Raising her eyebrows tentatively, she asked, "May I join you?"
"Of course," Chase said, stepping away from the bar to give her room to stand by him.
"I would like to apologize," she said, looking at him sincerely. "I am very sorry for what happened to your friend."
Chase nodded but didn't respond.
