But it’s not me.
No, it wouldn’t be him.
Then I threw the covers back, my feet hit the floor, and I went back to the other room, grabbed my notepad, and started to write lyrics I didn’t want to write.
Somebody’s gonna hold you tight.
But it’s not me.
3
Chasin sat in his office, his phone to his ear, clicking through junk mail, half-listening to his mother yammering on about him not visiting when he’d driven through Ohio two days before. His first mistake was answering his phone without checking who was calling; the second was mentioning to his dad he’d been in Ohio picking up a bond skip.
The first because he avoided speaking to his mother the best he could, the second because his father was weak and cowed to his wife under the slightest pressure. Part of why he avoided both of them. His mother he could barely stomach, his father he couldn’t respect.
Nancy Murray was a lying, scheming, cheating bitch. Some of Chasin’s first memories were of men who were not his father exiting the bitch’s bedroom. A room she’d shared with her husband yet defiled in the grossest of ways.
“It’s been a year, Chasin. A solid year since you’ve been by to see us.”
“Yep,” he returned.
It had actually been fifteen months since he’d had to look at her face, but he wasn’t going to correct her. And during his last visit, seeing his father bow down to the bitch, had been the last straw. He’d decided then and there, his once-a-year visits would be pushed to once every five years.
Chasin couldn’t fathom why people cheated. To him it was simple. If your partner wasn’t giving you what you needed—leave. If you no longer loved the other person—leave. If you felt like fresh and new or you got off on the chase—leave.
The fuck of it was, his father knew his mom banged a variety of men. That shit had started early on in their marriage. He knew because his parents got married because his mother was knocked up with him and that was two months after they’d done the deed—on their first date. The first time Chasin saw a man who was not his father in the house he was maybe three. Nancy was a bitch who fucked whoever she wanted, not caring her toddler was in the living room unattended watching TV.
As a grown man, Chasin got that shit even less than he did when he was a teenager and heard the fights. His mother might’ve allowed anyone with a dick into her bedroom, but her taste in men sucked if all they were giving her was the ten minutes they needed to get off and get out. Which meant she wasn’t getting hers. The very thought made his stomach roil, but there it was. His mother was a skank who got nothing in return for spreading her legs. And Chasin knew it because as he’d gotten older, maybe six or seven, he knew those men were only in his mother’s room ten, fifteen minutes, tops.
They’d come out, head to the door, not sparing him a glance. A few minutes later, his mother would come out and remind him not to tell his father that she’d had company.
Company.
Sick bitch.
As confused as Chasin had been when he was a child, he’d known one thing for certain, he would never have a wife that cheated on him. In high school, if a girl even turned her eye to another guy she was gone. He’d also made it abundantly clear to the one long-term girlfriend he’d had that infidelity was a deal breaker and that break would be ruthless. Molly hadn’t heeded his warning and a year and half into what he’d thought was a solid relationship he’d found out she was “friends” with a guy from work. That friendship entailed flirty texts back and forth and drinks after work. No amount of begging or apologizing had swayed Chasin’s decisions to cut her loose. After that, he kept every encounter casual, no promises, no commitment, no worries about finding out his woman was spreading her legs or giving her time to someone that was not him.
“We’re not getting any younger, Chasin,” Nancy snapped. “You need to visit more.”
“Not gonna happen.”
Chasin closed the lid of his laptop and glanced out the large window. His view was partially obstructed but he could see part of the big, green, cast iron fountain. Kent County was not a place Chasin had ever thought he’d live. Hadn’t ever heard of the rural community until his buddy Nixon Swagger had moved back to the farm he’d grown up on, then asked Chasin, Weston, Jameson, and Holden to move to Maryland and start the business they’d talked about while they were all still in the Navy.
But now that he was there, he understood the charm. The downtown area, which was nothing more than a town square, looked like it had been frozen in time. Sure, the shops that lined the streets were modern, but the buildings were not. Everything about the area screamed to slow down, relax, grab a bushel of crabs, a beer, and stay awhile.
Chasin was going to stay awhile, not only because he was part owner of Gemini Group but because he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He sure as fuck didn’t want to be anywhere near the dysfunction of his family.
There was movement at the door and Alec Hall stepped into his office. The man wasn’t one of the original owners of Gemini Group. Unlike Nixon, Jameson, Weston, Holden, and Chasin, Alec had gone to work for the government when he’d separated from the Navy. Thankfully, Alec had stomached all he could, left DHS, joined Gemini Group, and was now an equal shareholder.
“Sorry to interrupt. Our client’s early.”
“I have to go,” Chasin said into the phone and pulled it away from his ear before his mother had time to respond.
Was it rude? Hell, yes. Did he give a fuck? Hell, no.
If Nancy wanted love and care from her son, she shouldn’t have been a cheating twat.
Chasin pocketed his phone, turned to Alec, and admitted, “I haven’t had time to go over the file.”
He’d been gone for four days, got in late last night, and it had taken the better part of the morning to clear out his emails. He hadn’t even opened the file Nixon had left for him.
“No worries. Not much in the file anyway. Record label needs protection for one of their artists—some big-time country star.”
Perfect. After the week from hell, the last thing Chasin wanted to do was deal with some spoiled musician and uppity label people.
“Awesome,” Chasin muttered and Alec smiled.
Some of the tightness in his stomach waned, it was nice seeing his friend happy. Life had thrown Alec a curveball. Not that it wasn’t the best kind the universe could throw, but still, having a baby dropped on your doorstep, one that you hadn’t known you created, would’ve sent a lesser man into a downward spiral.
Sure, Alec had struggled the first few months being a single man in his upper-thirties—what the hell had he known about raising a daughter? However, Alec being Alec, meaning he was sharp and resourceful, had figured it out. Jocelyn was his world. Then he’d met Macy, and with her came her kids, Caleb and Rory. Now Alec’s world was complete.
Lucky bastard.
“When you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen,” Alec said as he turned to leave.
“What?”
“Just because none of us have said anything, doesn’t mean we don’t know something’s up with you. Whatever happened last week that’s got you tweaked, I’m here when you wanna talk about it.”