Chase’s promised smile showed up. “Hungry?”
“Apparently.” My cold pizza from lunch was a distant memory, and the thought of one fresh from the oven with the cheese still bubbling all golden brown on top was enough to have me half swaying toward the restaurant. My appetite wasn’t the problem; it was the potentially illicit company. I knew I was giving him all kinds of mixed signals, which I didn’t want to do. I’d shown up at his work with no explanation, my stomach had outed how hungry I was and I wasn’t retreating back to my car.
He took a step backward toward LJ’s. “I know it’s not smashing up a building, but I swear it’s the best thin crust in the state.”
I laughed. Maybe it could just be pizza. With effort, I kept my gaze from moving back to Jungle Juice as I fell into step beside Chase. “You ever try hamburger?”
“On pizza?”
“It’s the best,” I said. “My sister and I tried it a few years ago when we were home alone and broke, and now we make it all the time. Before she left for college, I mean.”
“You say it’s good, I’ll try it.”
We reached the pizza place and Chase grabbed for the door, pausing when it was only half-open. I’d already stepped forward, expecting to go inside, but when he held the door, I was forced to stop right next to him. “Where did we land on the black olives?”
My breath came out as a laugh—I was relieved he hadn’t asked anything serious. “They go great with hamburger.”
When he pulled open the door, he leaned toward me as I walked in. “I’m glad you came back.”
Right or wrong, I felt that way too.
* * *
“So,” I said, fiddling with the parmesan shaker. “Do you like working at Jungle Juice? You said your cousin works there too. How’d that happen?”
“No story there.” Chase rested his forearms on the table. “I told you Brandon and I grew up together. Our parents are siblings and all—”
“Wait, yesterday you said your coworker calls you both McCormick. How do you guys have the same last name?” I knew there was no way Chase and I were related, but I couldn’t help blurting out the question.
“Easy.” Chase pulled the pepper-flake shaker toward him and wrapped both hands around it. “The day I turned eighteen, I legally changed mine to my mom’s maiden name.”
Oh.“Oh.” I felt stupid for bringing it up considering we’d spent the previous night smashing his childhood home in effigy of his dad. If I’d been thinking less about myself, I’d have kept my mouth shut.
“No, it’s okay,” he said, picking up on my discomfort. “It was a great day.” Great maybe, but something in his voice told me that wasn’t the same as happy. “His last name was the only thing my father left me when he took off, and I waited a long time to give it back to him.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me his driver’s license. The name read Chase William McCormick. “Now I can look at that without thinking of him.”
I handed him back his license.
“Best birthday I’ve ever had.” Chase put away his wallet and a few seconds later reclaimed the pepper-flake shaker. I could tell, despite his words, that it was just shy of okay.
“You look like a McCormick.”
He smiled before lifting his gaze to me. “Dana…?”
“Fields.”
“You like your last name?”
Chase’s question caught me up short. I used to. I’d thought it was perfect, given how much my family liked baseball and softball. But everything was different now.
“I used to,” I said, frowning at nothing in particular. “I don’t think I can anymore.”
“Why’s that?”
Chase asked his follow-up question so casually that I almost gave him an equally unguarded answer. “Stuff with my dad,” I said, after I took a moment to refocus.
“Your grandfather, the one you were supposed to meet yesterday, was his father?”
I nodded. “My dad never knew his family, so I thought I was doing this amazing thing by finding his father, and it all blew up in my face.”
