“If no one comes by, we should be fine here for the night. It’s warm out, and I have a couple of blankets in the back. We have a few bottles of water left, and I think one of the privates left some beef jerky in the glove compartment.”
Chase suddenly wished she’d had more of an appetite at dinner. They were stranded on a back road in the middle of East Bumfuck with no idea when they’d be rescued. No. Chase rephrased the situation. She was stranded in the middle of nowhere with Norah, alone, with all the time in the world.
Chapter Six
Once the initial fight-or-flight response settled in Norah, and she felt like they had the best chance at coming out of a somewhat iffy situation unscathed, reality tunneled its way in. She was alone—likeCast Away, Lost, Into the Wild—alone with Chase. Norah was relatively confident her body would be safe, but her heart? She wasn’t totally sold on that one.
More to occupy herself than because it was actually cold out, Norah searched the back of the jeep, where she knew at least two scratchy, green, army-issue blankets were tucked away beside the spare tire. So much for avoiding the past, she thought. There it was, splayed out in front of them like the black horizon, looming, inescapable.
When Norah returned to the driver’s seat, Chase had turned the key halfway in the ignition, the radio playing some crunchy country station at low volume.
“We should probably leave the car off,” Norah said.
Chase shrugged. “We aren’t going anywhere anyway. Am I right? Might as well enjoy a little Conway Twitty, or whoever the hell this is, while we wait.”
She had a point. “I’m shocked it still turns on at all. But couldn’t you have found something a little less, I don’t know, twangy? This is making my ears bleed.”
Chase laughed. “It’s Southern Louisiana. Your choices are Rush Limbaugh or Conway Twitty.”
“Right. Twitty it is.” Norah smiled, a part of her feeling like she was bracing for battle. She didn’t want to be the one to broach the past. She didn’t feel like it was her job anymore—not after what Chase had done.
A long silence passed between them. Chase, who’d popped the seat back and was stretched out with her hands behind her head, sat up sharply and began rummaging through the glove compartment.
“What are you doing?” Norah asked.
“You said there was beef jerky in here. I’m hungry.”
Norah shook her head and grinned. A minute later, Chase victoriously emerged from the glove box, not with a pack of dried beef, but with a bottle of some kind of clear liquid.
“Jackpot.” Her smile took over her entire face as she cracked open what Norah decided was some kind of vodka.
“You’re going to drink that?”
“Why not? We can’t go anywhere. We don’t have Wi-Fi or even a cell signal. It’s not like we could be on the clock even if we wanted to.” Again, Chase had a point.
She took a quick swig and pushed the bottle toward Norah. Norah hesitated. She wasn’t a big drinker anyway, save for the occasional social glass of wine. Something about drinking hard liquor in an army jeep felt wrong. And something about drinking hard liquor in an army jeep stranded in the middle of the swamp with Chase felt especially wrong. But they likely weren’t going anywhere for the night. And a little liquid courage was sure to help deal with any upcoming scuffle with the past. Norah accepted the bottle from Chase and took a slightly smaller sip, the warmth biting its way down her throat and into her chest. She felt her face contort into a pucker, and Chase laughed heartily.
“Atta girl,” Chase said, slugging her on the shoulder.
They passed the bottle back and forth several more times, listening to the twangs of Glen Campbell and Dolly Parton. Norah’s vision was becoming swimmy, which was pleasantlydisorienting in the expansive blackness. It had rained earlier, and the cloud cover was still too heavy to allow any stars to poke through. Both she and Chase were accustomed to the glow of the Atlanta skyline. This must be where the phrase “quiet as a country night” came from.
“Okay. I’m just going to say it. And please, I’m begging you to let me.” Chase, who’d been beating Norah on at least a two-to-one vodka-slugging ratio, was slurring her words slightly, and her voice was husky with intensity. Norah watched Chase’s hands claw at her knees, her gaze fixed on the nothingness in front of them, preparing for the somethingness that was about to come.
Chase sat up, angling her broad shoulders toward Norah and hitting the knob on the radio, leaving them in ear-piercing silence. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then opened them again, widely, the intensity in her facial expression only building.
“I’m sorry, Norah.”
“Chase. We don’t have to do this.” Norah knew they did, but the words came out almost on autopilot after so many days of repeating them.
“Yes, we do. So please, let me explain. Fifteen years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life. Or mistakes, actually. When Davey died, I should have been there for you. I spent so much time needing you, being cared for by you, and being loved by you. And when you needed me the most, I was gone.”
Norah already felt the tears building behind her puffy lids and was more grateful for the facade of darkness than ever. She didn’t answer, knowing full well that Chase had more to say. Presumably, a lot more.
“When I heard about Davey, I ran away. I can’t really tell you why, other than I’m fucking terrible at handling conflict. Or, I was. I’ve spent a lot of time in therapy since then, figuring that out. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to be what you needed. And,honestly, I was afraid of making things worse for you. You were so torn up—”
“Don’t turn this around on me,” Norah snapped.
It wasn’t fair. Chase was doing her best.
