No Good For Anyone (11 page)

He hadn’t cried. Not even once.

That afternoon, Chace drove home to Boston. The next day, he quit his job. The only thing that had meant anything to his father besides Chace and Jane was The Trib.

And so Chace was determined that the restaurant would survive.

He bought a house on the Cape and ripped everything out of it – kitchen, bathrooms, everything -- because the rustic beach décor made it feel too much like his dad’s house.

He put his dad’s house the market, listing it at an insanely low price, so he could sell it quickly and be done with it. He hired people to box up his father’s things and put them in a storage unit.

The police never found the car that had veered into the wrong lane that night.

There were skid marks on that side of the road, but no other clues as to what had happened. It was probably a drunk driver, the police told him, and there was nothing he could have done, no way he could have gotten out of the way in time.

But Chace felt responsible. He should have been paying better attention, should have turned the wheel the other way, should have done
something.
He walked away with seven stitches and a headache. And three people were dead.

So he buried himself in booze and women, until Bo had the intervention with him six months ago. He’d laid off the booze, but ratcheted up on the women. The emptiness inside of him had never gone away, not even a little.

Until he’d seen Lindsay, and been struck with emotions he had thought would never come back.

It was overwhelming.

But he wasn’t good for her, wasn’t good for anyone. He was damaged. And to invite her into that would just end up crushing her.

C
hapter
E
ight

Lindsay had a phone call scheduled with her agent that morning, their bimonthly call in which they discussed any pressing business. She got through it the best she could, the whole time feeling a crushing weight pressing on her chest. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t concentrate, and couldn’t think of anything except Chace. He was in her thoughts, in her mind, in everything around her.

She had nothing to distract her – she couldn’t even write because of her stupid wrist. Finally, she decided to drive into town and do some grocery shopping. If she didn’t get out of the house, she was going to go crazy. She pushed her cart through the aisles -- being careful of her wrist -- and filled the carriage with anything that looked remotely good, which for once, was hardly anything.

When she was done, she drove around town for a while, trying to muster up interest in the shops and businesses that lined Main Street. As she drove, she tried to conjure up some anger toward Chace for telling her what he’d told her this morning, and then turning his back on her and shutting her out. But she couldn’t. It was too upsetting, seeing him standing there in her yard, telling her that his father was dead.

Her thoughts swirling, she continued to drive until she came up to a little bar.

There was a decrepit wooden sign hanging outside, with THE GRISTMILL carved into it in big capital letters. Lindsay pulled in and decided to have a drink. She wondered briefly if she should be worried about the fact that she’d had a glass of wine last night and was now apparently going for another one.

When she got inside, the place was empty. The bartender was wiping down the bar, his back to her.

“Hey,” he said, flashing an easy smile. He set a coaster down in front of her.

“What can I get you?”

She ordered a glass of red wine and sipped it slowly.

The bartender puttered around behind the bar, wiping glasses and filling bowls with peanuts.

“You new around here?” he asked after a few minutes.

“How’d you know?”

He shrugged. “I know pretty much everyone who comes in here.”

“It’s that small of a town?”

He nodded. “Plus, I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve gotten used to seeing the same people.”

“Wow,” she said. “Doesn’t that get boring?”

“Nah, I kind of like it. No surprises, you know?”

“Makes sense.” She liked this guy. He had a nice smile, and he seemed content for her to sit here, nursing her wine. She got the impression he didn’t care if she talked or not. He was happy to make conversation, but if he got the idea she wanted to be by herself, he would back off.

“So where’d you move into?” He launched himself up onto the shelf on the other side of the bar, sitting so that he was facing her across the open space.

“The little house on Granby Road? The one that’s in the middle of nowhere?”

“Oh, really?” he asked, sounding excited. “My best friend Chace lives there, in the bigger house.”

The warm feeling she’d started to get suddenly evaporated. Was Chace Davenport everywhere? How was she going to escape him? She stared down into her wine, then took a slow sip, wondering what to say.

The man must have sensed her uncomfortableness, because he said, “Oh, shit.

What has he done to you? Did he.. did he
sleep
with you already? Shit, I’m sorry.

Chace, he’s… he’s fucked up because of this… thing that happened. He’d kind of…”

He put a hand up to his head and twirled a finger around by his ear, making the universal sign for crazy. “Don’t worry, he does it to everyone.”

That was the last straw. Lindsay burst into tears.

“Oh, man,” the bartender said, shaking his head. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Lindsay said. She picked a napkin up off the bar and wiped her tears. “It’s not your fault, it’s just…I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“I’m sorry for bringing him up. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s not your fault.” She took another sip of her wine. “You couldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, well, I should have.” He sighed. “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, Chace isn’t a bad person. He’s just been going through a really rough time. He lost his dad last year, and there was a girl…a girl he really cared about who broke his heart.”

“Who was she?” Lindsay asked, having a hard time believing that anyone could break Chace Davenport’s heart.

“He met her on the internet,” the bartender said, and shrugged.

Great. She knew he’d been lying when he said she was the first one.

“It was right before the accident. He’d left her in Boston and come down to the Cape for his dad’s anniversary party. Chace was driving his dad, his stepmother, and his stepsister home when it happened.”

Lindsay couldn’t breathe.

“What was her name?” she whispered.

“His stepmother? Jane, I think.”

“No.” She shook her head. “The girl that broke his heart.”

“Lindsay. He was upset that she never called him to see why she hadn’t heard from him. He… he was in no shape to call her, but I think he wanted to know that she cared.”

She swallowed hard and took another big gulp of wine.

“You okay?” the bartender asked. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m Lindsay,” she said.

“You’re
Lindsay?”

“Yes.”

“And you moved into the house next door to Chace?”

She nodded.

“Jesus! No wonder you two are both all fucked up.” He shook his head, then held up the bottle of wine, asking if she wanted another. She shook her head no. Half a glass had been enough. Any more and she wouldn’t be able to drive.

“I didn’t call him because I thought he didn’t want to see me anymore,” she said.

“I thought he… I mean, I didn’t know that…”

“No, it makes sense. You thought he was just a jerk guy blowing you off. You didn’t call because of your pride.” He thought about it. “I wouldn’t have called either.”

Lindsay’s heart ached, thinking about Chace, what he must have been going through. She thought about how he must have felt, his father gone, his stepmother, his stepsister…pretty much his whole family.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered.

“Hey, you couldn’t have,” the bartender said. “There was no way you could have.”

She swallowed and nodded, then took a sip of the water he’d set in front of her.

The bartender sighed, pulling his baseball hat off and running his fingers through his hair. “Lindsay, Chace blames himself for what happened to his family,” he said finally. “And it’s going to be really hard for him to get over that.” He paused, then took a deep breath and looked her right in the eye. “But I’ll tell you something I know for sure. Chace is a really good person. And if you’re even thinking about trying to make things right with him, I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that he’s worth taking a chance on.”

***

When she walked out of the bar, Lindsay felt completely numb. She didn’t know what to do, wasn’t sure if what the bartender had told her even changed anything. What was she supposed to do? Tell Chace she was sorry for never calling him? She could only imagine that was the least of his worries after what he’d been through.

Still.

Tears blurred her eyes, not only for what she’d lost with him, but for the whole situation.

But by the time she was pulling onto her street, she’d decided it didn’t make any difference. Chace Davenport was none of her business. He was a man she’d met on the internet, a man she hadn’t seen in twelve months. And this morning, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing to do with her.

She was sorry that he had gone through something so horrible, but she couldn’t be the one to save him. She needed to move on with her life, work on getting her new house in order, work on letting enough time pass so that she wouldn’t get upset every time she saw him outside or looked at his house.

As she got closer to home, the afternoon sunlight was glinting off the pavement, and suddenly, something came lurching out of the brush on the right side of the road.

Lindsay gasped and slammed on the brakes. Her heart pounded as she peered out the windshield at the furry thing that was lurching out onto the street.

It was Maximilian. His head was low, his gait unsteady as he loped along. She opened the door and called his name, wondering what he was doing out here, so far from home. Was he lost?

He perked his head up and looked at her. And that’s when she saw his face. A deep gash ran from the top of his forehead to his ear. Smaller scratches were all over his face, and he was limping.

“Oh, Max,” she said, rushing out of the car as he loped toward her. “What happened?”

He gave a little whine and licked her hand. She didn’t think about what to do.

She just picked him up, put him in the car, and drove him to the veterinary hospital she’d seen while she was in town.

***

Chace was trying to have a meeting the employees of his restaurant. He was in a bad mood after what had happened this morning with Lindsay, and his mood was just getting worse.

“I don’t understand why I need to give you twenty-four hours notice if I have an emergency,” Dolores was saying. “My back was out. Your father never asked for twenty-four hours notice.”

“That’s because you never called in when my father was here,” Chace said calmly. “Otherwise, I’m sure he would have required twenty-four hours notice.”

“Twenty-four hours notice is fine with me,” Marcela said. “But could we, like, make this meetings for later in the day from now on? Because I need to sleep in if I’m going to be able to stay up late working.”

“Stay up late working?” Chace repeated in disbelief. “We shut down at nine.

That’s not that late.”

“Yeah, but sometimes you make me stay until nine-thirty so I can fill up the salt and pepper.” She wrinkled her nose like this wasn’t in her job description.

Chace’s phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out, looked at the caller ID.

It was a number he didn’t recognize, and so he almost didn’t pick up.

“Yeah?” he barked into the phone, mostly because if he didn’t get a break from talking to his staff, he was going to fire the lot of them.

“Chace Davenport?” a man’s voice asked.

“Yeah, this is Chace.”

“This is Dr. Felder at the animal hospital,” he said. “We have Maximilian here, and he looks like he’s been in some kind of fight.”

“What do you mean?” Chace asked. The blood drained from his face. He was dimly aware of Marcela and Dolores fighting about whose job was harder. He took a step away from them.

“Your dog’s been hurt, Mr. Davenport. You should get to the hospital.”

***

When he walked into the waiting room, Lindsay was sitting in one of the hard-backed orange chairs. There was a magazine open in her lap, but she wasn’t reading it.

She was staring down at the floor, her head in her hands, her hair spilling over her face.

He watched her for a moment. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and so out of his reach. His stomach clenched.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted.

She looked up, her eyes bloodshot. He could tell she’d been crying. Was it because of Max? Was he okay?

“Lindsay,” he asked, “what happened?”

“I was driving,” she said. “And I saw him coming out of the woods. He looked a little wobbly, you know? So I pulled over. I didn’t know why he would be so far away from home, and I was worried.”

He nodded, sat down next to her. “How bad is it?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. He had a gash on his head that was pretty bad, and some cuts on his stomach.”

“Thank you for bringing him in.” They were the only ones in the tiny waiting room. Even the reception desk was empty.

They lapsed into silence, and then, a second later, Lindsay stood up. “Well,” she said. “I’d better… I mean, I should probably go. I wanted to stay here until you got here, just in case… just in case Max needed anything.”

He looked at her. He’d been a total asshole to her this morning, and still, she’d been worried about his dog. Enough to pull over and take him to the vet.

“Thanks for doing that,” he said.

“Of course.” She tilted her chin up, and he couldn’t mistake the tone in her voice.

The tone that said she hadn’t done it for him, had only done what any normal person would have done in the situation. But he could see the hurt behind her eyes, could see she was still scarred from this morning.