Chapter 24: Chase

Thursday, July 30th

Should I text Ethan? I wondered for the thousandth time, fed up with my own indecisiveness. I still couldn’t believe he quit the team over three months ago, transferring to Miami without so much as a goodbye. I’d tried reaching out to him several times in the weeks after he left, but he never responded, and I’d eventually given up. While I wanted to be angry with him, I hated the way we left things, especially after how long we had been friends.

With about thirty minutes left until my flight boarded, I finally sent him a text.

Me: Hey. Hope you’re doing okay and enjoying Miami.

There, I thought, the ball is in his court now. I had taken my seat and was about to switch off my phone when a new message came through.

Ethan: Plenty of bikini-clad girls, so no complaints.

Typical Ethan.

Me: Glad to hear it.

I felt a small measure of relief that he’d texted me back, and found myself questioning how Ethan would have reacted to the proposal that we all date Haley. Despite his attraction to her, I somehow didn’t see him agreeing to it; at least maybe someone else would have been on my side.

Powering off my phone, I was secretly looking forward to going radio silent for a while, even if only for a one-and-a-half-hour flight to Portland. Between everything that had happened personally and professionally the last few months, it felt like we were constantly jumping from one fire to the next. Thoughts of the latest work crisis ran through my mind, and I wondered how long it would take to uncover the culprit behind a series of suspicious events within Zenith.

Apparently the December break-in of Patrick’s office wasn’t the first act of subterfuge within the organization; we just weren’t aware of it until then. Patrick had been keeping an eye on the situation and recently approached the five of us to act as a secret task force to uncover the responsible parties and their motives. Between Ethan’s betrayal, Haley’s surprise departure, and the corruption within Zenith, I was finding it hard not to become jaded.

I sighed and closed my eyes, more grateful than ever for the empty seat next to me. Earlier in the week, one of Haley’s security cameras shorted out and I jumped at the opportunity to repair it in person. We all knew this particular camera wasn’t strictly necessary, but I insisted on going to Portland, and none of the guys had put up much of a fight. Maybe they think it will convince me to agree to their insane idea, I thought cynically.

After arriving at Helen’s bungalow, I finished my repair quickly, wanting to make it to the coffee shop before Haley’s shift ended. Watching her on the surveillance feed wasn’t the same as seeing her in person. Although I planned to sit outside in the car, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, I couldn’t resist going in once I arrived at Percolate.

Fortunately, the coffee shop was full since it was open mic night. Attempting to remain incognito, I kept my head down and took a seat at a table near the door. I chose to believe my Mariners baseball hat and week of facial hair would be a sufficient disguise, because Jackson would kill me if he discovered the risk I was taking. If anything, I was once again proving that when it came to Haley, my decision-making was undeniably impaired.

Haley busied herself behind the counter, making drinks while Noah took orders and rang up customers. Every time she smiled at him, I wanted to throttle the twerp, even though I knew it wasn’t her real smile—her face simply didn’t light up like when she smiled at me. Or Knox or Theo or Jackson or Liam. Damn it.

A man I recognized as the shop’s owner announced another performer. “Next, we have a special treat. One of our own employees, Brooke, has agreed to play for us. Please give her a big round of applause.”

When Haley—I didn’t allow myself to even think of her as Brooke—took a seat on stage, I tried not to gape. I’d had to practically beg her to sing or play for me, and now she was performing in front of nearly fifty people. I could tell she was nervous and smiled to myself as she attempted to hide behind her long curtain of straight, black hair.

Haley strummed a few chords, and I sucked in a shallow breath, immediately recognizing the song. My mind easily recalled the night she stayed in my apartment last October and I played that very song for her, willing her to see how much she meant to me. I’d been upset about work stuff at the time, and little-by-little, she cheered me up in a way only Haley could manage. And, when she’d started singing, it had taken everything in me not to lean across the guitar and kiss her right then and there.

Watching her now, I felt myself, along with everyone else in the room, being drawn in by her beautiful, rich voice. As the lyrics of “Collide” poured out of her, her gaze was distant, but I could have sworn she was singing directly to me. Is she thinking about me? Remembering when I played for her? Ever since that night, I’d thought of this song as ours, and in that moment, I was almost certain she did as well.

When the song ended, the crowd was spellbound, momentarily hushed before breaking into enthusiastic applause. Haley graciously accepted the praise, then fled the stage. Wishing I could go after her, it took every ounce of my self-control to get up and walk out the front door of the coffee shop instead. I already stayed longer than I should have.

Step-by-bitter-step, I distanced myself from her, my pulse racing as I tried to grasp what I just witnessed. Although she performed beautifully, there was a melancholy to Haley’s demeanor that punched me in the gut. And, as much as I wished that she was missing only me, deep down, I knew that wasn’t true.

I was beginning to realize that I would do almost anything to make Haley happy. Did that include sharing her with my best friends? Am I crazy to even consider it?