Free Lead Me On by Victoria Dahl Page B

dinner?”
    But Chase was fluent in his father’s secret language. What he meant was, “I’m out of money and I need beer. Buy a case or two, and some cigarettes, and bring them to my house. And if it makes you feel better, bring sandwiches, too.”
    His stomach used to burn when that phone call came, but not anymore. He’d finally started reading up on dependency and enabling relatives. There was no beer in the back of his truck. Just groceries.
    He slowed to make the corner at Ryders, but before he’d quite completed the turn, his head stuttered to the side. Amid the bikes and pickups in the Ryders lot sat a shiny white BMW.
    Lifting his foot off the accelerator, he let the truck slow for a moment so he could stare at the car. But after a few heartbeats, Chase burst out laughing. The idea that Jane would be at a biker bar…
    “Oh, Christ,” he gasped, wiping his eyes. Fucking hilarious.
    Ten minutes later he’d pulled up to his father’s trailer, identifiable amid the rows of similar trailers by the Green Bay Packers flag flying above the door. They’d never lived anywhere near Wisconsin. Another thing Chase would never understand about his dad.
    “Hey, Dad,” he said as he pulled open the screen door.
    “Billy!” his dad called, waving from his recliner.
    “I brought fried chicken. You hungry?”
    “Sure. Sure. I’m hungry. Let’s pop open a beer and have dinner.”
    He fought not to roll his eyes. “I don’t drink, Dad. And I didn’t bring any beer. Just dinner.”
    His dad’s eyes flew to his for a brief moment before they slid away. “Oh, all right. That’s fine, I guess. We’ll just have dinner. I sure would appreciate it if you could grab me a few beers before you head back to Aspen, though.”
    Chase felt his heart beat harder, but he shook his head. “Let’s just eat.”
    “Sure!” his dad said brightly, but Chase saw the resignation in his eyes. Chase hadn’t brought beer last time, either. The gravy train was over.
    One piece of chicken later, his dad’s eyes started wandering around the trailer. “Well, all right,” he said, as if they’d just eaten a four-course meal. “Thanks for the food.”
    At least he wasn’t a mean drunk, Chase thought as he grabbed another piece of chicken and chewed. His dad had never been a mean drunk, but maybe it would’ve been easier if he was. Chase could’ve just moved on and left him behind.
    As it was, he felt he couldn’t leave him behind. Chase’s last serious girlfriend had accepted a job in Utah and asked Chase to come with her. They’d been at an important crossroads in the relationship. A move to Utah would have meant a house together, a path toward marriage and serious plans. But Chase had said no. He couldn’t leave his father alone.
    It had been Chase’s decision, but he’d been furious when his girlfriend had packed up and driven away. At the time, he’d been self-righteously sure he’d been right and she’d been heartless. But that surety had since drifted away and he could see he’d let a good relationship go without a fight.
    His dad slapped his hands against his knees, calling Chase’s attention back to him. “All right then, Billy.”
    Resigned, Chase packed up the box of chicken and put it in the fridge, then put the rest of the groceries away while his dad paced across the small living room, sliding a thumb nervously across his bottom lip, brow lowered in concentration.
    “Bye, Dad,” Chase said. He got a wave in reply. Before the screen door had even closed behind him, he heard the beep of the phone being dialed.
    “Hey there, Debra!” his dad said cheerfully. “You up for a game of Scrabble tonight? I’ve got the tiles if you’ve got the drinks.”
    Debra was the sad old lady who lived two rows over. Sometimes Chase found her passed out on his dad’s couch. Better than the bed, anyway.
    Trying not to let his relief bloom too large, Chase escaped to his truck and took off. He slammed his palm against the