Chase, p.1
Chase, page 1
Chase
Taylor K Scott
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2024 Taylor K. Scott
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the author.
Warning: The following work of fiction describes content of a sexual nature. It also discusses sensitive themes including violence and mental health issues. See Author’s Note for more information.
DEDICATION
I remember when I was fifteen, crying in my room, with my hands cracked and bloody, because my OCD just wouldn’t let me rest. I was terrified of someone finding me like this, so scared I would be shouted at for being ‘nuts’. During my meltdown, I heard a gentle pat-patting at my bedroom door. I opened it to find Bronwyn, the family border collie, wagging her tail, her ears laid flat, and concern behind her beautiful brown eyes. She softly shuffled inside, waited for me to close the door, then nuzzled her nose into the crook of my neck. She let me cry while I held her close. She listened without judgement, loved without wanting, and saw me through some of the darkest times of my life.
To my darling fur baby, Bronwyn, this story is dedicated to you and all the other ‘Stella’s who now reside at Rainbow Bridge.
Musical Influences
I’ll Stand by You – The Pretenders
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to the community of writers and readers out there who have answered questions, read my work, given me advice, and shared my work. Thank you to all of you!
To my beta readers, Liz Rogers, Freya Martin, Charlotte Mieu, Phoebe Black, and Mama Sue, who all took the time to read this book during the early stages. Just to have someone read my work and offer their opinion is always so empowering for me. I sincerely appreciate you offering me your time, support, and advice.
I must also thank my poor, suffering husband for supporting me through my obsession with writing. Not only has he had to live with my reading habit, which is becoming more and more consuming, but also has the added bonus of losing me to my own works of fiction. Know that I love you dearly, as well as our two beautiful girls, and appreciate all the encouragement you have given me.
Finally, but most importantly, thanks to everyone who has taken a chance on my novel. I hope it hasn’t disappointed, and that you might take a chance to read some of my upcoming releases. Thank you so much again.
Author’s Note
The ‘Reawakened’ trilogy contains scenes that may be hard to read and may trigger some people. They include scenes of sexual, physical, and emotional abuse. ‘Chase’ looks closely at family relationships, and includes themes of infertility, infidelity, and abandonment. I have no intention of offending anyone or any culture.
This series has a major theme of mental health running through it, including depression, abuse, bullying, anxiety and PTSD.
Prologue
Theo
You can’t choose who your family are.
That’s what they say, and for some people, it’s a perfectly valid statement. But for kids like me, it’s not entirely accurate. I was chosen. You see, my folks went through the painfully long-winded process of adopting me before I had even taken my first breath.
Wyatt and Frances Chase had already tried the traditional route of having a child, but when no positive sign appeared on that pregnancy stick after over a year, they conceded that further testing would need to be done. Two rounds of IVF later, and still no baby. So they decided to offer their home, love, and family, to a kid who wasn’t wanted. A kid like me.
The only stipulation my birth mother had made at the time of adoption was that I never be told the real names of my biological parents. This might sound like a heartless demand, but from what little Wyatt and Frances have told me, it was one made from a place of love. Apparently, my father was a violent man who dabbled in shady activities, whereas my mother was much too young to have been doing what one needs to do in order to have an unwanted pregnancy. With this in mind, she decided she wanted me to be completely immersed in a new loving family and to have no connection to my sad beginnings. I respect her for this. In fact, I thank her for it.
My mother originally came from a traditional Spanish family who insisted you attend church every Sunday, even if you’re leg was hanging off and your heart was threatening to give out. Sex was for the marriage bed and your elders always had the last word. Being a little rebellious, she had met an American tourist at a beach party during one particularly hot summer in Andalucia. As well as being rebellious, she was also young and naïve; she fell in love quickly. It therefore hadn’t taken much persuading to convince her to move to America, without her family’s knowledge. Passport, I hear you say? No need when you’re the type of guy my father was. Speaking of, back on home soil, my sperm donor revealed what a thug he really was. But it was too late for regrets or second-guessing, for she was already pregnant and with nothing to her name other than fraudulent documents and a case full of beach clothes.
After hearing her sad tale, the Wyatts had offered to pay for my birth mother to travel back home; they even reached out to help her get back into contact with her family. But as soon as I was born and signed over to my adoptive parents, she vanished, as did my biological father. I like to think she did get back to her family, thus escaping the abusive bastard, but I guess I’ll never know.
Back to my life and I can assure you it had been practically picture perfect. I lived in a beautiful house that sat a stone’s throw away from the beach, otherwise known as my playground. My uncle, from my mother’s side, taught me how to surf, whereas my parents taught me everything I needed to know about giving and accepting love. I was a happy, contented kid with great friends, great family, and a great life. I was truly blessed.
That was until I was about ten years old. But two months after my tenth birthday, we had to move to England. To say I was gutted is an understatement. I didn’t want to leave all the things that I loved so much in California; I wanted to stay where I was happy to wake up every morning. I even loved getting up for school every day, because that’s where my friends were, my favorite teachers, and my home.
However, Dad was the guy who brought home the money to pay for this entitled lifestyle, so if his job was telling him to move halfway across the world, then that’s what he had to do. I knew this, I really did, but I still let them know how pissed off I was about it all. I was about as delightful as one would expect a pre-teen to be when faced with such an upheaval.
It was my mother who eventually had me conceding to accept what I couldn’t change, like it always was. Frances Chase was, and still is, the best of mothers, even though life had decided she could never have a child of her own. She knew how to calm the storm within me, knew how to soothe my fears, and could always turn a potential tragedy into an opportunity. I love her more than words can say, and I know she feels the same about me. It might be selfish of me to say, but I’m almost glad she was unable to have a baby of her own; if she had, I might never have got to call her my mother.
So, against every natural instinct screaming at me to stay put, even if it meant living in a cardboard box on the beach, I boarded a plane for England with my parents.
And thank God I did. Getting on that plane led me to her. Moving away from everything that I held close to my heart, brought me to the girl who would one day own it.
Unfortunately for her, she didn’t get to choose her family.
Neither did they.
Chapter 1
Present
Max
“I think I see her, boss,” I tell a guy I’ve never met before through the hands-free. “Between the old photograph you sent, and the barman pointing her out, I am virtually certain it’s her. What do you want me to do?”
“Send me a picture to be sure,” he huffs with a no-nonsense tone of voice. His American accent has me rolling my eyes over how arrogant this guy sounds. I bet he’s in some high-rise office with a crystal-cut glass of scotch and a view of the entire city in front of him.
“Er, no can do,” I reply with a wince, knowing how unprofessional this is going to sound, “my camera’s broken.”
The next minute is consumed by this jumped-up suit effing and jeffing at me, plus a few more expletives I’ve never even heard of before. I could try to explain that my girlfriend, Cheryl, had busted up my phone only moments before I came out tonight, but honestly, what difference would it make? The supposed love-of-my-life had been a little angry over my having to work tonight, not that she’ll mind spending the money I’ll get for a mere few hours of easy grafting.
“Sorry, boss, what?” I ask dumbly when I realize he’s been going on without me having listened to a single word.
“Just watch her, can you manage that?” he snaps, sounding completely exasperated by my incompetence. “Try and get close enough so I can hear, or at least so you can narrate for me. For fuck’s sake!”
“Why am I tailing her anyway?” I ask, which probably isn’t the wisest of things to say, but I like to know a bit about who I’m watching. Mum always did say I was far too nosey for my own good.
“None of your fucking concern, asshole,” he replies, which was pretty much the answer I was expecting . “Just do what I’m paying you for.”
“Ok. So, she’s leaning over the bar talking to the barman; they must know each other because they’re chatting and he’s laughing with her. She’s wearing tight jeans and a black satin vest, heels, and her hair’s all curly down her back. She’s…she’s…”
“She’s what? Choose your words very carefully,” he says, sounding extremely constipated and pissed off about this girl being all dressed up for others to see.
“Well, she’s fucking hot, Boss. There’s a big group of guys ogling her as we speak. They ain’t hiding it neither.”
“Get closer, I want to hear,” he orders, sounding more and more frustrated.
Acting on his instruction, I saunter up to the bar and sit on the stool nearest to hers. The blaring music in this place makes it hard to hear anything, so I’m not too sure how successful I’m going to be, but I’ll still do as I’m told. She finishes her chat with the barman, then turns to face both me and the group of guys. They all whistle and shout as soon as they get a good look at her face; she’s stunning!
“What?” she growls, placing her hands on her hips.
“Sorry, darlin’,” the cockiest-looking shit of them all says as walks towards her, “we were all placing bets to see if the front was as fuckable as the back. We’re pleased to say, hell to the yes, it is! So, which one of us takes your fancy? Cos quite frankly, you can have your pick.”
“No thank you,” she replies with a scowl on her face, then takes a gulp from her beer bottle.
“Oh, come on, love,” he says as he slides up real close to her. “See Richie over there?”
He uses his bottle to point to a guy who is slouching on the sofa. Richie lifts his bottle in greeting at the same time as giving her a cheeky wink. Smooth!
“Well, he’s currently nursing a broken heart. His girlfriend of three years has just moved to Australia,” he says while I bite my lips together over the audacity of this guy. “Maybe you could cheer him up…if you know what I mean!”
“Sure, I know what you mean, as subtle as you’re being,” she says, putting her bottle on top of the bar. “And as amazing as an opportunity to drop my knickers for some guy who’s going to be picturing his long-term girlfriend all night is, I’m going to give Richie a firm pass.”
She gifts him and Richie a fake smile that lasts all of two seconds, then begins to walk away. However, before she’s even taken her third step, the guy grabs hold of her arm and pulls back.
“Darlin’, you can’t dress like that and not expect dick; I mean, come on!” His friends all burst out laughing, all the while she looks more and more like a volcano that’s getting ready to violently explode.
“Do you need me to intervene, Boss? He just grabbed her arm,” I tell him, my fingers already feeling itchy to hit this tool in the face. Before the boss can even say a word in response, she begins to give this guy a verbal slap, which I am totally down for hearing.
“Maybe I am, but it doesn’t mean I want your diseased dick, does it?” she says matter of factly. “And if you don’t let go of me, I will motherfucking pepper spray you so much, you’ll be screaming for your mummy. I can dress how I please and I can do it without flaccid little prinks like you thinking you have entitlements. Now, kindly fuck off!”
All signs of his earlier mirth are instantly wiped from his face by her lashing of words. He looks furious, to the point where he might try to become physical. But surprisingly, he lets go. His teeth remain clenched, but he says nothing more. She then walks away, flipping him the bird over her shoulder. I can’t help but smirk to myself. This girl has balls, perhaps too big for her own good. Alas, although the prick more than deserved it, things could easily have turned ugly for her.
I watch her for another hour or two, sometimes having to sit on my hands to stop myself from getting involved. She moves around the club, flirting with plenty of guys, even dancing way too provocatively with a few, only to tell them to get lost when they suggest something more than just dancing. To put it bluntly, this girl is professional dick tease. I’m not even sure which part she enjoys more, the attention or getting to turn them all down. And when she’s not with a guy, she’s alone. No friends or acquaintances; this is a lone sport for her. The boss hears all of it, either from my narrating the scene or hearing some of it from the girl herself. He tells me to stick close but to maintain some distance; I’m only to get involved if she is physically threatened. I guess we were both lucky tonight.
Eventually, she makes a move to leave, so I surreptitiously walk towards the exit, calling the boss again as I do so. He answers when I near the exit, the fresh air already making me breathe more easily. She’s still in my line of sight and I notice her slipping on a black hoodie before she gets ready to exit onto the street.
“She’s leaving, what do you want me to do?” I ask the boss.
“Just make sure she gets home alright and then you can go,” he says, but before I can reply, she’s suddenly all up in my face, making me jump in surprise.
“Who the fuck are you and why the hell have you been watching me all night?”
While I internalize a torrent of curses, the boss is telling me to keep the line open so he can keep listening.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her at the same time as I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m just out for a drink.”
“Oh, please, I may be dressed provocatively, but it doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” she tuts, standing back so she can cross her arms. “Is it my father or my psychotic big brother who you’re talking to on the phone there? Gotta say, they’ve not pulled this sort of shit in a little while, but perhaps they have some deal going down. Whatever it is, stop following me and tell them to back the fuck off!”
Lost for words, I can only frown to try and show her I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. Not that she sticks around for that long before turning around and stomping away down the street.
“Did you get that, Boss?”
“Mmm,” is all he says. “Is she safe?”
“Aha, getting into a taxi as we speak,” I inform him as I watch her duck down into a licensed car.
“You may go; thank you, Max,” he replies and hangs up.
This was the strangest night’s work I’ve had in a long time. Not complaining though, she was easy to look at.
Chapter 2
Theo 10 years old
Izzy 8 years old
Theo
So far, England is shaping up to be worse than the one time the folks and I went camping. We lasted half the evening before packing up and returning home in the middle of a cold and stormy night. Alas, I don’t think we’re going to be giving in that easily, even with me refusing to hold back my extremely poor opinion of this place. It’s freezing, drizzling, and grey outside. A complete contrast to home.
If I was there now, I’d be hanging out with my buddies on the beach, maybe catching a few waves, maybe lounging around the bars scoring a soda or two off the local bartenders. Now I’m stuck in a grey Volvo watching wet field after wet field pass me by. Dad is trying to instill me with fake enthusiasm, Mom is trying her best to look and sound positive, whereas I’m sulking in the back with a barely touched sandwich that tastes as good as the weather looks.
Dad’s only acting over the top excited because we’re going to be living near his older brother, Craig Chase, as well as his ‘sinfully boring wife’, Alex. I say ‘acting’ because in the ten years of my life that I’ve been living with the Chases, they must have mentioned Dad’s brother and his family a handful of times. I’ve met them even less so; once when I was a baby, and then again, a few years ago. They have one irritating daughter called Matilda and another younger daughter, Isobel. I can’t say I remember much about Isobel because she was only four when I saw her last, and she had clung to our grandmother the entire time. Matilda, however, who happens to be the same age as me, was spoiled and extremely loud. There’s also an older brother whom I’ve never met, called Ethan.
