TMI-Deleted Scenes

TMI - Deleted Scene - Chase talks to his dad

The drive home was lost time. Chase sat in the passenger seat, unable to string together a sentence. When his dad pulled into the driveway, he headed straight to the garage to pound some nails in his block of wood. He whacked a nail, cursing Megan with each strike. Damn her for not telling him about her dad. Damn her for painting him with her own blood. And damn her for not kicking his sorry ass when he practically screamed he never wanted kids.

He cursed out loud when the hammer landed on his thumb.

He popped the thumb in his mouth and threw the hammer on the work bench. Served him right. Seeing Megan’s face, hearing that story… he’d pretty much hammered her over the head with his No Kids Ever rant so the thumb was kind of poetic in a way.

He sank down to a stack of tires his father had in the corner and tried to plot his next move. How the hell did a guy compete with a dead dad and a guilt trip the size of the fucking Grand Canyon? He tasted acid on the back of his tongue and swallowed hard, but the urge to bawl like one of the twins was pretty damn strong.

“Chase?”

“Fuck,” he muttered, wiping his eyes as he jumped up.

His dad stood in the door, haloed by the kitchen light behind him.

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk?”

Whoa. There was an actual raised inflection at the end of that statement so Chase half shrugged, half-nodded to show his appreciation.

“I wanted to talk to you about this.” His father walked to the work bench, took the block of wood from the vise. “After you walked out before, I was mad. I mean, really mad.”

Chase blew out a loud breath, but his dad rushed on before he could interrupt.

“Let me finish. I came out here to bang some nails and saw your work. Looks like you went through a whole box of nails?”

Chase shrugged again. It was more like three boxes. Like he’d admit that.

“When I saw this, I finally got it, Chase. How frustrated you feel. So — Mom and I decided you can go. Dylan’s old enough to help with the new baby this time.”

Chase’s head whipped up to check his dad for signs of a concussion or a take-over by an alien life form — something that could explain this sudden squirt of understanding. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

So he grabbed him in a full-on hug.

“Okay. Okay.” His dad gave him a few thumps on the back but didn’t pull away until he did first. But he didn’t go back in the house. Instead, he sat on the tire stack and stared down at the oil-stained floor. “So, tonight… that was pretty messed up.”

‘Messed up’ wasn’t the term Chase would have used, but okay. “Yeah.”

“I’m confused, though. I don’t know what this imaginary friend of Bailey’s has to do with you.”

“Yeah.” Chase said again and shook the hair from his eyes. “Just lucky, I guess.”

His father snorted. “Yeah, well, when the police knocked on the door this afternoon, I nearly passed out. I swear, Chase, I felt my knees buckle and my vision went spotty. And when they said Meg was the one who threatened you?” Dad shook his head. “I didn’t believe them — not until they showed me the video.”

“She never threatened me, Dad.” Chase shook his head. “It was the other way around. She always avoids me and never wants to hang out, but I wouldn’t leave her alone.”

Dave grinned. “You always were a determined kid. Get that from me.”

Funny, his mother always called it stubborn. “I finally got her to say yes.” A frown replaced his smile. “At least, I thought it was me. But it wasn’t, not really. It was Bailey. Bailey started all of this and I damn it, Dad, I could kill her for it.”

“Chase—”

“I know, I know! You don’t have to say it.” Chase was in no mood for the two-wrongs-don’t-make-a-right speech. Jesus, did parents take a class on that crap? “The point is, Megan had a good reason for staying away from me and I should have just let it go. Now, it’s too late.”

Dave’s eyes widened. “How is it too late?”

Chase groaned and rubbed a hand over his stubble. “Because I love her, Dad. It feels like I’m trapped in that vise and got hit a few hundred times with this.” He stood and took the hammer from the workbench.

Dave reached out and took the hammer, ran his fingers over the grip. “Feels like yesterday when the hammer in your hands said Fisher-Price on it and now… Jesus, Chase, I spent so many years keeping you safe, making sure you didn’t get hurt. When you were little, it was easy. A cartoon Band-aid, a kiss from your Mom or a cookie from me and you were fine. But this? I don’t know how to fix this.” He spread his arms out and let them fall.

Chase had no ideas either. Well, maybe one.

“It’s not ‘this’ that needs to be fixed. It’s her. She needs help, Dad — the kind that comes from someone with a whole lot of letters after their name, not the son of the baker who lives around the block.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“So what are you gonna do, Chase?”

Chase turned and hung the hammer from its hook on the pegboard. “I’m gonna leave, Dad. I’m gonna go to school and hope to God I find something I love to do as much as I love her.”

Dave stood and hugged Chase again. “Always were a determined kid. God, I love that about you.”

Chase laughed once. “Didn’t love it before.”

“That’s because you were a brat before.”

“And now?”

Dave pulled away and opened the door that led to the kitchen. “Now, I understand.” 

For a second, Chase hesitated. Then, he followed his father.