Caught in Us (Caught Series Book 4), Kacey Shea [top 50 books to read .TXT] 📗

me? I am horrible at secrets! If I had known, I would have been on the first flight to see her.”

Jill eases back in her seat, a sigh leaving her lips. “Do you think this is why she stopped answering our calls?”

“The timing is right.” Callie shrugs. “Maybe that’s why her family stopped inviting us to their big parties. Maybe they had some kind of falling out or whatever.”

“Could be.” Jill bites at her lip. “Fuck. I can’t believe she has a child. Our Alicia. A mom.”

“She looked good, though. Right?” Callie presses her hands together, her face full of concern. “I can’t imagine having a baby in another country and not telling my friends.”

“Yeah. I guess.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Of course I am. I don’t understand. Why didn’t she say anything? Why would she ghost us? She had to know we would be supportive. There’s more to all of this. There has to be. But fuck. I don’t get it. I wish I could ask her, but today it felt weird. You know?”

Callie nods. “We need to talk to her.”

“Chase!”

“Yeah.” I act as if I haven’t been listening in on their entire conversation. “What’s up?”

“You’re meeting up with Alicia tomorrow, right?” Jill confirms.

“You did pair us up.” I try for casual, but I wonder if they can hear the anticipation in my words. It hurt when Alicia left town, but I dealt with that pain. Only today I realized I’m not as over her as I thought. Maybe it’s because she showed up with a kid. Maybe it’s the other dude. But deep down I know neither of those reasons are true. If she’d walked into that room solo, my insides would still be a total mess, because it’s her. She has that power over me. She always did and maybe she always will.

“Yeah, I did.” Jill leans forward, digging through a box to find one of the wedding binders and flip it open. “When are you meeting up?”

“I’m picking her up at ten.”

“Good. Do a little recon.”

I stare, brow raised. “On?”

“The past three fucking years!”

Already fucking on it. But I’m not going to play spy for Jill and Callie. Any info I find on Alicia is for myself. “Don’t you think you should ask her yourself?”

“Yeah, well, I’m a bride with no venue, her entire wedding plan torched, and a former best friend who had some secret love child I never knew about. You’ll excuse my lack of time and rational behavior.”

“Just ask her to lunch. I don’t want to be in the middle of this.” But I’m worried I already am. If Alicia’s son is mine? Fuck! I can’t allow myself to hope—or think it’s true. There’s no way she would have left pregnant with my child and never told me—right? Only, if she was worried about my sobriety, that’s exactly what she would have done. She’d have done anything to keep her child away from addiction.

“Chase?” Jill waves her hand in the air. “Hello?”

Callie giggles at my distraction. She wouldn’t find it so funny if she knew what was going through my head.

“Sorry. What?”

“Just don’t scare her away.” Jill narrows her glare. “I remember how you were—always getting under her last nerve. I don’t want her to run again, or feel uncomfortable now that she’s back. I want my best friend back in my life again.”

“Of course.” I swallow hard. “I won’t do anything to piss her off.” At least intentionally. No, I want answers, too. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get them.

10

Alicia

Three years ago, first night in London

Tomorrow I check into my dorm and meet my program coordinators, and my new life begins. I tried to time my flight so I arrived a few hours early, but my options were limited and the last thing I wanted was to show up late to my first day. Which is why I’m checked into this hotel smack in the middle of the city, bored out of my mind, and filled with a restless energy I can’t seem to escape.

I should be tired. Jet lagged. Focused on tomorrow. Resting.

Instead, the four walls of my room feel as if they’re closing in. I can’t stop thinking about Chase. My father. Then Chase again. Fuck. I have to get out of here. I need some air. Clutching my coat in one hand and my wallet in the other, I fly from my room like my own thoughts might set me on fire.

There’s an elevator but when I push the call button the doors don’t open right away. Fuck it, I’m taking the stairs.

Down the three flights sends my pulse racing to match my thoughts. I push out into the lobby. Better. But still. I think of him. I wonder if I made the right choice.

It’s a little late for regrets but my chest doesn’t seem to understand. With each passing second my ribs grow tighter. My breath shortens. I think I’m having a panic attack.

I stumble toward the entry and push outside, the damp night air a mild relief. I lean against the building and finally catch my breath. I’m okay. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. It’s been a long day, following an even longer two weeks. I’m not Superwoman. I’m only human and I’m allowed to feel.

The problem is I don’t want to. I’m afraid if I start, I won’t be able to stop.

I need to forget. I need temporary relief. I want to be numb.

My gaze darts to the flood of laughter and music that pours from an open door. The pub is less than twenty feet away, and I take each step with an eerie sense of resolve. As if I’ve already decided.

This is a bad idea.

Nothing good comes from a recovering addict wandering into a bar.

Inside, a game is playing on the televisions and no one pays the lost American girl much attention as she finds an empty barstool. It’s nice to sink into the scene, like walking into someone else’s world. A place where there are