Chasing Allie (Breaking Away Series #2) by Meli Raine Read Free Book Online Page B

HAPTER E IGHT
    “A LLLIIIIEEEE! ” Marissa screams as she runs down the stairs to the entrance of her apartment building. The sound is so high-pitched it could shatter glass. She thumps down the stairs and hugs me so hard I fall backward a bit, into Chase’s front, and he has to hold us both up. 
    Marissa looks more like our dad. Not that I’d know; I only remember him from pictures. He took off when we were five and two years old, and we haven’t seen him since. For all we know he’s dead. He left a bit of his DNA around, though, and that’s all that matters. While I look like my mother’s mini-me, Marissa is half a foot taller, with short honey-brown hair and almond-shaped green eyes.
    She hugs me, shaking me from side to side, like a favorite stuffed animal you hug until they pop a stitch.
    “I can’t believe you’re here!” she screams. Marissa pauses and looks me up and down. “You’ve been to the ocean already,” she declares.
    “Yes!” I say, breathless from having half my ribs crushed. I’m still aching from my bicycle accident, and her hug takes more out of me than I expected. “Chase took me to the Santa Monica Pier.”
    “Chase!” she shouts, grabbing him for a hug. He looks completely nonplussed and just stands there, arms pinned at his sides as my sister mauls him in a completely platonic way. She’d never try to steal a boyfriend from me. She’s just a hugger.
    Chase clearly isn’t . She can feel him freeze and she gives me a wide-eyed, questioning look. 
    “Nice to meet you,” he says stiffly.
    Marissa pulls away and sort of pats his chest, like she’s smoothing an angry cat’s fur. “So nice to meet you, Chase,” she says as she backs away. Her eyes move back to me and she beckons. “Come on up, both of you!”
    The building is run-down and shabby, with a wrought iron railing for the outdoor walkway along the front doors of a bunch of apartments. Salt in the air has corroded the railings and the stucco outside of the building is flaking everywhere. The exterior is painted flamingo pink, but the chipped chunks have grey underneath.
    It looks like a piece of rotting salmon.
    I don’t care, as long as there’s a bed, a sister, and some peace inside.
    Chase’s phone buzzes as we walk up the stairs.
    “You need to answer that?” I ask.
    “Nope.”
    “Who keeps calling?”
    “No one important.” He shuts down whenever the phone buzzes and I begin my questions. I shut up. Obviously he doesn’t want to talk about it. And that’s fine. I hate having our happy bubble invaded by real life. Jeff kept tight control over the phone he let me use, so I don’t have one on me. He has it, back home. Along with my ballerina music box. 
    A pang of longing hits me. Not for Jeff. Not for home.
    For my mom.
    I make a mental note to tell Marissa about how I felt her presence back at the beach. For now, though, time is taken up with Chase’s awkwardness, the newness of seeing Marissa again after such a long stretch, and settling in for some rest and talk as we visit.
    “Arlen’s out of town on a shoot,” Marissa explains as she takes us down the hallway and opens one of the doors. The room is super simple. Double futon on the floor, tie-dyed comforter, two pillows with bright red pillowcases on them. A set of speakers on a small end table. A dresser.  
    It’s like a minimalist’s refuge.
    And it’s perfect.
    “He said it was fine if you have his room,” Marissa adds. My heart skips a beat. Chase’s eyes comb over the space but he says nothing. His nostrils move a little and his lip twitches. Is that a slight flush I see at his neck?  
    “Just don’t stain the sheets!” a man’s deep, joking voice calls out from a long hallway.
    Marissa blushes and sighs. Chase’s jaw goes tight with anger. The owner of the voice appears and is wearing...a dress. 
    No—a kilt . A Scottish kilt. 
    “Hi,” says the man. He’s nearly seven feet tall and has longer hair than I do, but his