“I can let you go,” Ben offers, voice small.
Chase shakes his head. “No, don’t worry about it. It wasn’t anything important.”
It hurts, hearing that, being dismissed like that, and that hurt drives his words more than concern. “I don’t want you around him, Chase. At all. I’ll arrest him if he comes near you.”
He slams the door on his son’s pale, shattered expression and stands there for a moment, listening as Chase signs off, his voice tight.
He stands there when he hears the soft, choked off sobs coming from his boy.
He stands there until he feels guilt and regret burning in his throat, and then he goes to find the Scotch.
~*~
He works longer hours than normal for the next few days, and he tells himself he isn’t hiding.
But when Tyler Reid stalks into the police station, pale and furious, John realizes he fucked up. He fucked up again.
“Is he ok?”
“I don’t know,” Tyler bites off, “He’s missing.”
~*~
Chase leaves before school. He tells Ben that he’s got to piss and hands his friend his cellphone and then, when the halls are empty and no one has thought to wonder where the hell he is, he slips away.
He knows it won’t stick, that he’s acting more out of outrage than anything else, but he hitches his book bag higher on his shoulders and walks down the street. There’s a little row of offices on the edge of town that’s more artsy and hipster than practical. One is quiet and dark, edged up against the preserve with blacked out windows and bouquets of dried flowers in front of the door.
He jimmies the lock and lets himself into the dusty remains of his mother’s studio, then curls up there, under a sheet that smells of paint and musk, and cries himself to sleep.
~*~
John stares at Reid for a long moment. “What do you mean, ‘he’s missing’?”
He hasn’t seen Chase since that night, and he doesn’t text much, but it’s only been thirty-six hours, and Chase—
“He hasn’t been to the house,” Reid says, “I didn’t worry too much, figured you told him to stay away, but he isn’t in school either. I got a text from someone asking if I’d seen him, but it was from his number.”
John’s stomach plunges and he snatches the proffered phone from him, scanning it.
> uh, hey. have you seen Chase? he’s not in class, but he came to school
“Ben. Why does—Nevermind. Where do you usually see him?”
Tyler gives him a disgusted stare. “Do you really think I’m going to tell you anything? He ran from you. Whatever the hell you said, it scared him enough he didn’t run to me, even though he knows I’m safe. I did my due diligence, sir, and told you he’s missing.”
Reid turns away and John reaches for him, jerks him around and ignores the snarl that earns him, the fury that Reid directs at him.
“I don’t want him hurt either. Hate me all you want—it’s mutual, buddy—but help me find him.”
“Where the fuck do you think I’m going?” Tyler snaps, frustration bleeding into his voice, and John—there’s a part of him, a large part of him, that wants to arrest Tyler, wants to throw him in jail and keep him away from Chase, always.
But there’s fear and worry in the other man’s gaze.
“Ok,” John relents, against his own instincts. “Call me if you hear anything.”
~*~
It’s dark and he’s hungry. His butt hurts from sitting too long and the sounds coming through the studio’s walls from the bar are keeping him awake.
He’s a little surprised his dad hasn’t been here yet.
Of course, he’d have to notice Chase is missing, and he hasn’t been great at noticing Chase for over a year.
He huffs and finally drags himself to his feet.
The thing is, he knew this wouldn’t last. It was more an outraged tantrum than anything else, but he wanted his dad to notice—to care.
He wanted someone in this world to fucking care.
He wipes his cheeks angrily, steps outside, and his gaze snaps up to stare at Tyler, who’s leaning patiently against his Mustang, hands shoved his pockets. He looks strange here, a wild animal in civilization, half a person without Lucas in his chair, and so fucking perfect Chase feels tears burning in his eyes.
Chase’s breath leaves him in a sob, and Tyler shifts, catching him as the boy throws himself into Tyler’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” he says against Tyler’s leather jacket, “Tyler, I’m so sorry. I fucked up.”
Chapter 3
Tyler takes Chase back to the house in the woods, fighting his instincts the entire time.
He isn’t sure how he ended up with an angry grief-riddled kid in his care, but here he is, and he does care—enough that worry and fear have lived in his gut all day, enough he didn't protest when John DeWitt pushed him around and demanded answers.
Chase is quiet until he pulls up to the RV, and then mumbles, “Are you mad?”
“Not at you,” Tyler says honestly. “Come on.”
Inside, he pushes Chase into the tiny bathroom, and the boy changes as Tyler heats up a small cup of soup and a grilled cheese. He nudges Lucas to the side and feeds him a spoonful of soup as Chase fidgets.
“What you did was dangerous,” Tyler says softly.
Chase hunches in on himself. “I wasn't—”
“Chase,” Tyler snaps, “You ran away. I get you’re upset, but you put yourself in danger, and you can't do that.”
Tears gathers in his eyes, and he sniffles. “I'm sorry.”
Tyler is silent, feeding Lucas and watching him until he finally huffs. “Eat your soup and take a nap. We'll talk after you wake up.”
Chase startles, looking up at him. “You aren't going to call my dad?”
“I texted him when I found you,” he says, “You can stay here tonight.”
Tyler has a feeling that’s more because DeWitt has no idea where Tyler lives than because of anything else, like a sudden change of heart. He doesn’t care, though—there’s enough to deal with
