I just walked at his side with my hand held firm in his big, warm one and I promised myself I wouldn’t do anything stupid and dramatic. Like let my emotions and a beautiful, soul-wrenching song send me out into the night on an ill-advised walk. Which did nothing to clear my head seeing as I listened to the song that was wrenching my soul repeatedly while I did it.

In fact, I was deciding (dramatically, of course) from then on in, as we rounded the side alley to get to the back alley that led to my apartment, that I was listening to nothing but upbeat music for the rest of forever. I was so intent on deciding this that it didn’t occur to me that I wasn’t leading Chace to the alley where I lived.

He was leading me.

We’d turned into the back alley and got four steps in when we heard a crash.

Chace’s arm instantly jerked mine, pulling me back. He stepped forward and in front of me as he let go of my hand and his went to the gun at his hip.

But I saw, peering around him, a head pop up from the other side of the dumpster that was behind the Italian restaurant.

I knew that head.

“Holy frak!” I shouted. “That’s him!”

The boy from the library took off at my voice and I didn’t hesitate to take off after him.

“Jesus, Faye!” Chace roared from behind me but I kept right on going, arms pumping, feet sprinting.

I heard the beat of Chace’s boots then I saw him pass me and keep after the kid who darted around the corner of the side street. I watched Chace make the turn after him then I turned after them and saw Chace make another turn down Main Street.

I followed and saw Chace, well, chasing the kid down Main Street.

“You’re not in trouble!” I yelled. “We just want to help! It’s okay!” I kept yelling as the kid made a quick dash up a side street and disappeared, Chace still after him thus, seconds later, turning and disappearing too.

I made the dash as well and saw them racing up the side street.

Two blocks up, Chace was nearly on him when the kid put his hands to a fence, catapulted himself over and dashed through someone’s yard.

Chace didn’t delay in following him and disappearing into the yard.

Once I made it there, it took me four tries to get over that fence and I eventually had to heft my ass on it and swing my legs over. I had a feeling I tore the seat of my jeans when I did but I dropped to the other side and took off after them.

I lost them in the dark backyard, stopped and tried to listen over my labored breathing, hoping I’d hear a noise that told me which direction they’d gone.

I heard nothing.

I stayed there a long time.

I still heard nothing.

Frak!

It hit me I was in someone’s backyard after midnight and I shouldn’t be. It also hit me that Chace was chasing after some kid and not only had I lost him but he’d lost me. Therefore it hit me I had no idea what to do.

I gave it some time just in case Chace came back, hopefully with the kid so we could get him warm, fed (he was dumpster diving!) and talk to him but Chace didn’t come back.

So I quickly retraced our steps (avoiding the fence and belatedly noticing it opened at the drive and taking that route which I should have taken earlier). I went back jogging just in case Chace had the same thought as me and was headed the same way. I also did it scanning, hoping I’d catch sight of one, the other or better yet, both.

I didn’t.

What I did was go to the bottom of the stairs that led up to my apartment in the back alley, paced and waited.

I did this for about ten minutes. I had my iPod and my earphones detangled from my clothing and shoved in the back pocket of my jeans by the time I saw Chace round the corner of the side alley and prowl toward me.

Believe it or not, men could prowl. I knew this by the way he was doing it.

He was five feet away when he ordered low, angry and confusingly, “Ass up the stairs.”

“What?” I asked.

“Get your ass up the stairs, open your door, in your apartment.”

That seemed like a good idea since it would be warm up there so I turned, raced up the stairs, dug out my keys, yanked off my mittens and opened the door.

I went in and Chace followed me.

He also slammed my door.

I tossed my mittens across the room to a chair, turned to him and my first thought when I took him in fully was, Uh-oh.

“You chased him again,” he remarked quietly.

“I, uh… didn’t think.”

“Kid’s terrified outta his mind and not only did you chase him, you shouted at him.”

I pressed my lips together.

“In the dark,” Chace went on.

I shrugged my shoulders up and kept them there.

“In an alley,” Chace continued.

I made no move or noise.

“In the cold,” Chace kept going.

I dropped my shoulders and unpressed my lips but slid the bottom one slightly to the side so I could bite the end.

“After midnight,” Chace (hopefully) finished.

“Uh…” I mumbled but had no idea what to say. All that was true and, looking back, seemed more than slightly ridiculous.

“Kid like that knows this town like the back of his hand. Kid like that, fear that huge, he’ll fight and scratch and die before anyone he doesn’t know lays a hand on him. Kid like that needs care and communication. He needs to feel safe. He does not need anyone chasing him and shouting at him. He won’t hear your words, just your tone. And he’ll know what chasing means and he’ll do everything in his power not to get caught.”

“So that’s why you didn’t, uh… catch him?” I asked stupidly.

“That’s why,” he answered shortly then elaborated. “He hit the dark of that backyard, he was vapor.”

“Oh,” I whispered thinking, maybe, he was actually still in that backyard and hiding.

“Get that outta your head,” Chace broke into my thoughts. “I went back and looked. He’s gone.”

“Oh,” I repeated on a whisper, now thinking it was weird Chace Keaton could read my thoughts.

“Jesus, Faye, you want me to help this kid, you gotta help me help this kid. And makin’ him more scared is not the way to go about doin’ that.”

“Okay,” I agreed quietly then hesitantly asked, “So, um… what is the way to go about doing that?”

“I don’t know. Seein’ him, that is not a kid who’s escaped an abusive home. Or it’s not the only shit in his life. He’s terrified, of what, I have no clue. But whatever it is, it’s huge or at least it is in his head. We have to find some way to establish trust so he’ll let us approach or he’ll come forward.”

“Food,” I said instantly and his head jerked.

“What?”

“Food. I’ll put out food. And… and… a coat!” I cried. “He needs a coat. I’ll go buy him one. I’ll put it out by the dumpster.”

“Honey, he’s not goin’ back to that dumpster. Not again. Not ever.”

“Oh,” I whispered as my mind raced and I came up with another idea. “At the library. By the return bin. He returns his books. He hasn’t been back in a week because, well, I chased him last time and he hasn’t returned any books either. But he will. He always does. I’ll put food and a coat out by the bin. And… and… more books. I’ll find ones like he likes to take and I’ll put them out there. With a note telling him he can find what he needs there and if he needs anything he’s not finding, to leave a return note and it’ll be left for him.”

I watched Chace jerk up his chin before he said, “That’s a good idea.”

I grinned at him and said, “Thanks.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth, it seemed strangely that his body went still then his eyes came back to mine and he asked instantly, “Why were you crying?”

I felt my grin die and I took a step back, murmuring, “Chace –”

“Why were you crying?” he repeated.

I took another step back saying, “I don’t think –”

My heart started to beat harder when he took a step toward me and he asked again, “Why were you crying, Faye?”

I started actively retreating as Chace started actively advancing and I said, “I think I told you that’s none of your business.”

“Faye, why were you crying?”

I hit the foot stand of my bed and was forced to stop.

Chace didn’t stop until he was toe to toe with me, neck bent, eyes locked to mine.

“I’ll ask one more time, honey,” he said gently. “Why were you crying?”

I felt it prudent, considering his proximity, to answer.

So I did.

“I was listening to a song that made me cry.”

His brows went up. “A song that made you cry, leave your house in the dead of night and walk to the elementary school playground?”

To this, I offered lamely, “It’s a good song.”

His eyes moved over my face as his lips whispered, “It’s a good song.”

I held my breath unsure what was happening but I was sure what was happening to my heartbeat. It was escalating. And my skin, it was tingling. And my blood, it was firing.

I stopped holding my breath and pulled in a needed one.

Then I straightened my shoulders and said quietly, “I’m home safe now, Chace. You can go.”

His eyes came back to mine and he didn’t go.

Instead, he asked, “What song was it?”

No way in heck I was sharing that.

“Dobie Gray’s, ‘Drift Away’.”

There it was again. Another fraking lie!

His eyes lit and his mouth twitched before he asked, “The song that moved you to tears and drove you into the cold night was a song about a man who gets through by listening to rock ‘n’ roll?”

I was realizing I really needed to pay more attention to lyrics when I answered with another lie, “Yes.” Then to add validity to something that was nowhere near valid, I added, “My favorite part is when he sings while people clap.”