“Chase,” I say quietly. “I don’t know how he’s going to react. He’s always said he wasn’t built to have a family. What if he thinks I did this on purpose? That I skipped my pills to trap him?” My stomach rolls with nausea and fear. I’d never do that to him. The last thing I ever wanted was to give him one more reason to run away from our friendship.
“I know Chase has been going through a lot, but he’s a good guy, Serena. One of the best. You know that better than anyone. That’s why you fell in love with him. Focus on that version of him. And talk to him. That’s all you can do.” She jumps up from the couch, returning a minute later with a tub of ice cream and two spoons. “Well, that and eating this.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, shaky but real, as I take the spoon she offers.
If only it was as easy as Liv makes it sound. How do I tell my best friend I’m carrying his baby when he won’t even pick up the phone or reply to my messages?
THIRTY-TWO
SERENA
SERENA:Can you pick up?
SERENA:Chase, please call me, I really need to speak to you.
SERENA:Call me! It’s important.
THIRTY-THREE
CHASE
I leave Stormhawks Park with my head full of football. It’s the only thing I’ve let myself think about for months. Not even the thick white snow that’s fallen this week, or Christmas—usually my favorite season—could break through my thoughts. I was grateful for the Christmas Day game, keeping me focused. Keeping me moving.
It’s the only thing that’s got me through since Leanna. Since finding those damn albums she kept of me. Mama’s packed her things in the attic. We’d planned to go through them after the funeral—a quiet affair at a small funeral home in Denver. Just me, Mama, Dylan, and Jake—but I still can’t face them yet.
I’m hiding from the truth in those boxes. Just as I’m hiding from Serena. I know I’m being unfair ignoring Serena’s messages and all the years of our friendship, but every time I think of reaching out to her, I hesitate. Every time I see her, I end up walking the other way.
So I’ve done the only thing I know how to do: throw myself into the game. Like Jake always says—keep your cleats tight and your head in the game.So I have. Harder than ever. Early mornings. Late nights. Hitting the gym until the lights go out. Training until there’s no room for anything but football.Tomorrow is the final game of the season. We’ve lost three of the last four. That’s not playoff material. Nowhere close. And yet I can’t stop thinking about that one game where I wasn’t disconnected. Where I actually felt alive again. The game when Serena and I were fake dating, and it felt like she was on the sidelines for me.
The Trailblazers have crushed everyone this year. Only lost one game, and yeah, it was to us, but that doesn’t matter. They’ve locked up the AFC West, playoff place guaranteed. Tomorrow, we’re fighting the Las Vegas Desertraptors. It’s not just for second place in our division, but for the faintest shot at the final wild card. And even if we win, it still might not be enough. The Ironclads hold the better record in the AFC North. If they win their game, the final wild card spot is theirs. Which means we need two miracles: us beating the Desertraptors and the Ironclads losing.
I’m churning over these thoughts, head down, stalking toward my truck, when a voice cuts through my concentration.
“Chase.”
Like always, my body reacts before my head catches up. I turn toward the voice, unable to ignore the small, stupid spark of warmth, home, and so much more I can’t begin to name.
Then reality hits, and I remember I walked away. I stomped all over Serena’s heart. I told her we could never work. And then I spent every day of the last few months dodging her calls and ignoring her messages, keeping my head down in the corridors and on the field. Telling myself I was protecting both of us from any more heartbreak.
Our eyes meet. It’s so good to see her. She’s bundled in a dark green coat, jeans, and cute-as-hell snow boots. Her hair tied in a high ponytail, strands falling around her face. I can’t help but stare at those lips I dream about kissing every damn night.
“Hey.” Her voice is as thin as the biting cold air. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. My doing. Fuck. I hate myself.
“Hi.” The word comes out too flat. Suddenly, I’m fighting to lock down my emotions. Every muscle tightens into taut wire. Whatever this is, I’m not ready for it. “Sorry, I’m actually running late for something. I’ll call you.” The lie tastes bad in my mouth, but I turn away and reach for the door of my truck.
“Please, Chase.” She steps forward. “We need to talk.”
The pleading in her voice spears straight through me. I’ve missed her so much it makes me physically ache. My chest feels too tight, my head flooded with a thousand questions I don’t deserve to ask:Did you win the Christmas Scrabble contest again this year against Elle and John and your parents? Did Ruby and Grace like the doll house you were planning to buy them? What book are you reading? What fact did you learn today? What’s the weather doing? Are you OK?Every small, insignificant thing, I want to know it all. But I don’t get to want that anymore. I forfeited that right when I walked away. So I choke it all down.
“OK. What do you want to talk about?” Practical. Detached. Safer for us both.
She looks around the parking lot, eyes wild.Scared, I think. I take in the smattering of other vehicles and the mounds of dirty snow pushed to one side by the snow sweepers. Something in me cracks. My walls slip seeing that look in her eyes, and all the truths I’ve been barricading come rushing in. I love this woman. I love her with everything I’ve got. She’s brilliant, funny, brave, and so fiercely kind it knocks the wind out of me if I think too long about it. Those nights with her were the best of my life.
She deserves a man who never lets her go. Not someone like me.
“Serena, what’s wrong?” I reach for her, wanting to pull her close, but stop just in time, fingers clenching into a fist.
“Can we sit? Can we get a coffee?” She nods to a corner diner on a strip of shops on the other side of the parking lot.