The need to flee tugs at my heart. Coffee, talking, feeling, unraveling, is the last thing I want to do. But there’s something raw and unknown in Serena’s eyes that has me agreeing.
We walk in silence. Neither of us speak until we’re in a back booth and our coffee orders are in front of us.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow’s game?” she asks, her hands wrapping around the cup, like she’s trying to warm herself.
“Good. Focused.” My eyes drag to the door. I know I’m being restless, but it’s a fight to ignore the screaming voice in my head telling me that the best thing that ever happened to me is sitting across the booth from me right now, and I’ve ruined it.
I heave out a sigh. “What’s going on, Serena? You didn’t come here to ask how I’m feeling about tomorrow’s game.”
She stares into her cup, not meeting my eyes. I think for a moment she’s going to tell me she misses me. That she’ll do anything to go back to being friends. Hope and hurt stretch like the ache of a torn muscle through my body. I want Serena in my life more than anything right now. More than winning tomorrow. More than reaching the playoffs or holding that Super Bowl trophy in my hands. But I don’t know how to get there. How to get back to where we were. How to believe I can be the man she deserves. I’m stuck.
Except it isn’t pleading I see when she lifts her eyes to mine. It’s resolve. “I… I’m pregnant.”
The breath is knocked clean out of me, and for a second, nothing else exists. Not the diner. Not the smell of coffee. Not Serena. Then reality slams down on me.
Serena is pregnant.
This has to be a joke. She can’t be?—
I stare at her, mouth open, trying to find my voice. Even as I’m struggling to form words, to process what she’s saying, I see the shadows beneath her eyes. The pale skin. The fear etched across her beautiful face. Guilt spikes so hot it makes my mouth taste metallic. All the calls and messages I’ve ignored. The times Serena has tried to reach out. She’s been dealing with this all alone and that kills me.
“I know it’s a shock,” she whispers. “It was for me, too. I… I only found out a few weeks ago.”
I don’t reply. Can’t.
“I’m not asking anything from you.” Her voice picks up speed in that way it does when she’s nervous. “I just wanted you to know. I’m seeing my gynecologist for a scan this afternoon. You can come if?—”
I shake my head, throat closing up. I swallow. Can’t breathe. This can’t be happening.A baby? With me?God, this is exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do. I can’t be somebody’s dad. I can’t have a family.
I can’t be here.
I haul myself out of the booth. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
I head for the doors without looking back. Then I’m outside and the cold air burns my lungs as I heave in breath after breath. My legs carry me forward, heading in the direction of my truck. I feel sick.
For a second, I try to imagine what having a baby with Serena would look like. The house, the yard, and the toys. Family dinners. Storytimes and bath times. Playing in the lake. A whole life I never thought I’d have unfolding before me.
No.
If I stay, I will mess this up. I will be the man who pulls away when things get hard, just like my parents did. I can’t even figure my own life out, let alone raise a child. Serena deserves stability,the kind of man who shows up without question, who knows who he is. And that’s not me. Never me.
There’s the sound of a door banging behind me. Then Serena’s voice shouting my name. And I just keep moving. This is the one thing I swore I never wanted. The one thing I swore I’d never do. This is history repeating itself. My parents walked away. And that’s the only thing I know how to do, too.
THIRTY-FOUR
SERENA
“Chase, wait!” My voice cracks, but he’s already shoving through the door of the diner.
I fumble for my bag with shaking hands, shoving out of the booth so fast the table jolts. My legs feel unsteady, but I force them to move. I should’ve gone to the ranch last week. Or knocked on his apartment door. Done this some other way. Some braver way. But I was scared. Terrified of this exact outcome.
So I hid. Holed up over Christmas with my family, letting their warmth wrap around me like a blanket. They’ve all been brilliant. Elle promising to raid her attic for baby clothes if it’s a girl, Mom and Dad telling me they’ll help with childcare when I go back to work, both of them hugging me so tight I thought my ribs would crack, whispering how much they love me. But they weren’t the one person I had to tell.
By the time I push through the diner door, tears are already burning down my cheeks. Chase is moving fast, long strides, shoulders tense, already halfway to his truck.
“Chase!” I call again, catching on a sob. I will him to stop. To turn around. To sweep me into his arms and promise me it’s going to be OK. In the fantasy I’ve barely let myself think aboutthis week, Chase would kiss me, deep and searching, before asking me what I need, then slipping his hand through mine and never leaving my side.
Instead, Chase doesn’t even slow, and the hurt threatens to split me wide open.