Chapter 44
I don’t know, Zoe,” Tremaine says to me. We’re standing on the landing outside Chase’s apartment at The Lair. “You’re welcome to come to my place and listen for the elevator. But Lisa swears she hasn’t seen him.”
Lisa is the pretty concierge who’s probably sick of my drama. “Can you just call me if you hear from him? Especially if there’s any ‘Hallelujah’ on the terrace.”
He gives my arm a squeeze. “Will do.”
I ring for the elevator again and ride down, dejected. And when I reach the street, I head back toward my place on Eighth, alone.
I’ve been looking everywhere since Chase took off. He got a head start, because it took me a minute to change out of my costume and collect my skates. First I checked his place, and then my place, and then his again. And now I’m just confused.
Bess doesn’t know where he went, either. “But don’t worry, honey. Chase isn’t a venter, he’s a brooder,” she told me when I called. “He’s had a lot of loss to process in his life, and sometimes it takes him a moment to make sense of things. But he always comes around.”
He’s right to be angry, though. I didn’t tell him about the job, because I didn’t know how to make it a fair decision. I don’t want him to sacrifice anything for me.
I don’t want him to feel obligated.
Just as I’m climbing the stairs in my building, my phone rings. I pull it out eagerly. But I don’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Zoe? This is Harp down at the bar.”
Oh no. “Is there a problem?”
He chuckles. “I’m not really sure. But Chase came in a super-tight shirt, like he’d just been out clubbing, and now some guys are buying him beers. So it’s more like I’m anticipating a long night ahead. Do with that what you will.”
We hang up, and I head over there.
Just like the first time Harp called me, though, I’m not sure what I’ll say. I was wrong, and I don’t know how to make it right.
I walk in a few minutes later and scan the room. But I don’t see Chase anywhere.
“Don’t panic,” Harp says, ducking under the bar to greet me. “You’re going to want to see this.” He beckons.
I follow him a few paces toward a booth in back, and suddenly his warning makes sense. Chase is seated on one side of the booth, and there are a lot of empty beer glasses in front of him. A startling number.
Even more startling? Three of the beer bellies are seated around him—the same men who caused us all the trouble back in January.
“Buddy, I think you can work this out,” one of them is saying. “Women don’t always understand us.”
“They use a lotta words,” another one says. “Big words. Long words.”
“Do you think she loves you?” the third one asks. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who ended up on the floor that night. “Like—really loves you? Even when you’re not wearing that shirt?”
Chase scrubs a hand across his face. “Yeah,” he says. “She does. That’s why this is so fucked up.”
“Is she the kinda chick who’ll love you even when you don’t have those abs?” one of them asks. “Gotta say, that kind of woman is a keeper.”
“Yeah,” Chase says, sinking farther into the booth. “I know.”
Harp taps me on the shoulder blade. “Think you can take it from here?”
“I’ll try. Chase? Honey?”
Four heads swivel in my direction. And then one of the beer bellies whistles. “Wow, Merritt. She’s come to claim you. That’s a good sign.”
Chase looks up at me with tired eyes. “Zoe. I panicked again. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I insist. “I wanted to tell you about the job, but I didn’t know how. He’s using me, Chase. To keep you.”
He looks down into his beer. “I realize that. Bess is blowing up my phone.”
“Um, guys?” I say, waving a hand at the table. “Any chance I could talk to Chase? I think it’s important.”
“I suppose,” the ringleader says, sliding out of the booth. “Be easy on him. He plays Washington in two days, and we need that win.”
They make themselves scarce, and Harp clears away the empties. Then I slide into the same side of the booth as Chase and take him in. He looks like a runway model at the end of fashion week, all half-lidded eyes and beautiful exhaustion. “You okay?”
He nods. “Those guys aren’t so bad. They like me now that I remembered how to score. They bought me beers and told me not to panic.”
“I’m sorry I screwed up,” I say. Then I reach for his hand, terrified that he’ll pull it away.
But he doesn’t. His fingers close around mine. “What were you thinking? How can we outwit Sharp if we don’t work together? Are we a team or not?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Then how could you hide this?” His blue eyes get sad. “That’s just not fair. Haven’t we had enough of letting other people manipulate us?”
“I didn’t know what to do, Chase! I want you to have all the choices you deserve. I didn’t want you to make a sacrifice based on the manipulations of the slimiest man in sports.”
He lifts my hand and kisses my palm. “Zoe, that should be my choice. I thought we were in our honesty era.”
“I want that,” I say, feeling my throat closing up.
“But it’s hard, Chase. I’m not used to having a confidante.
And you’re not, either. Tell me this—” I reach over and tug his shirt a little, making the collar stretch.
“How’d you really get that scar? Bearing in mind that there aren’t many sharks in Minnesota. ”
His eyes flip up to mine. “Shit.” He looks away. “My father. He attacked me with a broken beer bottle when I was thirteen.”
I can’t hold back my wince. “Oh God.”
“He was…” Chase seems to grasp for words. “Awful. Abusive. I’m glad you never met him.”
Something clicks. “He died recently? And left you a few thousand dollars?”
“Uh, yeah.” Chase gives me a sheepish look. “It’s been a terrible year. I hadn’t spoken to him in years, but it still hurt me a little. I can’t even say why.”
“It’s almost like there’s a reason you have trust issues.”
He gives me a slow smile. “We’re quite a pair.”
“Both a little broken around the edges,” I agree. “You hid it really well from me, Chase. When I met you, I thought you had the whole world figured out.”
He drapes an arm around my shoulders. “Sometimes I thought I did. I was wrong.”
I lean my head against his sturdy body. “I love you. And next year I want to be wherever you are. I just don’t know how to get there.”
“We want the same things.” He tugs me closer. “Then let’s make this easy. Sharp is a bastard. But I still want to play for that asshole next season.”
“Even if Montreal offers you a fortune?”
He kisses my temple. “Yeah, maybe even then. Money is not my problem, Zoe. It hasn’t been for years. And if you can’t find a job that uses all your skills in Montreal, what good is an extra couple of million?”
I make a noise of disbelief. An extra couple of million.
“Besides—I like it here. I don’t want to start over, unless it’s with you. Was the job offer decent?”
“It was better than decent,” I grumble. “That’s why it’s so hard to discuss with you. I want it.”
“Badly,” he guesses.
“Yes.”
He strokes my hair. “Then let’s make that happen. I have an idea.”