Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chase
There’s nothing like back-to-back home games to keep the momentum going, especially when the team we’re playing is one we’ve dominated for five seasons.
Today will be no different and they know it.
They showed up to lose, and lose they will, but I know they’ll at least put up a bit of a fight.
It’s not that their players are bad, but their coaching staff sucks and their quarterback is an arrogant prick who doesn’t have the respect of his team.
That alone will lose them many games this season.
Growing up, my mom used to silently root for the underdog, even when it wasn’t us.
She’d feel bad when we’d face a team that didn’t score a single touchdown while we popped off with many.
I used to think it was sweet, an endearing quality from a mom who knew what it was like to see her kid’s team mourning a loss.
Now I wonder if that was all part of her facade. Fake sympathy. Fake happiness.
Fake love.
I’m never getting fucking married.
“Dude.” Brady elbows me and I snap out of my thoughts, looking his way. He jerks his head to the left and I find Coach glaring at me.
Shit.
Did my professor finally tell him I was kicked out of class for “cheating”?
How do I explain that I wasn’t? Will he even believe me if I try?
I blow air out of my cheeks as I jog over, and the crease between his brows only deepens. “Coach?”
“I called your name three times. Where’s your head at?”
“I’m good, Coach.”
“No, you’re not.” This is when he tells me I’m fucked. “Take a minute. Helmet off, get some water. Ten minutes to game time. I don’t need to tell you this is a good opportunity for you to shine. Yards, yards, yards. Understood?”
My relief is instant. “Yes, Coach.”
“Go.”
I unclick my chin strap and tug my helmet off, surprised by how much I’m sweating already.
Good. If Professor Michaels didn’t say anything by now, I think it’s safe to say he won’t.
One less thing to worry about.
I drop my helmet to the turf at my feet and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t help. I snag a water bottle and close my eyes, wetting my head and face before pulling in a light breath.
If it weren’t for my mom, my dad would be here right now, sitting beside Mason’s and Brady’s dads.
He wouldn’t be stuck at home, wishing he could come watch.
The single most important thing to that man, if you asked him at any point in my life, has always been being there for me.
And now he can’t be because the woman who was supposed to love him, love me, ruined everything.
To my horror, pressure builds behind my eyes, but I clench my jaw to force it back.
I’ll fix this for us, Dad. Give you back everything you’ve lost.
Fuck, I’m supposed to be calming myself, getting in the game, and I was perfect.
I’m always good when I hit the field, but looking in the stands and seeing the parents of my best friends, their proud smiles staring back at all three of us…
I don’t know, man. This is the first game they’ve been able to come to this year, and it’s messing with me.
Come on, Chase. Don’t fuck this up. Get a grip. Fucking focus—
A sharp whistle catches my attention, and my head snaps up.
Somehow, it knows right where to go—sixty-yard line, four or five rows up.
I lock onto a dark-blue sundress and long blond hair, both her pinkies stuck in the edge of her lips.
How could such a tiny thing make such a piercing sound?
Paige smiles, her hands going up and lifting the heart-shaped sunglasses to the top of her head.
She holds my gaze, amused, and then she claps her hands three times.
I frown, and she does it again, her brow lifting.
It takes a moment, but then a broken chuckle slips free, and I shake my head.
Her hands go to her hips, and she tips her head.
Jesus, she’s serious.
I sigh, trying to school my expression. I really don’t have time for this right now.
My shoulders fall, and she lifts her arms again, clapping three times, only slower, all our friends looking at her curiously. Their gazes following her line of sight to where I’m standing, but I don’t shift my attention their way. I’d bet Mason’s mom is eating this up.
Paige gives a slow nod, as if encouraging me, and I swallow.
Fine, all right. What could it hurt?
A long breath leaves me and I shake my head in thought. “What am I grateful for in this moment?” I whisper to myself, panic slipping in when I can’t find anything.
Shit.
It’s not working.
I can’t do this.
I lift my arms as if to say, I tried. She frowns, stepping down the stands, bringing herself a little closer even though she’s still so far away.
Paige’s lips move, but I have no idea what she’s saying, and my ears start to ring.
But then she claps three times, pointing to her right.
My eyes move that way, landing on the Johnsons, Lancasters, Cameron, Payton, and of course, Little D. My family by association.
My family by choice.
Instantly, my mind returns to my dad, and while my chest squeezes in his absence, something else settles within me. I can’t name it, but I’m afraid I’ll lose it if I look away from the tiny blond thirty or so yards away.
My eyes don’t leave hers as I pull in a long breath, my rib cage shaking as I do.
“I’m grateful my dad gets to see me play, even if only on TV.
” The words leave me before I realize I’ve thought them.
The moment they do, an instant, almost overwhelming sense of determination flows through me.
“I am so fucking grateful my dad gets to watch me play today.” I clap my hands three times.
Paige’s smile is almost too much to look at, the pride there undeserved but so fucking welcome. She cups her mouth, giving a little whoop that gets lost in the noise, but I hear it on the inside. Where it matters.
I hear and I hold on to it, and then I play a game that will go down in the Avix University record books, a smiling blond flashing through my mind as I do.
The next morning, when I’m sitting on the tailgate of my truck in an empty parking lot, I pull out my phone and type a quick message before I can talk myself out of it, putting it on silent the second I hit Send.
I might regret it later, but at this moment, it feels right.
That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?
Regret never asks for permission. It just shows up, blindsiding you before you even have the chance to see it coming.
“Why do you keep looking at your phone?”
I drop it to the picnic-style table, face down, finding both my friends frowning at me over steaming hot pizza. I want to lie, but I’ve been doing that so much and I’m tired of it.
“I sent Paige a message that I’m not sure I should have.”
They grin, leaning closer.
“Not anything crazy, but maybe a little too…much. I don’t know.”
“And clearly she hasn’t said anything back?” Mason eyes me.
“Nope.”
“The girls are meeting her for a late lunch here in a bit, and I think she’s still driving in from Oceanside. Maybe she hasn’t seen it,” Brady offers with a shrug.
“I sent it at seven this morning.”
Both wince and a low chuckle leaves me.
“Yeah.” I pull a piece of pizza onto my plate, and they follow suit.
“D money, pizza time!” Brady calls Mason’s son over from where he’s been posted on a little step stool the last ten minutes, right in front of the candy claw machine.
The little guy drops to his knees, half his body disappearing into the prize hole as he grabs all his loot in the lip of his shirt, before running over and climbing up beside his dad. “Look at all this stuff!” He smiles, setting it out in a nice and neat little row.
“Dang, little man, you got two Laffy Taffys! You must be really good at that game,” Mase says, playing along.
“Yep! I think I’m the winner!” He nods, reaching out for his apple juice and picking a piece of sausage off his pizza, popping it into his mouth.
Damn, he’s the cutest kid.
“Okay, so back to Paige.” Brady lifts a brow. “Ready to tell us you like her yet?”
“Uncle Chaser, you have crushes on Auntie Paige?” Deaton asks, cheese hanging off his lip.
“No, buddy.” I pin Brady with a glare. “I don’t.”
“She has pretty hair,” D says.
Mason grins, and I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, she does. Really pretty hair.”
He goes back to ignoring us, taking a couple bites of pizza before tearing the crust off and carrying it with him back to the claw machine.
“Okay, so you may or may not have ‘crushes’ on Paige.” Brady grins, but then it falls. “But talk to us, man. What’s going on? Where you been? You ain’t home all that much, but if it’s not Paige you’re with, then who or what?”
I reach up, rubbing the back of my neck before looking my friends in the eye.
There is no one in my life I trust more than them, but to tell them my bullshit is to mess with their heads like my shit is messing with mine.
I won’t be the reason they stay up at night, and if they found out about my financial situation, they would.
They would rally and fight for me. I can’t let them do that.
I made a lot of mistakes in the past, but I’m trying to be better and that meets protecting them from the hardships that are my own.
But I can give them something. I owe them that much.
I drop my face into my hands, groaning, then look up, unable to meet their stares when I say it, my emotions thick in my throat. “My mom left my dad.”
Silence.
A broken exhale leaves me, and my leg starts bouncing. Shaking my head, I peek at them, both sitting there stunned, but worry and confusion quickly replace their expressions.
“She…met someone online, and one day my dad came home from work, and she was gone. She didn’t even leave him a note. She fucking emailed him, telling him divorce papers would be in the mail soon and that was it.”
What I don’t say is she drained their savings before she left—their savings that included the money that was set aside for my final year of college tuition.
“Holy shit, Chase,” Mason mumbles, his face crestfallen. “Fuck, man, I don’t even know what to say.”
My jaw clenches, moisture building in my damn eyes.
I’m not going to cry; that’s so…weak. “My dad is a mess. Fucking broken, man, and I can’t handle it.
Never seen him like this and it breaks my damn heart.
He’s good—a good man, father, husband. Shit, you guys know.
He never did anything without her input, bent over backward, and she just… left.”
She was supposed to love him and she left.
I shake my head. “It’s crazy because when I look back, there were no signs.
And I think that’s what’s making it so hard for my dad.
They were always the perfect couple, never fought, just like your guys’ parents.
And this shit happens. My dad isn’t doing good.
He’s depressed but he keeps telling me he’s okay and not to worry about him, but it’s a shit show, you guys.
Their divorce is nasty. She’s being unreasonable and coldhearted, taking him to the fucking cleaners. ”
“She’s asking him for money?” Brady’s tone is beat.
I look away. “She didn’t ask. She took.” I break off before I add something else—that she took all of it. “I think I hate her,” I admit quietly, maybe for the first time.
“What can we do to help?” Mason asks, both of them solemn and united in any way I might need.
My lips twitch, but I just shake my head. “I don’t know, maybe ask your parents to check on him here and there? He might hate it, but he needs it.”
“I think my dad knows,” Brady admits and I look to him, finding a sad smile. “He said something about your dad having a hard time not too long ago, but I didn’t think much about it. I’m sure he’s already checking in on him, but I’ll talk to him. Cam’s dad, too.”
“They do know she left, but maybe not all the details.” I nod. “I would appreciate that, though.”
“So our parents already know, but do you want us to keep this from the girls?” Mase wonders.
“Honestly, I want to say yeah, but that’s for my benefit, and I know you guys. You’re going to be stressing on me now, and I don’t want them to worry or for you to have to lie when they ask, so no. It’s okay if you tell them, but I’d rather not be asked about it, you know?”
My boys nod.
“Lean on us, man. If you need us, lean on us.” Brady holds my gaze until I agree. “Okay, good, so now that that’s out of the way, I have something serious I need to ask you, Chase.”
My muscles lock, and I frown from Mase to him.
Brady crosses his arms, takes a breath, and I brace for whatever he may have to say. Does he know I’m broke? Does he know that next semester—
“What exactly did the message you sent to Paige say?”
Mase and I laugh instantly, and Brady joins in.
I smirk, taking a second piece of pizza. “Nice try.”
And just like that, my world feels a little more in line.
If only it would stay that way…