Chapter 5
KELLER
“What are you doing here, Chloe?”
Her smile falls at the coldness in my voice, and for a second, I feel bad. But I shouldn’t feel anything other than anger. I should be so damn mad at her that I shake.
I’m not, and I don’t.
All I feel is…well, truthfully, want. It’s all I ever feel when it comes to her. From the second I saw her walking across campus, I wanted her. I didn’t know her name, but I wanted to. There was something special about her even then that I couldn’t deny.
Imagine my surprise when I walked into my creative writing course and there she was. She was sitting next to the same girl she’d walked across the quad with, organizing her pens just so before the professor came in. It felt like fucking fate, and in some way, it still does.
It took me an entire week to work up the courage to finally talk to her, and when I did, I asked to borrow a pen. She wrinkled her brows in annoyance, then handed me one before turning back to the teacher, dismissing me. All it did was make me want to talk to her more.
So I did. I kept bothering her every class after until it became my thing.
I don’t know how, but I could tell she wasn’t as exasperated by me as she pretended to be, and even though we’re where we are right now, I’m glad I took a chance and kept at it.
Even if all those years we had together were it, it was worth it.
Please don’t let them be it, though.
I grip the door tighter, trying to fight off the urge to reach for her and feel her against me like I did last night.
Her perfectly plump lips part, and I wait anxiously for her answer.
Is she here to say we’re done? Or will she tell me she missed me and made a mistake?
Say she’s sorry? Will she beg us to go back to what we were? And would I?
It doesn’t matter, because she snaps her mouth closed again.
I sigh, cross my arms over my chest, rest against the doorjamb, and try hard to ignore how gorgeous she looks.
The light green sweater makes her brown eyes pop, and the jeans she’s wearing are doing wonders for her full figure, which has always driven me wild.
“All right. Let’s try a different question,” I say. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Mail.”
My brows draw tightly together. “What?”
“Um.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and for a second, I think she’s nervous.
But that can’t be the case. What does she have to be nervous about?
She’s the one who walked away from me. “Your birthday card. It had your address on it, and I assumed you hadn’t moved since you sent it, so I took a chance.
The guard downstairs seemed very surprised to learn you were married, and I had to flash him my ID so he’d let me up. ”
I make a mental note to talk to him later to tell him she’s always welcome here, but right now I’m focused on something else…
She got my card?
I sent it on a whim. I was at the grocery store, and they had a display for St. Patrick’s Day cards.
I stopped, telling myself I could just look at them and that was it, but then I was buying one, signing it, and dropping it in the mail to the last place I knew she was staying.
She never responded, and I assumed it either got lost or went to an old address. I guess I was wrong.
I clench my teeth at the sting of her not responding. “Well, here I am.”
“Here you are,” she echoes, then swallows roughly.
We stare at one another for several moments, and against my better judgment, I move to the side, letting her in. She hesitates for a beat before brushing past, careful not to touch me, and I don’t know if I’m relieved by that or disappointed.
I close the door behind her, resting against it as I watch her walk slowly around the apartment, taking it all in. It’s nothing compared to the home she would have made for us, but it’s the first thing I’ve ever put together on my own, and I’m proud of that.
She stops at the same picture Lawson pointed to before, the one of us at our wedding.
It was a small affair, and pretty much everyone believed we were foolish for getting married so young, especially her parents.
It didn’t matter to us, though. We knew what we wanted, and at the time, it was each other.
Standing here with her now, watching her take the photo in, I can’t tell if she still feels the same way, and I hate it. I used to read her so well. It’s weird not being able to now. When she finally turns back to me, there’s a soft smile on her lips, and I take a breath, pushing off the door.
“Do you want something to drink?”
“Um, sure.”
I nod, moving to the kitchen and pulling a Diet Coke from the fridge. I crack it open for her, just like I always used to do, before handing it her way. Our fingers brush together as she wraps her hand around the can, and I pretend the small touch doesn’t send electric jolts through me.
Either she doesn’t feel it, or she’s pretending just like I am, because she chugs half the can in one go. She lets out a small burp, her eyes widening in surprise as she claps her hand over her mouth.
A laugh chokes out of me, because for a moment, everything feels just like it used to.
Even after all our time together, she was never comfortable being anything less than prim and proper in front of me.
It never mattered to me—I would have taken her any way she came—but it was always cute when she’d slip up, then freak out.
“Sorry,” she mutters, dropping her hand, her cheeks stained red. “I, uh, I didn’t realize you’d started drinking Diet Coke.”
I don’t. I can’t stand the stuff, but it’s always been her favorite, so I’ve kept up the tradition of buying it. Sometimes I’ll have one just to remember what she used to taste like.
“Yeah, well, a lot can change in three years.”
The words come out sharper than intended, but that doesn’t make them any less true.
I think she knows it, too, if the way her smile fades and her eyes darken with sadness is any indication.
A wave of awkwardness falls over the room, and I don’t know what to say to her.
We’ve never had this before, not even when she used to pretend to hate me.
Things have always been so easy between us, but it doesn’t feel that way now.
Air gets stuck in my lungs, trying to claw its way out, and it takes all I have in me to mutter, “Bathroom,” before marching out of the room. I’m sure she’s confused as I close the bedroom door behind me, but that’s okay, because I’m confused too. About so many things.
How am I supposed to behave right now? How am I supposed to stand across from her and act like the last three years never happened? Is that what she expects? It must be, because she showed up here out of the blue and hasn’t offered even a lick of reasoning for what she’s doing in Seattle.
I march into my bathroom and turn on the faucet. I splash water over my face, needing something to cool me off since I’m suddenly feeling hot. It works, and when I’m feeling marginally better, I grab my toothbrush and get to cleaning.
Honestly, I’m stalling. For what, I don’t know.
Time maybe? A chance to figure out what to say to her?
But I’ve had a long damn time to do that.
Three years, actually, and I still don’t fucking know.
I’m not exactly sure what that means, but I do know I’ve been in the bathroom too long, leaving Chloe unsupervised in my apartment.
I finish up and change into something I haven’t been lounging around in for the last two days, then make my way back out to face my wife.
She’s standing in front of the windows that give me a beautiful view of the city.
As pretty as it is, it’s nothing compared to having her standing here, especially since I never thought she would be.
The glow of the late-morning sun radiates around her, embracing her with its warmth and giving her rich red hair an almost golden touch. She’s gorgeous, even from behind.
I’m so distracted by admiring her that it takes me a moment to realize she’s not alone.
Sensing me, she peeks over her shoulder. “You got a cat.”
I nod, closing the distance between us until I’m standing next to her and looking at my snow-white cat cradled in her arms. Traitor, I think to myself, then instantly feel bad about it. He’s not a traitor. I’m sure he’s just as enraptured by her as I am.
“What’s his name?” she asks as she runs the tip of her finger over his head. “He’s adorable.”
“Percy. He’s a rescue.”
“And his leg? What happened to him?”
“An accident when he was only a few months old. He had to have it amputated, and his original owner couldn’t handle it. I adopted him about a month after surgery.”
She smiles down at the cat. “That sounds about right for you. A knight in shining armor.”
I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia at her words.
She hasn’t called me that since college.
It was an inside joke between us when we began dating, after I came to her aid when she had a period mishap in the lunchroom.
It only got worse when she realized I not only helped her that day but also gave my own teammate matching black eyes for making fun of her.
Outside of the ice, that was the last time I spoke to Shawn. Since he’s also in the league, it’s hard to avoid him completely, but whenever we play each other, I check a little harder than necessary. He’s never questioned it. He knows what he did.
“When did you get him?” Chloe asks, dragging me back to the present.
“Uh…” I scratch at the stubble on my face that I should probably do something with. “Around two years ago now, I believe.”