Chapter 11
Exhaustion pulls at me from every direction. Everything was going well. My mind and body were weightless and balanced because of Erin.
I’ve been looking forward to seeing her since last night. Lately, it feels as though she’s beginning to get a little more comfortable around me.
I like that.
Throughout our meal, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask her if she wants to get a coffee after we’re done with lunch. Just the two of us.
And then Harry Monroe, one of the owners of Napkin Scribbles, served the tiramisu, and my mood sank like a soufflé being taken out of the oven too soon.
He went to college with Elliot. They played hockey together for a year before Elliot dropped out and threw his life away by getting involved with drugs.
Seeing Harry alive, well, and thriving is just another reminder Elliot’s gone.
It never fails—thoughts of my brother always seem to pull me under. Some days I’m almost at the surface, and then the past grabs me by the ankles and yanks me back down.
I don’t want this weight anymore. I don’t want the good things in my life to be tainted by the past.
Erin is my good thing.
I don’t want this touching her.
But letting go stirs up all kinds of wrong inside of me, like I’m spitting on Jack’s grave, dishonoring him in some way. It’s selfish.
“Hi,” Erin says from behind me. Has she been standing there watching me?
“Hey.”
We stare at each other, taking in the hum of people from inside the restaurant.
“There’s a trail,” she says then. “It’s not too far from here.
” Her voice is quiet at first, but it picks up as she keeps going.
“The full route is a bit of a trek, but there are a few shortcuts we can take that will lead us back to Main Street,” she continues.
“I was hoping that maybe you might want to come with me?”
My pulse races, wild and uneven.
Maybe my change in mood didn’t ruin lunch, after all.
She waits for me to answer, and I think it’s the first time she’s had a conversation with me while maintaining eye contact the entire time.
“Yeah, Bookworm. I’d really like that.”
She gives a subtle tilt of her head and walks over to the steps of the chalet, leading me away from the restaurant in the opposite direction we walked to get here.
We’re silent until we get to a wooden directional sign that says Welcome to Huxley Trails, pointing in the direction of a path that leads into the forest.
The walkway is wide enough for us to walk side by side. Every few minutes our arms brush, and I have to clench my fists at my sides to keep from reaching out for her hand.
She’s next to me, but it’s not nearly as close as I want her to be.
“The night we met,” I say, “you said you overheard two guys talking. Do you remember the names they mentioned?”
“Jack and Elliot,” she replies in a gentle tone.
“Elliot’s my brother,” I tell her. “He was an addict. He left Huxley Bay before I was drafted.”
I don’t know why I’m telling her this. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t look away. Maybe because when I look at her, I don’t sense that I’m broken or a poster boy for a walking tragedy. So, I let the words hang in the air between us as branches break underneath my shoes.
“Elliot got himself tangled up with drugs. And he dragged someone else into it—his girlfriend, Laurel.”
She glances my way but keeps quiet. There’s no judgement behind her eyes, just understanding.
“By the time I understood the mess he’d made, I was already trying to clean it up. I wanted to protect him.”
“Oh, Chase.” She says it with empathy, as though she knows I made a choice I shouldn’t have out of love.
“The next time I saw him,” I say, my voice rough, “he was sober and said nothing about Laurel or the drugs. It made me question my sanity, Erin, as if I’d imagined the whole thing. So, I stayed quiet.”
Erin continues to move her feet in line with mine, letting me get out what I need.
“The night Elliot died, he got into a fight at the stadium with Jack…and ran.” The words scrape against my mouth and lips, my body takes on a raw ache. I thought that, over time, talking about what happened would get easier. In some ways it has, but it’s still painful as hell.
Every time.
“Brodie and I went looking for him. When we finally found him, he didn’t look like my brother. His pupils were blown. I’m almost certain he didn’t know where he was.”
I pocket my hands that begin to tremble as images of Jack’s blood coating Elliot’s hands appear in my mind. I shake my head as if it’ll erase the memory.
“Chase.”
The way her tone gentles, as if she’s telling me it’s okay, is almost scary with how much it grounds me.
I can’t push that away.
I don’t want to.
I want her to know me.
And as much as I hate it, what happened last year is part of me.
It always will be.
“I told Elliot I’d take him somewhere safe. I didn’t know where that was. One second, he was unconscious, the next he was clawing at the door trying to get out. I saw the car too late.”
The bright headlights, honking cars, voices screaming, glass shattering, and metal scraping against concrete fill my ears. I still remember the jolt, the way my body slammed into the seat belt, just for it to jerk me back into place, before everything went black.
“Engine 45, my dad’s rig, was first on the scene.
He managed to pull me out of my flipped car, where I’d been pinned.
I was unconscious at the time. When he found out that Elliot was on the scene too, it was too much for his heart.
” My voice cracks as I press my lips together, feeling the weight of everything I’ve been holding in.
The words of my doctor take me back.
“Mild concussion. Dislocated shoulder. Broken leg. And a few fractured ribs. The road to recovery will be a long one. It won’t be easy, but if you put in the work, your body will be as it was and you can resume playing hockey. You’re gonna be okay, Chase. You were very lucky, son.”
"Brodie was pretty banged up, but for the most part, he was okay.Elliot didn’t make it. He died on the scene. And my dad… He died from cardiac arrest in the back of the ambulance."
I remember staring at the doctor who broke the news to me, wondering if I was dreaming, and if at any moment, I’d wake up to a call from my dad telling me how long it took for him to complete the crossword in the Huxley Bay Newspaper.
But I wasn’t dreaming.
I was already living what my new reality would be.
A world without my dad, brother, and best friend.
“And Jack,” I say, my voice so hoarse I have to clear my throat to get the rest out. “Jack died sometime during the night in the hospital. My brother beat my best friend to death.”
“I am so sorry,” she whispers.
“I don’t have proof, but I think everything that happened that night was a result of whatever Elliot and Laurel were involved in.
But so much about what Laurel told me doesn’t add up,” I explain.
“I’ve been trying to put the pieces together ever since.
So far, every road has been a dead end or leaves me with more questions than I started with. ”
“I know what it’s like to be drowning,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I turn to watch her as she stares at her covered hands, a tell I’ve come to understand as an attempt to hide her nerves.
“I get how hard this must have been for you to share. I’m sorry if talking about it with me brought you pain. That was never my intention. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
I capture her wrist, turning her to face me fully.
She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and it’s then that I can see that she does understand. But more swirls in them. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on with the beautiful girl standing in front of me.
I open my mouth to tell her what she’s doing to my heart when a wailing sound stops me.
“Daaaaaaad!”
My head snaps around, my eyes landing on a little boy who can’t be more than seven. He’s pointing and gawking at me with the biggest grin on his face, wearing my jersey.
A middle-aged man comes running out between a collection of trees, halting when he notices his son isn’t in any danger.
He sighs and smacks the top of his own head. “I’m so sorry,” he says, catching his breath.
“It’s not a problem.”
The discomfort fades as I squat down. The kid’s innocent joy pulls me back to a place of lightness, a moment of purity.
“Hi, buddy. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Chase.”
“Well, duh!” The little boy squeals, arms in the air, spinning around to show me my name on his back, his whole body shaking with excitement.
Erin giggles from behind me, and once again, her laughter centers me.
“I’m Riley,” he says grinning at me.
“Hey! Riley is my middle name.”
Riley lets out a whoop.
Interacting with fans, especially little ones, has always been one of my favorite parts of the job. I always try to give them time if they spot me, regardless of who I’m with or where I am.
After the accident, I thought if kids approached me, I’d have a hard time dealing with it, but I found it’s one of the only hockey-related things that doesn’t make me choke with emotion or sweat ridiculously.
I listen to Riley tell me how he’s going to play for The Tornadoes one day, and then I chance a glance at Erin. The most beautiful girl in the world is watching me, awe glimmering in her gaze as I sink down to my haunches.
After everything I just shared with her about my accident, Elliot, and Jack, I wonder what’s going through her head.
She’s nervous by nature, and I already know apart from Bella that she doesn’t have many friends. She’s wary around guys—that much is clear from how she was at Hendrick’s Bar—but these past couple weeks she’s starting to relax more.
It’s how I want her to be when she’s around me. Because, lately, her smile and laughter are what’s getting me through the day. I want to keep spending time with her, in whatever capacity I can.