NINETEEN
CHASE
The main kitchen at Oakwood smells like cookie dough and chocolate chips. It smells like my childhood, I think, breathing it in, feeling the weight on my shoulders lift for the first time today.
The second our flight touched down in Denver early this morning, I came straight to the ranch, spending most of the day holed up in my place—just me, my thoughts, and the miserable echo of a loss against the Tidalrunners I can’t stop replaying.
It was hunger and an empty fridge that had me walking up to the main ranch. Not to mention the fact that if I spent one more second in my head, I was at serious risk of ending up as grumpy as Dylan during his ACL recovery or as pitiful as Jake every time Harper leaves for a three-day book-signing tour. I love my brothers, but they both have a streak of grump in them I’ve never bought into.
So I walked over to the main house, let Dylan make me a sandwich in exchange for my help restocking hay bales in the barn. There’s something about lifting and hauling and sweating that makes the stuff in your head get a little quieter. Dylan didn’t say much, giving me my space. He’s always known when to push, and when to hold back.
And now it’s after dinner and I’m still here, sitting at the huge bench table, watching Mama and Madison work at the counter like a pair of seasoned bakers. This might not be Mama’s kitchen anymore but she’s right at home with Mad perched on a stool just like we used to when we’d help her bake. Mad’s tongue peeks out the side of her mouth as she carefully spoons dough onto parchment paper, eating as much as she’s putting down to bake.
“You sure you don’t want to add cayenne to that batch?” I call over. “Give it a little kick?”
Mama shoots me a warning look. “There’s a reason you’ve been banished to the table, Chase Sullivan.”
Madison giggles before rolling her eyes in a move so like her mom’s that I laugh. It’s the first time I’ve cracked a smile all day. The first time I’ve felt like I’ve stepped out of my own head. My thoughts leap straight to Serena. I don’t know what it means that we haven’t spoken since the fair, only that I can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t stop rewatching her morning weather report just to hear her voice.
Mama slides the last tray into the oven and claps her hands. “Alright, Miss Madison. Off you go and wash up and get your pjs on before your mom gets back from late-night shopping with Auntie Flic and thinks you’ve turned into a ghost.” Mama smiles, waving the wooden spoon at the flour Mad has spilled down her tee.
Mad leaps from the stool and rushes out of the room. I swear I’ve never seen that kid walk anywhere. I stand, heading over to the kitchen to help Mama tidy.
“You about done sulking and ready to talk about the game?” she says, handing me a dishcloth.
“Nope,” I reply, grabbing a mixing bowl that needs drying and pretending I can’t feel Mama’s eyes on me.
“It was a tough one to watch,” she says casually, like she’s talking about a TV show.
I sigh. “We just never found our rhythm. I was off. Everyone was off.”
“Mm-hmm.” Mama hands me a tray from the sink to dry. I know whatever is coming, Mama has been building to it, waiting until I’ve pulled my head out of my ass so I’ll listen.
“On your worst days, Chase, you’re still one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL,” she says. “But on your good days, you’re ten times better than anyone else. Last week against the Trailblazers was some of the best football I’ve seen you play.”
I remember the way the ball felt in my hands, the power thrumming through my body, the knowledge that Serena was watching from the sidelines.
“Right now, you’re two players,” Mama continues. “And I wouldn’t be doing my job as your agent if I didn’t tell you that it makes the coaches nervous when a player isn’t consistent. They lose faith. I don’t think you’re there yet, but you could be soon, especially with the Huberts selling a majority share. I don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen, but my instinct is always to protect my boys. Which means telling you that you need to figure out what’s going on inside your head before your worst days outweigh your best.”
I glance at Mama. Her eyes are filled with worry. She’s not judging. Just giving it to me straight. And maybe that’s why it lands like a weight right in my gut.
“I’m trying,” I say quietly. “I just… I don’t know what’s going on with me.” It’s the truth. All I know for sure is that when Serena’s watching me, whether it’s on the field or throwing the hammer down on the high striker, I feel like I matter. Like I’m seen. Invincible.
I open my mouth, about to tell Mama what the sports psychologist told me a few years ago, and how I’ve been thinking about trying to find Leanna again. For real this time. Hiring an investigator to track her down. I know Mama would support me. Help me, even. But that doesn’t make the guilt any less. Right or wrong, I feel disloyal thinking about my biological mom when the woman beside me raised me with nothing but love. I’m still searching for the right words when the back door flies open.
“Do I smell cookies?” Flic’s voice rings out as she and Izzy burst into the kitchen, arms full of shopping bags, faces flushed from the cold and still bright with laughter.
“You sure do.” Mama turns and pulls the next tray of cookies from the oven, unleashing a burst of warmth and the fresh aroma of melted chocolate. “Did you get what you needed?”
Izzy lets out a groan, dropping her bags on the bench and patting the small, perfectly round bump of her stomach. “Maternity clothes suck.”
“Yeah, but you’re not going to fit into those jeans much longer,” Flic says, kicking off her boots. “And Dylan wanted to kill any man who looked at you while you were wearing them even before you were carrying his kid.”
“My lovely husband needs to learn I can take care of myself,” Izzy retorts.
There’s a creak at the back door as Dylan steps in, kicking off his work boots. “Your lovely husband knows this very well. But perhaps his lovely wife could let him take care of her once in a while.”
Izzy laughs and walks over to press a kiss on Dylan’s lips. The way they look at each other—the ease, the love—it’s like being hit in the chest with a reminder of everything I’ve never thought I could have. My thoughts rush straight back to Serena. And once again, she’s all I can think about.
I’ve typed out ten different messages today but didn’t press send on a single one. I just can’t get over how much I wanted to kiss her on the Ferris wheel, and the kick-in-the-guts feeling when the ride started up again.
“How’s Serena?” Flic asks, like she’s reading my thoughts.
I hesitate. “She’s good, I think.”
“You think?” Flic pushes.
“We haven’t spoken for a couple of days.”
The kitchen falls quiet, and I don’t miss the confusion crossing Flic’s face. “I thought you spoke every day?”
Dylan jumps in. “At least twice every day.”
“More like five times a day,” Mama adds.
“We do. We did,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m not sure what’s going on between us right now.” I shoot a look to Mama before making a face. “I think you might’ve been right about the fake dating plan backfiring. Things are weird between us, and I don’t know how to go back to normal.”
Mama studies me for a second. “Is that what you want? To go back to how things were?”
I glance around, feeling the weight of my family’s eyes on me. “Look, I’m not gonna lie. I’m seeing her differently. But she’s my best friend and her friendship means everything to me. I don’t want to risk losing that, and I don’t know if Serena even feels the same way.”
And I’m not sure I can be the man she needs me to be, I add to myself.
Flic and Mama exchange a look.
“What?” I ask.
Mama pins her lips shut and turns back to the counter, busying herself with the next batch of cookies. I turn to Flic. She throws her hands in the air and huffs out an exasperated sigh. “Come on, Chase. You must know.”
“Know what?” I frown.
Just then, Madison barrels into the room.
Flic’s face lights up. “Hey, Mad, what did you tell me at the fair last week about Chase and Serena?”
Mad is distracted by the shopping bags at her mom’s feet, peeking inside, her words thrown so casually over her shoulder, it takes a moment to register what she says. “Serena’s in love with Chase.”
Then the words land and a noise escapes my throat. “Huh?”
“Yeah,” Dylan says. “I can see it.”
My heart is thudding too hard, too fast. This isn’t a blindside tackle I didn’t see coming. It’s being hit so hard I can’t tell which way the field’s facing anymore. “You think she loves me?”
Flic shrugs. “I don’t know how she’s feeling right now, but…”
“But what?” I press.
“There was a New Year’s Eve party years ago, after you got drafted to the Trailblazers. I was in the back by the restrooms, and I could see Serena crying. I asked her friend if she was all right. The friend clearly didn’t know I knew Serena or you, because she let slip that she’d just had her heart broken by the best friend she’d been in love with since she was sixteen.”
“And you’ve kept this to yourself all this time?” I blurt out, mind still scrambling.
“Hey, there’s a code at the bar,” Flic fires back.
“What goes on in the back of the bar stays in the bar,” Izzy adds, laughing as Dylan groans beside her and the pair share a private look that at any other time would have me teasing them to get a room. But right now, my head is spinning way too fast.
“She never told me…” I trail off. Because in the back of my mind a memory surfaces. It’s beer-hazy, the shouts of “Happy New Year” ringing out. Serena beside me. Then her lips on mine. The surprise. The heat. I told myself it was a drunken moment. One neither of us would remember and I refused to let myself think about since.
“Just because she was in love with me before, doesn’t mean she is now. We’re different now. We want different things, remember?” I look from one face to another. “What do I do?”
Dylan rolls his eyes. “Tough break, man. A gorgeous, smart woman might be in love with you and actually thinks you’re funny. That’s a real hard choice.”
“But it’s Serena,” I say helplessly.
Mama steps over and wraps her arms around me in a hug. “Only you know the answer, Chase.”
That’s when my phone buzzes. Serena’s name lights up the screen, and my pulse kicks up. Relief and longing, and something that feels dangerously close to hope, pushes to the surface. That damn voice is still in my head, telling me it can’t last. And I still don’t know—don’t believe—I’m the man Serena wants, needs, or deserves, but I’m done fighting these feelings and how much I want her.
“Chase—”
“I was just thinking about you,” I say, trying for lightness, but my voice comes out rough.
“Can you come over?”
“Sure. How about coffee and donuts tomorrow morning?”
“Right now?”
That’s when I hear the quiver in her voice. The fear wrapped in those two words. My whole body goes tight.
“What’s wrong?” I’m already moving.
“Ryan’s outside my apartment,” she whispers. “I think he’s trying to break the door down.”
“I’m on my way.” I grab the first keys I see. “Borrowing your truck, Dyl. I’ll bring it back later.”
In one second, the world narrows. I don’t think about the Stormhawks or the loss or the swirling mess in my head. I don’t think about my game or my future or the bombshell Flic just dropped. There is only Serena. I start Dylan’s truck with a roar of engine and power and drive fast. Protecting Serena is all that matters.