TWENTY-NINE
SERENA
SERENA: I’m always going to be your best friend, Chase! I’m here for you.
SERENA: Coffee at Hank’s this week?
SERENA: Did you know an octopus has three hearts and nine brains?
SERENA: I get you want some space right now, but can you pick up the phone when I call or at least message me back to let me know you’re OK?
THIRTY
SERENA
MIA: Lunch at Bill’s today. I’m not taking no for an answer, Serena!
HARPER: Please come, S! Izzy and Flic will be there. Flic has updates on the buyer for Stormhawks. I think she hears more in the bar than most of management.
SERENA: Thanks, but I’m really not feeling great today. Another time!
MIA: Incorrect answer! We get it. Chase stomped all over your heart, but a girl’s gotta eat. And I haven’t seen you in weeks.
HARPER: A girl’s gotta leave her apartment for more than just work!
MIA: Cocktails on me!
SERENA: I’m not getting out of this, am I?
MIA: NO!
SERENA: See you at Bill’s.
Time heals all wounds. Whoever said that was a big fat liar. Because it’s been six weeks since Chase and I went on our road trip, and I couldn’t even manage my Saturday morning run with Liv. She’ll be back any minute, and I’m still sitting on the couch in my pjs, too tired to even make myself a coffee. It still hurts as much today as it did then.
I stare at the laptop open on my lap, willing myself to concentrate. Yesterday, Tanya sent over the schedule for the cheer team’s charity appearances after the season ends, and it’s my job to coordinate it so everyone takes their turn. I should’ve done this yesterday in the office, but I couldn’t focus. Things aren’t much better this morning. But if I leave it until Monday, I’ll be juggling this alongside next season’s uniform budget requests.
I sigh, resting my head against the cushion and closing my eyes. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t feel so terrible. It’s like the pain of missing Chase has become a physical illness. I can’t sleep, even though it’s all I want to do. Can barely eat. I’m tired all the time, so tired I feel sick. My hair has lost its bounce; my skin is pale and dull. And the more time that passes, the worse I feel.
Outside, wet snow patters against the windows. It’s going to be another icy cold weekend. And based on the temperature drop and thickening cloud deck, we’re in for a lot more next week. The only silver lining to the mess I’ve landed myself in by fake dating my best friend is the rise in my viewing figures for Weather with Serena. Chase was right. They came for the gossip but stayed for the content. I still get the odd comment about Chase, but it’s mostly weather questions. Just like Chase predicted, the Chasing Love fans have moved on. Now people want to know what they should wear for a weekend hike, or if it’s going to feel colder than the reported temperatures with the wind off the mountains. I even had my first sponsorship call last week with a Denver tow truck company who want to sponsor a week of shows.
I wish I could feel more excited about it. But I’m so tired. I reach for a blanket, suddenly cold, and glance around the apartment and the scattering of Christmas decorations Liv and I put up. We talked about getting a tree, but it didn’t feel right. It’s the first year since I moved out of my parents’ house that Chase hasn’t come tree shopping with me, and for the last six years, with Liv too. It was our thing. A tradition like riding the Ferris wheel together at the end of the fair. He even made a special trip back from Kansas when he was playing for the Trailblazers just to help me pick out the right tree. We’d grab hot chocolates and fresh donuts from the food truck before Chase would give his assessments of each tree we passed.
That one is too sad.
That one looks like it could be trouble.
That one has anger issues.
The end result was agreeing to a tree that was way too big for our apartment, with Chase promising to help me carry it up the stairs, shouting “Pivot!” in his best Ross Geller voice, making Liv and I dissolve into helpless giggles every year.
I couldn’t bring myself to go tree shopping without him this year.
It’s impossible to believe I’ve not seen Chase properly since the road trip. I’ve caught fleeting glimpses of him on the field at home games, my eyes betraying me every time, magnetized to the cut of his shoulders, desperately hoping he’ll turn, just once, and look my way. That something will pass between us, and he’ll remember what we had. Even if that’s just the nineteen years of friendship before we crossed the line. But he never did, and it only made it harder.
The apartment door bangs open and Liv bursts into the apartment, red-faced and heaving for breath. “Oh my God, it’s freezing out there.” She blows on her fingers as she kicks off her sneakers. “I need coffee so bad. You want one?”
I shake my head.
Liv narrows her eyes as she pads into the kitchen. “Have you even moved since I left?”
“I’ve been working,” I reply. “Or trying to.”
“Staring at your phone waiting for Chase to magically text you back, more like.”
I cringe. She’s not wrong.
Liv disappears into the kitchen, returning with a mug of coffee a few minutes later and sinking onto the couch beside me.
I sigh, closing my laptop. “It’s been six weeks, Liv. And not a single word. I thought maybe once the dust settled, he’d reach out. Agree to have coffee. Something. But the silence—” My throat tightens. “It’s killing me. I know he ended things, but I didn’t think he was ending our friendship.”
She’s heard me talk about this over and over but her expression still softens. “I’m sure that’s not what’s happening. But you can’t keep putting your life on hold waiting for him. He asked for space, and I get that it hurts, but you’ve got to start doing things for you again.”
“It’s not just me I’m thinking about though.” I twist my hands together. “I know he’s in a bad place. Finding out Leanna loved him from afar but never reached out has messed with his head. He spent his whole life telling himself she didn’t care. Now he doesn’t know what to believe. He feels like he didn’t try hard enough to find her. That’s a lot of guilt to carry.”
Liv sighs. “Yeah, which is why he wants space right now. And you know he’s OK, right? You’ve been speaking to Mama?”
“Yes.” I think of what Mama said on our call last week. How Chase has barely come up for air. Living for the game, shutting everything else out. He must be feeling the pressure to win on top of everything else.
The Stormhawks have just three games left in the season. They’re currently third in the AFC West with the Trailblazers and the Las Vegas Desertraptors ahead of them. They need to keep winning to stand a chance of reaching the playoffs, either by winning the AFC West or as a runner-up with the best win record and securing one of three wild cards given. Both routes feel impossible right now, considering the low morale hanging over the whole team.
Last week, Don Hubert gathered us all—management, coaches, the team, and the cheer squad. Even the grounds staff. Calling us all together and confirming the rumors. The Stormhawks are in financial difficulty and have sold a majority share to an outside buyer. The speech was designed to be reassuring. A rally call to show the new buyer the magic they’ve bought into. Except it had the opposite effect. Everyone is scared for their jobs. Uncertainty seems to hang in the air every time I set foot in the stadium.
“I ache to be there for him, Liv,” I murmur. “Even when he doesn’t want me.”
She sets her mug down, eyes locked on mine. “I know you do. But you can’t lose yourself while he’s figuring himself out. Why don’t you come shopping with me and Jensen today? Help me decide what to put on the wedding registry? Jensen is no use. He just tells me to get whatever I want.”
“What a bastard,” I mutter, making Liv laugh, and even I crack a smile.
“A change of scene will do you good,” she sing-songs.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’d only be a third wheel. Besides, Mia’s invited me for lunch with Harper, Flic, and Izzy.”
“That sounds like fun,” Liv replies. “As long as you’re not going just to find out how Chase is doing.”
“I’m not,” I reply, even though it feels like a lie. I’m desperate to hear from Harper and Izzy. I know Chase will be putting on a brave face for Mama, but if anyone knows how he really is, it’s Jake and Dylan.
“Right then,” Liv says in her best no-nonsense voice, nudging my leg with her foot. “Get up. Get in the shower and get out of this apartment before I have to stage an intervention. I swear you’re going to fuse with this couch if you spend any more time wallowing on it.”
“Watch it, or I’ll be bringing this couch to your wedding as my plus one.” I pull myself up, because despite the jokes, Liv is right. Getting out today is the answer. I’ve been spending too much time by myself in this apartment. I glance around, aware of the spaces on the bookshelves and the boxes in the corner.
Liv has been packing up her things this week, moving a few boxes at a time, as if doing it slowly, I might not notice. It isn’t going to make saying goodbye any easier when she leaves for the last time.
It’s another reminder I haven’t looked for a new roommate yet. The lease is up in a few weeks, and the landlord wants to know if I’m planning to renew. The truth is, I don’t know what I want. I’m twenty-eight. Still single. Still a million miles from the dreams of a future I can’t begin to face right now.
“I’ve seen couches move faster than you, S,” Liv shouts after me, and I manage a laugh and head for the bathroom. I need to get a grip.
Today, I’ll have lunch with my friends. I’ll put on lipstick and blow dry my hair and I’ll wear my favorite cream sweater. I’ll listen to Flic’s gossip, and laugh at Mia’s jokes, and I’ll hear from Izzy and Harper how Chase is doing, and I’ll pretend like I’m not completely shattered inside. Because time doesn’t heal all wounds. But maybe a burger and a margarita with my friends can at least help me breathe again.
I push open the heavy wooden door to Bill’s and the familiarity wraps around me like a hug I didn’t know I needed. The place hasn’t changed in years—cozy booths upholstered in worn leather line the walls. The wooden floors gleam under the soft glow of vintage pendant lights, and smoky mirrors reflect the colorful rows of liquor bottles behind the bar that’s three deep with city workers every evening. Black and white photos of old Denver hang proudly on the walls, giving the space a timeless charm that always makes me feel like I’ve come home. The air is thick with the rich scent of sizzling burgers, fresh bread, and something cinnamon-spiced from the dessert counter that usually makes my stomach grumble on cue. Today, I feel nothing. No appetite. Just a hollow ache under my ribs.
The smiling ma?tre d’ gives me a cheerful wave. “Serena! It’s been too long. Booth’s ready.” He motions toward the corner where Mia, Harper, and Flic are already huddled together, halfway through cocktails and deep in a conversation that sounds like it might involve dramatic re-enactments.
Mia is mid-gesture, arms flailing, when she spots me. She jumps to her feet and nearly knocks over her drink. “Well, look what the heartbreak dragged in!” She flashes a wide smile, flicking her braids over her shoulder.
Harper is next, rushing me with open arms, tiny next to my height; in a cashmere sweater and skirt, she’s a walking example of this season’s must-haves. “God, we’ve missed you! You look?—”
“Don’t say it,” I warn, but it’s too late.
“—a little like roadkill,” Flic finishes, giving me a wink before her eyes soften, her expression asking me if I’m really OK. She’s wearing black, as usual—a low V-neck sweater and black jeans. Both skintight, showing off a figure that looks like she must spend hours in the gym, when I know for a fact she works too many hours running The Hay Barn to take spin classes.
Harper snorts. “In a cute, effortlessly chic way, obviously.”
“Obviously,” I throw back. “When is roadkill not effortlessly chic.”
We laugh, and I roll my eyes in mock offense, when really their banter hits me harder than I expected. Jokes and cocktails and hugs that squeeze tight are exactly what I need.
I take a seat, and Flic slides a margarita toward me. “We got you your favorite.” She leans in. “I told them to add an extra shot. Felt like you might need it.”
I smile gratefully and stir the drink with the straw before grabbing a glass of water from the jug on the table. I don’t tell my friends I’m not feeling great. They’re already worried enough. I’m sure once I’ve eaten, I’ll feel better.
Harper leans in, taking a sip of her Moscow Mule. Her face turns serious as she asks, “How are you? Really?”
The truth squeezes my throat. “It’s been hard. I miss him.” I don’t need to expand on who I mean or what happened. Through the messages flying between us, they’ve got all the details from me, and probably from Chase too, if not directly, then through Mama, Dylan, and Jake.
I hesitate, not wanting to ask the question desperate to escape, then asking it anyway because it’s killing me not to know. “How is he?”
There’s a moment of silence, then Flic replies. “He hasn’t been into the bar for weeks. Not even after games.”
All eyes turn to Harper. If we’re putting her in a difficult position by talking about her brother-in-law, she doesn’t show it. “On the surface he seems fine. He’s been showing up to dinner with weird-ass desserts and trying to act like everything’s normal. Playing silly games with Mad. The usual Chase. But it’s like he’s putting on a show. Jake says he’s never seen Chase like this. Hyper-focused on football. Not letting anyone in. Not talking about what’s going on inside his head. He said when Chase has had tough times in the past, he’s always pulled through quickly.”
“But then he’s always had Serena by his side,” Mia adds.
I blink away the burn of tears from the backs of my eyes. “I’d still be there for him if he’d let me. I… I wanted to be. But he just shut me out. I’ve messaged him too many times to count, but he never replies.” I sigh, tucking my hair behind my ears. Despite the blow dry it’s still feeling limp. “I guess I’ve been trying to accept the fact that he might not want to even be friends with me anymore.”
Flic gives a furious shake of her head. “There’s something seriously wrong in a universe where the two of you are not best friends.”
“I’m sorry,” Harper says then. “I should never have suggested the two of you fake date.”
“It’s not your fault,” I reply. “It was bound to happen at some point, right? Him and me? I mean, I’ve been in love with the guy since like forever.”
Mia gasps. “Forever, as in, in high school?”
I make a face.
“You never said,” she replies. “What about when I dated Chase?” It’s Mia’s turn to cringe, no doubt remembering the two weeks they tried to be an item before realizing they were better off as friends.
“Killed me,” I reply honestly. “And I never said, because… I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Which is exactly what’s happened. But even though I’m devastated, I don’t regret it. Being with Chase… even for a short time, it made me realize how bad my dating life was before. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to put myself out there again, but when I do my standards are going to be sky high.”
“As they should be.” Harper smiles then checks something on her phone. “Izzy just sent a message. She’s on her way. Told us to order her a burger.”
The server comes to take our order. The others rattle off burgers and fries without hesitation. I stare at the menu longer than I should, the words swimming a little. Nothing sounds good. I settle on a salad, a side of fries, and a sparkling water.
Izzy arrives alongside the next order of drinks. She’s glowing. Six months pregnant and her small perfectly round bump is being shown off in a tight red top, stone-washed jeans, and her usual tan cowboy boots. Her dark blonde hair is tied in a loose braid and swinging down her back as she waves a hand in greeting, weaving around the tables to reach us as the other hand rests protectively on her bump.
“Sorry I’m late! I have to pee every five minutes these days. Dylan’s threatening to buy me a travel potty.”
We laugh and scoot over to make room. Our food arrives as Izzy is mid-conversation, talking about her pregnancy. Her cravings, the weird dreams, how Dylan got emotional over a baby sock in a department store last week. The joy pours out of her. And I’m happy for her. I am. But it still stings. Izzy is living the dream I’ve never felt further from in my entire life.
The others dive into their food, throwing out tidbits about their lives. Mia’s plans for an engagement party after her long-term boyfriend, Edward, popped the question over a candlelight dinner at Denver’s finest restaurant.
“Do not even ask me when the wedding is going to be. I’ve barely got my head around wearing this rock on my finger and planning a party.” She laughs, showing off a huge Tiffany ring.
I pick at my salad and fries, nothing tasting right. It’s so unlike me. Breakups in the past have left me binge eating carbs and sugary treats. The thought itches at the back of my brain alongside a vague sense that I’ve forgotten something important. That something is off.
Harper turns to Flic. “Have you heard any gossip at the bar about the new Stormhawks owner?”
Flic shrugs. “Not much. It’s a private buyer, someone from New York who apparently doesn’t know a damn thing about football.”
We all groan.
“If he ever sets foot in The Hay Barn,” Flic mutters darkly, “I’m pinning his ass to the wall of shame.”
The conversation veers into bar gossip and landlord woes. Flic mentions she has to get back soon—they’re short-staffed and her rent’s gone up again so she can’t afford to hire anyone new. She scoots out of the booth, and we all hug her goodbye. She promises to update us if she hears anything.
Only after she’s gone do I feel Izzy watching me. “You OK, Serena? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Just tired. It’s like I can’t get enough sleep but it’s all I want to do. I’ll get over it. And today has really helped.” I paste on a smile that feels brittle.
Izzy raises a brow, her smile widening. “You’re not pregnant, are you? I felt like I’d had the life sucked out of me in my first trimester. I swear I couldn’t even walk up the stairs without needing a nap.”
Harper laughs. “You better not be, Serena. Jake’s getting baby fever. I swear, that man can’t pass a stroller without cooing like a grandma.”
We all laugh.
“Don’t worry. I’m just pathetically heartbroken.” Except, even as I say the words, it’s like the world is shifting beneath my feet, and my laughter dies in my throat.
I haven’t seen Chase in six weeks. Not since we had the best sex of my life. Since then, I’ve felt sad, then tired. Then nauseous. Not wanting to drink my iced coffees or any of my usual treats.
It’s like?—
I can’t be?—
It hits me. The feeling I’ve forgotten something rears to the front of my mind.
Izzy’s voice echoes in my mind. You’re not pregnant, are you?
No.
No way.
Except…
Shit.