THIRTY-TWO
SERENA
SERENA: Can you pick up?
SERENA: Chase, please call me, I really need to speak to you.
SERENA: Call me! It’s important.
THIRTY-THREE
CHASE
I leave Stormhawks Park with my head full of football. It’s the only thing I’ve let myself think about for months. Not even the thick white snow that’s fallen this week, or Christmas—usually my favorite season—could break through my thoughts. I was grateful for the Christmas Day game, keeping me focused. Keeping me moving.
It’s the only thing that’s got me through since Leanna. Since finding those damn albums she kept of me. Mama’s packed her things in the attic. We’d planned to go through them after the funeral—a quiet affair at a small funeral home in Denver. Just me, Mama, Dylan, and Jake—but I still can’t face them yet.
I’m hiding from the truth in those boxes. Just as I’m hiding from Serena. I know I’m being unfair ignoring Serena’s messages and all the years of our friendship, but every time I think of reaching out to her, I hesitate. Every time I see her, I end up walking the other way.
So I’ve done the only thing I know how to do: throw myself into the game. Like Jake always says—keep your cleats tight and your head in the game. So I have. Harder than ever. Early mornings. Late nights. Hitting the gym until the lights go out. Training until there’s no room for anything but football. Tomorrow is the final game of the season. We’ve lost three of the last four. That’s not playoff material. Nowhere close. And yet I can’t stop thinking about that one game where I wasn’t disconnected. Where I actually felt alive again. The game when Serena and I were fake dating, and it felt like she was on the sidelines for me.
The Trailblazers have crushed everyone this year. Only lost one game, and yeah, it was to us, but that doesn’t matter. They’ve locked up the AFC West, playoff place guaranteed. Tomorrow, we’re fighting the Las Vegas Desertraptors. It’s not just for second place in our division, but for the faintest shot at the final wild card. And even if we win, it still might not be enough. The Ironclads hold the better record in the AFC North. If they win their game, the final wild card spot is theirs. Which means we need two miracles: us beating the Desertraptors and the Ironclads losing.
I’m churning over these thoughts, head down, stalking toward my truck, when a voice cuts through my concentration.
“Chase.”
Like always, my body reacts before my head catches up. I turn toward the voice, unable to ignore the small, stupid spark of warmth, home, and so much more I can’t begin to name.
Then reality hits, and I remember I walked away. I stomped all over Serena’s heart. I told her we could never work. And then I spent every day of the last few months dodging her calls and ignoring her messages, keeping my head down in the corridors and on the field. Telling myself I was protecting both of us from any more heartbreak.
Our eyes meet. It’s so good to see her. She’s bundled in a dark green coat, jeans, and cute-as-hell snow boots. Her hair tied in a high ponytail, strands falling around her face. I can’t help but stare at those lips I dream about kissing every damn night.
“Hey.” Her voice is as thin as the biting cold air. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. My doing. Fuck. I hate myself.
“Hi.” The word comes out too flat. Suddenly, I’m fighting to lock down my emotions. Every muscle tightens into taut wire. Whatever this is, I’m not ready for it. “Sorry, I’m actually running late for something. I’ll call you.” The lie tastes bad in my mouth, but I turn away and reach for the door of my truck.
“Please, Chase.” She steps forward. “We need to talk.”
The pleading in her voice spears straight through me. I’ve missed her so much it makes me physically ache. My chest feels too tight, my head flooded with a thousand questions I don’t deserve to ask: Did you win the Christmas Scrabble contest again this year against Elle and John and your parents? Did Ruby and Grace like the doll house you were planning to buy them? What book are you reading? What fact did you learn today? What’s the weather doing? Are you OK? Every small, insignificant thing, I want to know it all. But I don’t get to want that anymore. I forfeited that right when I walked away. So I choke it all down.
“OK. What do you want to talk about?” Practical. Detached. Safer for us both.
She looks around the parking lot, eyes wild. Scared, I think. I take in the smattering of other vehicles and the mounds of dirty snow pushed to one side by the snow sweepers. Something in me cracks. My walls slip seeing that look in her eyes, and all the truths I’ve been barricading come rushing in. I love this woman. I love her with everything I’ve got. She’s brilliant, funny, brave, and so fiercely kind it knocks the wind out of me if I think too long about it. Those nights with her were the best of my life.
She deserves a man who never lets her go. Not someone like me.
“Serena, what’s wrong?” I reach for her, wanting to pull her close, but stop just in time, fingers clenching into a fist.
“Can we sit? Can we get a coffee?” She nods to a corner diner on a strip of shops on the other side of the parking lot.
The need to flee tugs at my heart. Coffee, talking, feeling, unraveling, is the last thing I want to do. But there’s something raw and unknown in Serena’s eyes that has me agreeing.
We walk in silence. Neither of us speak until we’re in a back booth and our coffee orders are in front of us.
“How are you feeling about tomorrow’s game?” she asks, her hands wrapping around the cup, like she’s trying to warm herself.
“Good. Focused.” My eyes drag to the door. I know I’m being restless, but it’s a fight to ignore the screaming voice in my head telling me that the best thing that ever happened to me is sitting across the booth from me right now, and I’ve ruined it.
I heave out a sigh. “What’s going on, Serena? You didn’t come here to ask how I’m feeling about tomorrow’s game.”
She stares into her cup, not meeting my eyes. I think for a moment she’s going to tell me she misses me. That she’ll do anything to go back to being friends. Hope and hurt stretch like the ache of a torn muscle through my body. I want Serena in my life more than anything right now. More than winning tomorrow. More than reaching the playoffs or holding that Super Bowl trophy in my hands. But I don’t know how to get there. How to get back to where we were. How to believe I can be the man she deserves. I’m stuck.
Except it isn’t pleading I see when she lifts her eyes to mine. It’s resolve. “I… I’m pregnant.”
The breath is knocked clean out of me, and for a second, nothing else exists. Not the diner. Not the smell of coffee. Not Serena. Then reality slams down on me.
Serena is pregnant.
This has to be a joke. She can’t be?—
I stare at her, mouth open, trying to find my voice. Even as I’m struggling to form words, to process what she’s saying, I see the shadows beneath her eyes. The pale skin. The fear etched across her beautiful face. Guilt spikes so hot it makes my mouth taste metallic. All the calls and messages I’ve ignored. The times Serena has tried to reach out. She’s been dealing with this all alone and that kills me.
“I know it’s a shock,” she whispers. “It was for me, too. I… I only found out a few weeks ago.”
I don’t reply. Can’t.
“I’m not asking anything from you.” Her voice picks up speed in that way it does when she’s nervous. “I just wanted you to know. I’m seeing my gynecologist for a scan this afternoon. You can come if?—”
I shake my head, throat closing up. I swallow. Can’t breathe. This can’t be happening. A baby? With me? God, this is exactly what I swore I wouldn’t do. I can’t be somebody’s dad. I can’t have a family.
I can’t be here.
I haul myself out of the booth. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.”
I head for the doors without looking back. Then I’m outside and the cold air burns my lungs as I heave in breath after breath. My legs carry me forward, heading in the direction of my truck. I feel sick.
For a second, I try to imagine what having a baby with Serena would look like. The house, the yard, and the toys. Family dinners. Storytimes and bath times. Playing in the lake. A whole life I never thought I’d have unfolding before me.
No.
If I stay, I will mess this up. I will be the man who pulls away when things get hard, just like my parents did. I can’t even figure my own life out, let alone raise a child. Serena deserves stability, the kind of man who shows up without question, who knows who he is. And that’s not me. Never me.
There’s the sound of a door banging behind me. Then Serena’s voice shouting my name. And I just keep moving. This is the one thing I swore I never wanted. The one thing I swore I’d never do. This is history repeating itself. My parents walked away. And that’s the only thing I know how to do, too.