Chapter 9 Chase
It’s been three days since I last saw Erin, and I can still smell her peaches and mango shampoo as if she’s sitting right next to me, luring me to her with the pull of a siren.
She barely uttered a word at Roman’s Little League game, but she clapped and cheered for his team along with everyone else.
We’d spent the entire day together, and it was…
nice. So nice that days later I’m walking the streets of Huxley Bay on my way to Bakes by the Lakes still thinking about her.
The girl whose scent I can’t get out of my head. The girl I’m dying to kiss.
It’s early, I know.
But for the first time in months, my mind isn’t stuck on hockey or this off-the-books investigation.
It’s refreshing.
And I know it’s not about sex. I haven’t been with anyone since before the accident—I haven’t wanted to—but it’s more than that.
When I think about her, I want to get to know her. I want to know what makes her laugh, what makes her smile, and what she loves to do besides getting lost in books. I want to know everything I possibly can and then some. And for some reason, it feels like I might explode if I can’t.
I don’t have Erin’s number yet. Bella’s offered it a few times. A younger version of myself would have snatched it up and fired off a text immediately, but Erin deserves more than that. I don’t know why, but I want to earn every single part of her.
I sound pathetic, but I don’t care.
The smell of freshly baked pies attack my senses when I push open the door to Bakes by the Lakes. It does nothing to wash away her scent, the fruity tropical mix that clung to my skin after I showered at her place.
I turn on instinct.
In the corner of the café, Erin sits with a book in her hand. An empty coffee mug and a packet of Jelly Tots rest on the table beside her.
She’s perfect.
She told me about her interview at Hendrick’s Bar. I know it’s today, but she didn’t say what time it started.
I purchase a pie, two coffees, and walk over.
“Fancy seeing you here.”
Her head lifts, and her eyes widen slightly, not in shock, but in a soft, delighted surprise.
There’s a spark of recognition and warmth behind each flutter of her lashes.
And when I place the mug in front of her, her mouth curves upward in a slow, unrestrained smile, the kind that feels immediate and heartfelt.
Worth every cent.
“Chase, hey.” She closes her book and picks up her mug. A second later, she does that same shimmy I saw her do when I was at her door a few days ago.
I love that movement.
“Thank you. I was about to order another.”
“You’re welcome. Did you have the interview yet?”
She sighs. “Yep, and it was horrible.”
“I’m sorry, Bookworm. Tell me what happened.”
“He wasn’t ecstatic by the fact that I never went to college,” she says sheepishly, her head dipping.
“After I moved in with the Silvers, I opted for homeschooling and started volunteering at W&B when I was fifteen. With my dad’s help, at seventeen, I was getting paid to do little bits,” she says, setting down her mug.
“When the time came for college, I didn’t want to go.
I knew I wanted to stay with W&B. Dad’s friends at the company took a chance on me.
I was offered in-house training and professional development coaching, which eventually got me the role I have now as a marketing manager. ”
“You’ve been working for the biggest publishing house in the city since you were fifteen and this bozo is worried about a missing piece of paper with some grades on it?”
Her eyes glimmer with gratitude, as if she thought I’d judge her.
“I don’t have a college degree, either. I went straight to the league at eighteen. I’ve done okay without it, and it looks like you have, too.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Is the work incident the only reason you want to leave?”
She blows out a raspberry that has me fighting a grin.
She’s fucking adorable.
“Before that factored into my decision, new management took over. There’s been budget cuts, and it’s gotten a little toxic. I read somewhere that if you wake up wanting to come home before you’ve even left, it’s a sign it’s time to go.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“You want to quit playing hockey?” she asks quietly.
My brows pinch together.
“At Hendrick’s Bar, I overheard two guys talking about whether or not you’d be playing in the upcoming season,” she adds. “They mentioned some…people.”
My jaw locks together because I know whoever she overheard talking had most likely mentioned Jack and Elliot.
“I’m sorry.” She glances away. “I didn’t mean to upset you or pry. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”
“You didn’t Google me?”
She shakes her head. “It felt personal and not a story Google should share.”
There are plenty of articles that could have told her what happened and why my return was being questioned.
She could’ve checked. Anyone else would have.
I like it way more than I should that she didn’t.
“The quitting I was referring to was about the time I worked at a pancake house when I was a teenager. I only lasted two hours and forty-five minutes.”
Erin throws her head back and laughs, and it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. A sound I want to keep hearing over and over. Somehow, it makes me comfortable enough to be a little honest with her.
“I’m currently out on injury,” I find myself saying voluntarily.
Not exactly the whole truth. But not a full lie, either. On paper, I am out on injury.
“Are you alright?” she asks, immediate concern coating her gentle features.
“Yeah,” I say, the curve of my lip is weak. I don’t tell her how much it’s messing with my head, or how uncertain I am about the future. But I realize there’s a part of me that wants to, that being around Erin makes me want to share things, things I’ve kept buried for too long.
It’s foreign but…freeing.
“Do you have plans tomorrow?” I ask her.
Hesitation envelopes her face. The war raging behind her pupils is evident as I wait for her to answer.
“Just lunch plans with Brodie and Bella.”
“Can I come, too?”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.”
A pang of disappointment hits.
She doesn’t get it yet. Not that I should expect her to. I haven’t even told her how much I’m enjoying spending time with her. But two days in a row? It’s a start. So, I consider that a W.