Chapter 17 #2
“Is he okay?” Erin asks, and before I can say anything, my eyes latch on to our rookie, Logan, who looks like he’s had one too many shots of tequila and is about to crash right into Erin.
I pull her into my arms without thinking and spin us around, taking one step to the left, as Logan stumbles and falls to the ground.
Cackles erupt around us, but I’m only paying attention to Erin’s arms around my neck and her body pressed right up against mine. Her squeal rings out in my ear the moment she realizes what’s happened.
My mind’s consumed with one thought—how can I get this girl to stay exactly where she is for just a little longer?
Logan stands, shakes his head like a wet dog, and lets out a whoop, both fists in the air as he charges to the bar.
Stupid rookie.
“Chase?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“People are staring. Do you think you can put me down?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Oh, okay.”
Fuck. Did I say that out loud?
A quick scan of the room tells me she’s right—people are looking. I quickly move to the end of the room. Thankfully, my height allows for bigger steps. We’re behind a wall away from the noise and stares in no time.
I set Erin down and bracket her in by placing my hands on both sides of the wall by her head.
“Thanks for the save,” she says.
I’m suddenly aware that I want more of those sweet little laughs all to myself. I want to be away from everyone else for the rest of the night.
“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask out of nowhere.
Her brows pinch together.
“There’s five hours left of my birthday. Will you spend them with me? Somewhere quiet away from the crowd.”
“You don’t want to stay with your friends?” she asks, an innocence to her words that tells me she’s clearly unaware of why I’m asking.
“No, Bookworm, I want to be with you. So, what do you say we leave right now?”
Erin and I step out of Ruby Roulette and into the cool night air. The door closes behind us, and the loud music begins to fade as we walk away from the entrance.
I pull my phone out and fire off a quick text to the group chat.
WE’RE THE TORNADOES, BITCHES!
Me: @Rudy what the fuck was that?
Rudy: Sorry.
Hayes: What did the kid do now?
Me: I introduced him to Erin tonight, considering he’s been whining about how he’s the only one that hasn’t met her, and he just stared at her before walking off.
Rudy: I wasn’t feeling well. Tell her I’m sorry. She looked happy.
Oliver: You sure you’re okay, man?
Rudy: I’m fine. Just one too many drinks.
I put my phone away and shove my hands into my pockets before lifting my arm out to Erin. She loops hers through mine.
We fall into step, soaking in the fresh air and peaceful night. Apart from the streetlights that hum, there’s a comfortable silence between us.
“Do you mind if I change?” she asks when we walk through her door a little while later.
“Only if you’re gonna wear that sexy outfit you told me about,” I tease, wagging my eyebrows. She laughs, shaking her head as she heads up the stairs.
When she disappears around the corner, I chuckle to myself.
I’m falling for a bookworm.
Her every movement has me captivated—the sound of her laugh, the way she bites her lip when she’s concentrating, every one of her smiles. She holds every bit of my attention without even trying, and I can’t look away.
I don’t want to.
I’m addicted to her.
Light footsteps pad down the stairs before she appears again.
My teeth bite into the flesh of my inner cheeks when fluffy socks, black leggings, and the oversized hoodie with cat ears catch my eye. She’s radiant, comfortable, and completely unbothered.
Yep, I’m falling for her alright.
I must be, because looking at her wearing the most ridiculous sweater I’ve ever seen, she’s an absolute fucking knockout.
“Damn, Bookworm.” I whistle under my breath. “Where the hell have you been all my life?”
“You get a ten out of ten for your consistency.” She chuckles, grabbing a recipe book off the shelf above the kitchen sink.
She flicks it open with purpose, clearly knowing exactly what she’s looking for.
I’m mesmerized by the way she completes the simplest of tasks as she pulls out ingredients, bowls, and scales.
“And what are you up to?”
“Well, as you pointed out, it’s still your birthday.” She shows me a Jeremiah Dustin recipe. “Can I make you a cake?”
“That sounds pretty great.”
We fall into a rhythm as if we’ve done this a hundred times before—me grabbing the eggs she missed from the fridge, her measuring the flour. The cold air from the fridge nips at my arms just as a muffled meow comes from behind me.
I halt and turn.
“Did you just meow at me?”
Her grin stretches wide, and she presses a hand to her chest. The same sound comes again, this time more muted.
“Still think this sweater is sexy?”
“Oh, the sexiest,” I purr. “Do it again.”
She grabs a tea towel and flings it at my head.
I duck, laughing.
“Who gave you that?”
“Angela. We had an ugly sweater day at the office. Mine wasn’t quite hideous enough.”
She climbs on top of the counter and presses up onto her toes to reach the top shelf. Before she jumps down, I step closer, grab her by the waist, and lift her to the floor.
She doesn’t flinch.
Her lips pull at the corners, and there’s a subtle light in her eyes—not overwhelming brightness, just a gentle, sincere glow.
Her smile is the kind of thing you want to keep forever, as if you could reach out and touch it anytime you needed a boost. Capturing it in a picture seems too fleeting. I need it with me all the time,
Again, I get lost in her as she carries out the most mundane tasks. There is absolutely nothing fascinating watching someone count birthday candles, but somehow, when Erin does it, I’m four years old again, captivated by Milo the Magician pulling a coin out from behind my dad’s ear.
Her lips move as she counts, and her hair tumbles around her face. I can’t look away.
Her phone buzzes then, and she glances at the screen on the counter before tucking it into her pocket.
“Who’s the charmer?” I ask, instantly on high alert.
“Ro—” She cuts herself off, cheeks flooding rouge. “No one.”
I arch a brow. “Sure doesn’t seem like no one. Who’s the text from, Bookworm?”
Her bottom lip juts out, and damn, she’s cute when she’s pretending to be mad.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she mutters.
“Suit yourself.” I grab the mixing bowl and head to the bin, knowing Jeremiah Dustin would be appalled with what I’m about to do. She gasps when the lid flicks open after I slam my foot down on the pedal.
The sound ricochets off the wall. “You wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, baby, I would.”
Her eyes go wide as I tilt the bowl over the bin. The mixture begins to slide toward the edge.
“It’s your birthday present!” she blurts.
I pause. “My birthday present?”
“Yes, but you can’t see it yet. It’s not ready.”
“Did you know it was my birthday before I called you?” I ask curiously, knowing we’d only spoken about it the day I invited her to my event.
“Maybe.” She shrugs, her eyes trained on the bowl. “Now, step away from the bin and keep your hands on the bowl where I can see them, Pretty Boy.”
Laughing, I do as I’m told. She stalks over, snatches it back, and resumes stirring.
“So, when do I get this mystery present?” I ask, smiling at the fact she clearly had inside knowledge before I even called her and got me a gift.
Adorable.
When she looks up at me with that delicious dimple that should be illegal and says, “Soon,” I know it doesn’t matter what it is. Hell, it could be a jar of dirt, and I’d still treasure it forever.
“Movie?” she asks after I slide the cake into the oven.
“Always.”
She hands me the remote and settles down into the sofa next to me with a packet of Jelly Tots, a particular candy she always seems to have on her.
When I make my selection, she chuckles.
“The Mighty Ducks is a classic movie,” I say in defense.
“It is. I was just wondering if I should get my jersey.”
“You have a Ducks jersey?”
“Sure do. Dean Portman—what a guy,” she says, swooning.
“You were into one of the Bash Brothers? Huh, interesting,” I tease.
Though he’s a fictional character on a made-up team, I can’t help but get jealous at the thought of her wearing another guy’s name and number. I make a mental note to get her my jersey ASAP.
“Mr. Silver told me that when Bella was ten, she watched The Mighty Ducks for the first time and fell in love with Charlie Conway. She had posters of him everywhere and swore she’d marry him. Unfortunately, her dreams died when he told her there was a fifteen year age gap between them.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
“I think from the time I moved in till my first Christmas with the Silvers, we watched it over a hundred times. I found Conway and Portman jerseys online. From that moment on, any time we sat down to watch, we’d wear them.
” She pauses, her gaze lingering in her lap as she remembers before she turns back to the screen, as if the past is briefly holding her in place.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“I like it when you give me pieces of you, Erin. It means you trust me, and I like knowing that very much, Bookworm.”
“Sharing with you is peaceful,” she says.
Her words settle inside me, lingering longer than I expect. Maybe it’s the vulnerability in what she shared or the way her whiskey eyes seem to pull me in. Either way, I tell her, “I went to see Jack today.”
She nods at me and just waits.
“I told him how much I miss him. How I wish he was here with me and could meet the most amazing girl.”
Erin reaches out for my hand.
“Can I tell you about him?”
“I’d love that.”
“He was the life of the party. Jack never let anyone down. He was always where he said he’d be and helped everyone. He wanted to be a dad and have an army of kids. He didn’t care if they were into sports, art, or math. Just wanted them to know they were loved. That’s who he was.”
There’s a long pause. Erin doesn’t say anything, but her hand tightens around mine, her silence louder than words.
“It sounds like he knew what he wanted. Was the team as close to him as you were?” Erin asks.
“Yeah. Rudy, especially. They had a special bond. I thought he’d hate me after Jack died, but he didn’t.
He checked in on me, brought me food, and sent me funny videos.
I pushed him away the most because I thought I’d just remind him of what he lost. But he kept coming back, even while he was hurting.
He pushed his pain aside to help me, regardless of if I let him.
He stood by me and held me up at Jack’s funeral when my own family couldn’t even look at me. ”
“Rudy sounds pretty great, too.”
“I just wish Jack was out there on the ice with me, with the team. When I think about the season starting, how he won’t be there… It’s wrong.”
Erin’s hand brushes mine, but she doesn’t speak right away. There’s sadness in her eyes with the way she’s processing my words.
“It’s okay to miss him,” she says in a gentle tone. “You don’t have to be okay all the time, Chase.”
“Some days the reminders of him being gone hit me harder than most, and all I want to do is become besties with a bartender and drink until I forget.”
Erin’s palm presses into my heart.
I cover her hand with mine.
“He’s with you Eighty-Seven,” she whispers. “In here. Always. Thank you for sharing him with me. If you want to talk about him, I’ll be here if you need me.”
The sincerity in her words cracks me wide open, and I pull her into me without a single thought, burying my face into her neck.
“This is what I need from you now. Is that okay?”
“Yes.”
We sink into the sofa, her body molding against mine. I could stay like this forever.
When the oven timer beeps, she tries to pull away, but I hold her tighter in my arms and shake my head. “Let it burn.”
“Absolutely not, you monster,” she says, horrified and pushes up from me.
A few minutes later, she’s back in front of me.
“Make a wish,” she whispers.
I look at the twenty-five candles that flicker in front of her face that give her an angel-like glow. There’s only one thing I want, so I tell her.
“I want to kiss you. I want to lean in and find out what your lips taste like, but the truth is, I know you’re not ready for that yet.
I know you’re not ready for me or the potential of there being an us.
And that’s okay, because I know one day soon, you’re gonna let me love you.
You’re mine, Erin Callahan. My wish is you, and I have every intention of making it come true. ”