Chapter 13 #2
I laugh, shaking my head as I set my phone against the coffee machine and angle it toward the windows, where the morning light pours in over the Denver skyline. “Honestly, at this point, my viewers don’t care about pressure systems. They’re tuning in for updates on us.”
“Correction,” Chase says, leaning against the counter. “They might show up for the gossip, but they’ll stay for the weather. You’re too awesome for them not to become as obsessed with your updates as I am. You wait and see.”
It’s ridiculous how warm his words make me feel. My biggest champion, even when I’m joking about people only clicking for him.
I’m still smiling as I tap record. “Morning, Denver. We’ve got a cold front pushing down from the northwest this afternoon.
Temperatures are gonna drop to the late forties so it’s the perfect excuse to pull out your cozy sweaters, but don’t put those sunglasses away just yet because it’s still going to be bright out. ”
As I continue with my report, Chase strolls casually past the frame, sipping his coffee like he’s oblivious to the next tabloid headline he’s just created.
The Denver Fall Fair is less than two weeks away, and this whole fake dating thing will be over.
I should be happy. Chase said last night that he’s getting less DMs, and I’ve hardly seen any memes about him.
And I’m pretty sure we’ve convinced Ryan.
Another few weeks and it will be mission accomplished.
So why does the thought of stopping feel like a gut punch?
The department store in downtown Denver is sprawling and bright, a maze of cozy faux living rooms with curated throws and artfully arranged bookshelves.
Bedrooms in dainty prints or bold stripes.
Chase and I meander through the aisles, bickering and messing around like we’re ten years old again, being dragged to the grocery store by my mom with the promise of an ice cream afterward.
“What about this one?” I hold up a soft, navy throw pillow with tiny, embroidered stars.
He makes a face. “I mean, sure. If I was eight years old and into space themes.”
“It’s cute.”
“It’s hideous.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m discerning,” he counters. “There’s a difference.”
“OK, Mr. Discerning, how about these bookends?” I lift two sleek marble pieces shaped like mountains that would look gorgeous in the den at his house on the ranch.
“I don’t read enough books to need ends,” he deadpans before his face lights up and he’s reaching for a tacky sign that reads:
Man Cave Rules: No Rules.
“Now this speaks to me.”
“At this stage, I’m not gonna say no if it means you’ll actually agree to buy something.”
Chase sticks out his bottom lip like I’ve spoiled his game. He places the sign back. “Nah. It’s not me.”
I pause near a display of chunky candlesticks, but Chase is shaking his head before I’ve even opened my mouth.
The lightness to our steps fades at the same time as the humor.
“We’ve already walked around this entire store twice,” I say.
“Tell me about it.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “You’ve pointed out everything.”
“And you’ve said no to everything,” I reply.
He shrugs. “I just don’t know what any of this stuff is for. As long as I’ve got a bed and somewhere to sit and watch TV, what else matters?”
“This stuff is the difference between a house and a home.” I turn to face him, arching my brows.
“What?”
“Maybe it isn’t the furnishings that’s the problem.
Maybe it’s you,” I say carefully. “You don’t know where your home is.
” I watch Chase for a reaction. I love the fun we have, keeping things light most of the time, but I wouldn’t be a friend if I didn’t push him to open up sometimes too, and Chase refusing to buy anything for either his apartment or his place at the ranch is about way more than his “discerning” taste.
He shakes his head. “That’s not the reason I don’t want this stuff.
I have two homes. That’s not it,” he says, the words coming a little too fast as Chase starts to turn away.
His sign he wants to move on. Not just from candlesticks, but from this conversation.
Except I’ve known Chase long enough to know when a nerve has been hit. When to back away. When to push.
“No,” I continue. “You have two places where you live. It’s not the same thing.”
He’s quiet for a moment before he replies. “Oakwood Ranch is my home.”
“So why haven’t you bought anything for it then? It’s like you think it’s temporary.”
Chase sighs and drops onto a showroom couch in a dark velvet green, the same color as the spruce trees around the lake. It would look perfect in his den. “You really should have a conversation with the sports psychologist I talked to a few years back. You two could compare notes.”
I drop down beside him. “What do you mean?”
“She said the same thing: I can’t commit.”
“Because of your biological mom?” I ask gently, angling my body to face him.
He rubs his shoulder. “I know I should want this stuff, but it’s like there’s a block.” He sighs again. “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your time this morning.”
I slip my hand into his. Not because we’re fake dating, or to put on a show, but because I want him to know I’m here for him. “Being with you is never wasting my time,” I reply, meaning every word.
Chase leans forward, elbows on knees. “Maybe this is just who I am. I’m not good at commitment.
Jen was the longest relationship I’ve had since college and it was still only three months, and I think we both knew it was over before then.
” He turns his head to look at me. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve been fake dating my entire life. ”
His deep brown eyes soften as he continues to hold my gaze. “It feels like everyone wants the same thing—love, marriage, family. I know I joke around about being the fun uncle, but I seriously don’t think I’m built for anything more, especially the family part.”
An ache hits my chest. It’s not the pulse of want or desire, but something deeper I don’t want to think about. I ignore it and be the friend he needs instead. “Have you thought any more about trying to find your mom?”
He leans back and when he talks again, his voice is distant. “I just don’t know if she wants me to find her. If she wanted to be in touch, she could’ve found me, right? I’m on TV every week, still living at Oakwood Ranch. I’m not exactly hard to find. But she hasn’t, so what does that tell you?”
“Ignore what you think she wants. What do you want? What’s right for you?”
He exhales slowly. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like there’s something missing, like I’m not who I’m meant to be.”
“You’re one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL,” I remind him.
“Yeah, but I can feel this weight on my shoulders and in my chest—” He shrugs. “It’s hard to explain, and sometimes I’m fine and think I’m being dumb because everything is sweet, right?”
“On the surface, sure,” I say carefully. This is the most Chase has ever said about his past, and I want to give him the space to keep going.
“Surface level is what I’m good at.” He squeezes my hand before turning it over and tracing the line of my palm, reminding me of the time when Elle was twelve and we were ten and she convinced us both she could read fortunes.
She told us we’d be married one day with four children.
Chase and I had howled with laughter at how ridiculous that sounded.
Beside me, I can feel Chase closing off again, and my heart aches for him and what he’s told me. I wish I could make him see how deeply he’s loved. But deep down I know that nothing can fix the wound left behind by Leanna walking away. Only Chase can do that. If he’s ready.
His phone buzzes, and he checks the screen. “It’s Dylan.” He turns his phone to show me the message on the brothers’ message group.
DYLAN: Come to the ranch. Stormhawks business. Bring Serena if she’s with you!
“Stormhawks business? What do you think—”
“Let’s go find out,” he says, pulling me up from the couch.
Back in Chase’s truck, I stare out the window, watching the city fall away into open road and vast plains.
The horizon stretches endlessly, a soft patchwork of leaves turning from green to orange and gold.
The clouds are shifting, leaving the sun to streak through the gaps.
It’s the kind of view that makes you ache with how beautiful it is, but I hardly notice.
Because I’m starting to realize that the box I shoved all my feelings for Chase into six years ago didn’t disappear after all.
It’s just been locked up tight. And now the cracks are showing, and feelings I swore I didn’t have anymore are slipping out. And that’s a problem.
Chase might be thoughtful and protective and sexy in a way that makes me feel near feral anytime he touches me, but he’s just admitted he doesn’t want a family and doesn’t know what his life is supposed to look like.
This thing between us might be feeling less fake by the day but falling for a man who doesn’t see me as anything but a friend who doesn’t want the same things is a shortcut to another broken heart.
Suddenly the Denver Fall Fair and the end to fake dating can’t come soon enough. Because if I let those feelings out of the box and my heart ends up broken again, I know this time I won’t survive it.