29. Jeremiah
Jeremiah
I pull up and throw the car in park, needing a second to compose myself.
Last night was... unexpected.
I pinch my eyes shut as the memories rush forward, flashing in my mind.
What I did last night… with him…
The secrets we agreed to keep...
It was reckless. All of it.
I'm not the reckless type of person. Yet, since he's been back in my life, it's like I've thrown every rule I've ever lived by right out the window.
If I keep spinning out of control, I'll lose the version of myself I've been trying so hard to perfect all these years.
But—I can't help but wonder:
Would it really be so bad to lose control... if I gained him?
The sound of his building door shutting snaps me out of my head.
He steps onto the sidewalk, and my entire body goes still.
With confidence and his sunglasses low on the bridge of his nose, he strides over to me like he knows exactly how criminally sexy he looks.
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. Fuck.
Chase Rutherford. The one person I never saw coming…
Last night’s video call replays in my head like a loop: the sound of his moans, the heat in his voice, the way his body looked when he let go for me.
By the time he opens the door and slides in beside me, throwing his gym bag in the back seat, I’m already more than semi-hard.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he says, flashing that wicked smile with the sharp canines that should be illegal. Before I can even reply, he holds out a Ferrero Rocher between his fingers. “Since we’re missing our breakfast.”
I smirk despite myself, take the chocolate from his hand, and slip it into my pocket.
“Morning,” I murmur, picking up the coffee from the cup holder. “Got you this.”
His face lights up as he takes it. “Oh damn, thank you.”
I watch—no, devour—the way his lips press to the lid. He tilts it back and takes a long sip, throat bobbing with each swallow.
This is too much.
“Mmm, that’s good,” he says with a satisfied hum. His tongue darts out to catch a drop of coffee from his top lip, and I swear, I forget how to breathe.
“You gonna be alright there, Blackwood?” he teases, one brow cocked, a smug grin tugging at his mouth.
I grit my teeth and glare at the windshield, praying for restraint.
“Let’s go,” I say, low and clipped, starting the engine.
Because if I look at him one second longer, I’ll pull him onto my lap right here in the front seat.
We’re barely ten minutes into the drive when Chase reminds me just how easily he can worm his way into my head.
“You look good today,” he says, voice low and smooth, like he knows exactly what it’ll do to me.
I glance sideways, then refocus on the road. “Stop flirting.”
“I’m not flirting.” He shrugs, casual as ever. “Just stating a fact. You do look good today.”
He turns toward the window, but I catch the way his fingers tap restlessly against his thighs—quick, rhythmic, full of pent-up energy that he doesn’t know where to place. He’s like a live wire in my passenger seat. And for some stupid reason, that nervous, kinetic energy pulls at me.
I smirk despite myself, eyes still on the road.
“How’s Mia doing?” I ask.
He shifts in his seat. “She’s alright. Still missing Rachel. But she’s strong. I think she’ll be okay.”
“You think Rachel will come back?”
“I do,” he says without hesitation. “You don’t just let good things go like that. Mia’s one of the best people I know. Rachel will figure that out eventually.”
I glance at him again, and this time he’s looking straight at me.
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing. “That makes sense.”
Then, without warning, Chase leans forward and taps my touchscreen.
“Wait—no, don’t—” I reach for the console, but I’m a second too late.
The speakers crackle to life and I instantly recognize the guitar intro.
Oh, fuck me.
The unmistakable high-pitched chords of “I Believe in a Thing Called Love” explode through the car, and my cheeks go up in flames.
Chase bursts out laughing, pulling off his sunglasses. “No way. My karaoke song?”
“It’s a good song,” I mumble, trying to stay cool, but I can already feel my ears burning.
He grins wide. “Is it really that hard to admit that my amazing air guitar got you all hot and heavy?”
“Yes,” I say dryly. “Yes, it is.”
Chase cackles, absolutely delighted with himself. “Oh—wait—this is my part!”
He suddenly starts tapping his feet and drumming his hands against his thighs to the beat, singing along completely unashamed.
And maybe I should find it embarrassing. Maybe even a little cringe. Instead, I can’t stop staring. There’s something thrilling about seeing him like this—so full of life, so unapologetically himself.
I laugh under my breath, stealing another glance at him before I focus on the road. “What am I going to do with you?” I murmur, reaching over, cupping my hand around the back of his neck.
He slowly sits back, chest still rising a little quicker from his outburst of energy. There’s a flush in his cheeks and a contented smile on his lips.
“I dunno, Blackwood,” he says, eyes lingering on me. “Looks like you’ve got your shit cut out for you.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, tugging lightly at the hair at the back of his neck.
“Yeah, I guess I do.” I bite the inside of my cheek, trying not to smirk—because fuck, I’m tempted to do all the things I shouldn’t.
Every nerve ending in my body is lit up, focused on the way his hand unintentionally slides up and down his thigh, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself either.
Like he’s holding back from touching me out of pure willpower.
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll pull this car over myself, ” he says, barely above a whisper.
I drag my hand back slowly, feeling the loss of him instantly. My fingers ache to stay there, to explore further. But I grip the wheel instead and clear my throat.
“Guess we should make it to Pickleball on time, then,” I say, eyes back on the road even though I can still feel him watching me.
He chuckles, shaking his head. He slides his shades back on, turning to look out the window.
“One of these days, you’re gonna give in.”
I feel some uncertainty in his tone… but I don’t answer. I can’t.
Not because I disagree. But, because I do.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t know whether that scares or excites the hell out of me.
The gym opens right onto the outdoor courts and track, the whole complex tucked behind cedar trees.
“You ready?” I ask, looking over at Chase.
“All set.” He smiles at me, gripping the strap of his gym bag around his shoulder.
I nod and we both get out of the car.
“Hey boys.” Heather waves us over.
We walk up to them, taking in the beautiful scenery. It’s a beautiful outdoor court, surrounded by green cedar trees and even an outdoor track. Typically you have to pay country club fees to get in here so thankfully, Heather hooked us all up once she heard David wanted to change plans.
“Hey, looking good,” Theo says, shading his eyes from the sun as he looks me up and down.
“Thanks.” I smile, giving him an up-nod.
“Morning.” Chase pipes up beside me. “Where are the change rooms?” he asks, looking around.
“Over there, to the right,” Theo answers, signaling towards the building.
“Okay great. We’ll meet you guys back out here in five.” I start walking that direction.
“Perfect.” David throws the pickleball in the air and catches it in his hand. “More practice time for us.”
I shoot him a smile and Chase follows behind me as we head off back to the gym changerooms.
“Oh, Theo so wants to fuck your brains out.” Chase whispers to me as soon as the door swings shut behind us.
I cringe. “No, he doesn’t. He’s always been a flirt…even in high school.” I sit my bag on one of the benches and start unpacking my black gym shorts and matching athletic shirt.
Chase huffs out a laugh. “My point still stands,” he mumbles, sitting down on the bench, unbuttoning his shirt.
“This coming from you, who didn’t realize I was gay even after what we did in my kitchen,” I tease, gripping the collar of my shirt and tugging it up and over my head.
“Maybe I didn’t know, but my body sure did,” he says, lips twitching slightly.
I fold my shirt slowly, watching his eyes drift down my chest. Glancing around, I realize that we’re alone here—and suddenly that fact feels impossible to ignore.
“Yeah?” I murmur, setting my shirt aside and stepping between his legs. I cup his jaw, tilting his face up to mine. Tracing my fingers lightly down his throat, over his collarbone, I shrug his shirt from his shoulders. “And what’s your body telling you now?” I ask under my breath.
“You really want me to answer that right now?” His hands slide up the back of my legs and squeeze my thighs from behind.
I hear a hint of Heather’s laughter from outside the doors. They’re too close.
I step back immediately, breaking the moment. “No. You better not.”
He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh, you tease me.”
“You act like you don’t deserve it.” I smirk, unbuckling my pants.
Chase runs his hand through his hair, eyes watching me closely. “Yeah, you’re right.”
After quickly adjusting himself, he goes back to shuffling through his bag.
He gasps. “Oh no…”
“What?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans.
“What’s wrong?” I rush to him, looking in his bag too.
“I forgot my fucking shorts.” He swings his head back, defeated.
“Oh shit. There’s gotta be something in the lost and found or something.”
Chase picks his head up. “Huh. That’s a good idea. Okay, one second.” Standing, he throws back on his shirt leaving it unbuttoned and rushes out of the change room.
I go back to changing out of my pants and into my gym shorts.
Chase returns shortly after with a disappointed pout.
“I’m shit out of luck, I’m afraid,” he says, holding up a pair of obnoxiously lime green gym shorts with white trim around the edges.
I cringe. “Vintage.” I shrug, attempting to make light of the situation.
“Dear God,” he says, unbuttoning his pants. I glance away, trying to give him some privacy, as he steps into his new shorts. “Oh, this is just perfect,” voice dripping with sarcasm.
I look back at him, and immediately hold my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh.
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Be honest. Tell me how bad it is.”
The shorts are…well… short.
Truthfully, they’re not bad from my standpoint. Standing there, fit as ever with his broad shoulders and beautiful body, these tight little shorts around his muscular thighs look incredible. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind peeling them off with my teeth.
But, for a business meeting? Well…
“Dammit, you’re hesitating.” He groans frustratingly, walking back over to his duffle bag. “What am I going to do?”
I’m lost in how good his ass looks as he’s bent over his bag. This is the first time I’m seeing his body so…exposed and holy shit, it’s a sight to behold.
“Jer–”
I snap back into the moment. “Oh, don’t worry about it. They won’t even notice.”
“You think so?” He looks at me with hopeful eyes.
“Oh yeah.”
He breathes out. “Okay.” He grabs his loose, white sleeveless gym shirt and throws it on. “Let’s do this.”
We both walk out and make our way to the court. All eyes are on us as we get close.
“Chase! Those are–” Heather trails off, her eyes scanning Chase from head to toe.
“I forgot my shorts. Had to borrow these from lost and found.” Chase explains, pleading with his eyes to leave it there.
Theo’s brows raise, nodding. “Well, I love short shorts. I think it looks hot.”
Chase goes to open his mouth to say something but instead presses his lips together, flashing me a quick look.
I clap my hands together. “Well, are we going to play some pickleball or stand here all day admiring Chase’s legs?”
This earns me a laugh from David and a pat on the back. “My man. Let’s get this game going!”
The teams split—Chase and Theo versus me and David. Heather insists on keeping score for the first round.
“Don’t let the shorts distract you,” Chase whispers as we step up to the court, twirling the paddle in his hand like a damn show-off.
“You’re going down, Rutherford,” I mutter.
“Promise?” He gives a subtle, charming wink.
I shake my head as I walk to my position, making him laugh, loud and open, and it makes me stupidly happy. Fuck, that sound vibrates through my whole body feeding me life.
David serves first and the game kicks off fast. Within minutes, we’re diving for shots, ducking under rogue lobs, and swinging fastballs like this is a Wimbledon match or something. It doesn’t take me long to realize, Chase is apparently, freakishly good at pickleball.
Sweat starts beading down my spine, but it feels good. Energized.
After Chase and Theo win the first round, we decide to switch up the teams. Heather pairs up with David, while Chase and I join forces.
Taking it easier on our bosses, we start the match off playing light and easy.
“Nice swing!” Theo calls from the sideline when I land a shot.
Chase glances over just as David takes a hard return.
“Watch it!” Heather calls out. But Chase is too late, misjudging how far he has to lunge, and ends up skidding off the court.
I rush over immediately, dropping beside him. “You okay? Anything hurt?”
He’s flat on his back, paddle discarded, arms flung out like he’s ready to be chalk-outlined.
“Just my dignity” he says, groaning with a dramatic wince.
I bite back a laugh. “First the shorts, now this? Rough day for you.”
“Shut up and help me,” he grunts, holding out a hand. I grab it except he pulls, and suddenly I’m off balance, dropping down with him in a tangle of limbs and laughter.
Someone whistles, heating my cheeks. Theo, probably.
We untangle ourselves eventually, both of us red-faced and sweating for reasons only mostly related to the sport, and make our way back into position.
Chase looks back at me over his shoulder, grinning.
“You’re kind of amazing at this,” I say, low enough for only him.
“It’s the shorts, isn’t it?” he replies quietly.
I shake my head, biting back a smile. “They certainly don’t hurt.”