Chapter 20 Violet
Chapter twenty
Violet
If someone had told me a year ago that I’d be here watching Gracie play with our CEO, Chase Knight, I’d have told them to lay off the devil’s lettuce.
But here we are.
In the distance, Gracie is warming up with her team, weaving between colored cones, her blonde ponytail swinging as she jogs. The sun is hanging low in the sky, radiating that magical golden haze of late spring and early summer.
Gracie’s head jerks in a double-take when she spots Chase and me approaching. She nudges her best friend, Gabi, murmuring something that makes Gabi’s eyes widen as she gawks at us from a distance. Meanwhile, Gracie saunters toward us, an enormous grin firmly in place.
“Hey, Vi,” she says, her eyes practically imploding with questions. Her curious gaze flicks to Chase, and her smirk widens.
I gesture between them, trying to communicate with my eyes for her to play nice. “Gracie, this is Chase. Chase, this is my little sister Gracie.”
Chase hits her with his most charming smile, a dazzling flash of white teeth, momentarily even disarming Gracie.
“Yeah, we met,” Chase says, a twinkle in his eye. “Gracie runs the best door security in town. No one is getting past her.”
“Well, Vi is in high demand,” Gracie says, flashing me a wink. “I’m always turning people away.”
My face heats instantly. “Gracie!”
“I bet she is,” Chase says, his smile turning downright sinful as he watches me squirm.
Gracie giggles, her work here clearly done, then pivots as her coach’s whistle cuts through the air. “Gotta go. See you later.”
“Jeez,” I say as I watch her sprint away. “When she goes to college, there will be no one around to embarrass me anymore.”
“I’m sure I can pick up the slack.”
“Don’t even think about it.” I smile.
“Oh, I’m thinking about it, Violet,” he murmurs, his gaze dragging over my face. “Most of the damn day. And night.”
I squint up at him, the sunlight behind casting a sharp glow around his frame like he’s been cut from light and shadow.
My chest tightens, that constant knot of uncertainty winding even tighter.
My instincts tell me to keep my barriers firm, but another part of me, the one that leans into his touch without thinking, isn’t so sure.
I swallow hard and glance away, pointing to a grassy bank further down. “Let’s sit over there. It’s got a good view.”
As I lead Chase to the bank, he rests his hand on my lower back; the touch making my stomach flutter.
I find a quiet spot, and as soon as we sit, he moves closer, his fingers brushing over my knee like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Every chance he gets, he touches me, his hand ghosting over my arm, his thigh pressing against mine, the constant hum of awareness crackling between us that I like a lot more than I care to admit.
I wave when I spot Gabi’s mom on the other side of the field, surrounded by her posse of soccer moms, every single one of their eyes eating up Chase.
Not that I can blame them. He’s sitting here like he is posing for a high-end cologne advert, his sleeves rolled up, tanned forearms flexed, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.
Thank the lord, they don’t know why his tie is currently discarded somewhere on his desk because, then, they would have something to be jealous about.
“I’ll go get hot dogs,” I say, jumping to my feet, keen to avoid their watchful gazes.
Chase shakes his head. “Sit, I’ll go.”
“It’s really not a big deal—”
“Violet,” he says low enough to send a shiver down my spine. “Sit down.”
I do. But not without a huff as I slump back down, folding my arms, aware it’s pointless to argue.
He smirks, his lips brushing my cheek. “Just let me look after you.”
Hell, can he quit being so goddamn charming? I can’t cope with all these lingering touches. My body is on the verge of meltdown as it is. I’m one smoldering gaze away from ripping off his Loro Piana shirt.
I smile to myself as every soccer mom’s head swivels when he walks by. There’s no way he doesn’t notice—no wonder his ego is massive.
On the field, Gracie is taking practice shots, her face set with determination. From what I can tell, she seems to like Chase, and she’s no pushover. Her opinion means everything to me.
My gaze drifts back to Chase, standing in line at the food truck, waiting patiently.
I can’t imagine he does that often, not with his lifestyle.
He catches my eye and smiles—one of those rare, unfiltered ones.
The kind that strips away all the arrogance and hard edges, leaving something genuine beneath.
And for a second, I see the version of him I glimpsed in New Paltz—the one I could so easily fall in love with. It’s unsettling. Because I’m pretty sure this is casual. Everyone knows Chase doesn’t do relationships.
I rip my gaze from Chase when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Hi, Violet, I thought I’d see you here today.
” I look up, shielding the sun from my eyes with my palm, to see Danny smiling down at me.
He’s the coach for a rival team in Gracie’s league, so I often come across him at the games.
We dated back in high school, but there are zero hard feelings.
We were just kids who grew up and moved on.
“Hey, Danny. Oh, so it’s your team we’ll be beating today,” I grin.
“Oooh, fighting, talk straight off the bat. I like it.” He laughs, his gaze flicking to the space next to me. “You on your own today? No Seb, I see.”
Before I can answer, Chase reappears, handing me a hot dog and a napkin. His expression is neutral, but the slight crease in his brow gives him away.
“Thanks, Chase.” I take the hot dog, sensing the shift in atmosphere immediately. He doesn’t acknowledge Danny—just studies him with that cool, assessing gaze that makes people squirm.
“You two know each other?” Chase asks, stepping in just a little too close, his sheer presence enough to make Danny edge back. His Brooklyn accent, usually controlled, slips out thicker now—rougher like it does when he feels challenged.
Oh boy, could this be any more awkward?
“Erm, yes, this is Danny. He’s the coach from the rival team and an old friend.”
“I see. Fraternizing with the enemy.” Chase says, his tone flat, humorless.
Danny and I both force out awkward laughs, trying to lighten the mood, but Chase’s posture doesn’t budge.
“Well, technically, I’m her ex-boyfriend.” Danny nudges me playfully, oblivious—or reckless. “You know, the one who got away.”
Dear Lord, does Danny have a death wish?
I let out an unhinged snort, half amusement, half panic. With the tension rolling off Chase, I might have to smuggle Danny out of New York under the cover of darkness.
“A long time ago,” I clarify quickly, though it seems like pouring gasoline on a fire. Desperate for an escape, I check my watch and hold it up like a lifeline. “Shouldn’t you be heading to the field, Danny?”
“Ah, yeah. Good point.” He finally picks up on the atmosphere, his smile faltering. “Nice seeing you, Vi. Catch you later.” He throws a polite wave in Chase’s direction before hurrying off, brow furrowed.
I take a dramatic bite of my hot dog, desperate for a switch in conversation. “Mmm. So good.”
Chase settles beside me, his smile tight, his eyes still tracking Danny’s retreating form. “Nice that you’re on such friendly terms with your ex.” He snaps his teeth over his hot dog like he’s imagining it’s Danny’s head.
I roll my eyes. “It was high school. Young love, all that, you know.”
His posture finally relaxes, but his gaze lingers on me. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love before.”
The admission blindsides me like he just dropped a bomb in the middle of our conversation. How can he never have been in love? I suck in a deep breath—wrong move. A dry chunk of bread lodges in my throat, and I start coughing violently.
Oh God. Is this how I go? Choking on a damn hotdog? People being forced to leave flowers for me at the hot dog truck.
Chase reacts instantly, patting my back as I wheeze, his jealousy flipping to concern. “I’ll get you some water.”
I shake my head, eyes watering. “No—” I cough. “I’m good.”
I’m thankful for the distraction when the game finally kicks off.
The game is fast and furious as Gracie’s team slugs it out with the opposition. Chase leans back on his elbows, watching with easy interest. “I used to play,” he says after a while. “A lot of the time, the game ended in fights.”
I glance at him, surprised. “Really? You played soccer?”
He grins. “When I wasn’t getting into trouble. The games were fun, but the wild parties after? Even better.”
I let out a laugh. “So let me get this straight. You were a reckless troublemaker, getting into fights and partying—but you also got into Stanford on a scholarship?”
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “I knuckled down at the right time. Plus, my grandma wasn’t about to let me screw up my life. She kept me in line.”
I file that away, surprised by how much I like the idea of him as a reckless teenager with someone in his corner, pushing him toward more.
Gracie’s team gets possession, and within seconds, she streaks down the field, her foot connecting with the ball in a clean, powerful strike. It soars past the goalie into the net.
I leap up, cheering, fists in the air. Chase watches me with amusement as I sit back down, still buzzing.
Before I can settle, he pulls me between his legs, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist. His head drops to my shoulder, his lips brushing just beneath my ear. “You’re sexy when you’re excited.”
“Shut up,” I murmur, but I don’t move. His arms tighten slightly, and I let myself sink into him, the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart against my back.
The game continues, but for a moment, I don’t care.
Because here, with Chase’s breath at my ear and his arms around me, everything feels right.