Page 90 of Make the Play

“My brother pulled me out. But he… he got stuck. It took them longer to get to him. He was in the hospital for weeks. Lost his shot at playing. All because I wasn’t paying attention.”

The silence is still, but not the kind that feels empty, more like the kind that wraps around you.

“You were a kid,” she says eventually. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Tell that to the kid who still has the same nightmare fifteen years later.”

“I will,” she says softly. “And then I’ll stay right here until he believes me.”

My chest caves a little at that. Just enough to let her words in, to let her voice settle in the hollow space I hadn’t realized was there.

Zoe yawns softly into her pillow. “Get some sleep, Chase.”

And somehow, lying here in the dark, with her hand still threaded in mine and my name on her lips, I believe her.

Chapter nineteen

My girlfriend is hotter than this coffee

Zoe

Istay awake long after Chase drifts off.

His breathing is steady now, but my brain won’t shut off. Not after what he told me and definitely not after what I saw.

I knew Chase had depth beneath the chaos and that he used humor and ridiculous stunts to shield it. But this is something else, something I don’t think he’s let anyone see before.

And now, he’s just sleeping beside me. Shirtless. Solid and warm and unfairly good-looking, even with damp hair stuck to his forehead and a faint crease in his brow.

I breathe out slowly, my heart full of too many things I don’t know what to do with. Because I don’t do this. I don’t sleep next to people. I don’t share beds or emotions or broken stories.

But I’m here. He’s here. And for once, the silence doesn’t feel lonely, it feels almost safe.

I shift slightly on the mattress, careful not to wake him, trying to find a position that doesn’t make me hyper-aware of the fact that I’m in Chase’s bed with his scent in my hair and his confession still echoing in my chest.

And then, without warning, he moves.

It’s subtle, just a murmur in his sleep, a low sigh against his pillow, but his arm slides over my waist as if his body knows mine, even unconsciously, and is reclaiming it.

My breath catches, and every muscle in my body goes still as his palm settles against my stomach. Loose, not gripping. Justthere, warm and heavy and real.

I should roll away. Should put some space between us, remind myself this is fake, but I don’t.

Because the truth is, I’ve been craving this.

Not the spooning, but the stillness. The safety. The quiet moment of someone else being close just because they want to be.

After Gran died, I promised myself I wouldn’t fall apart. That I’d continue to be strong and independent. The Zoe who could handle anything, even being followed home. The girl who says “it’s fine” even when it’s not.

But I’m tired, and his arm feels like something solid to lean into. And for just one night, I want to stop fighting the part of me that misses the warmth of being held. So, I breathe out and let myself relax, just enough to settle back against him.

Chase doesn’t wake, he only shifts slightly, his thumb brushing once, then twice against the curve of my ribs. Not deliberately, just from instinct. It’s soothing.

And it works.

My chest loosens, eyes flutter shut. And I let myself drift, finally wrapped in the quiet rhythm of his breath and the steady beat of his heart against my spine.

***

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