Page 50 of The Save

"Well, you weren'tnottrying."

He sighed, giving me that. "You already gave me the gist of all that the other day."

"Not all of it. And not like that."

Chase pushed off the wooden stand and crossed to sit next to me on the bed. "I didn't give you that card so we could have sex." He pressed his hands into his knees. "Not that I wouldn't want to. You do have?—"

"If you say a sweet, sweet ass, I'm going to walk out right now."

Chase laughed. "I was going to say you have a beautiful body."

I blinked. That was . . . unexpectedly kind. Gentle. Not at all like the comments I got from guys on campus. Was this what happened? Men grew up between twenty-one and twenty-four?

"What you said. In the parking lot. I get that."

I swallowed. "Which part?"

He turned his head to look at me. "When you said you didn't know if there was anything else underneath."

His eyes were the same beautiful blue, but there was a sadness there, rippling under the surface. Had I noticed that before?

"You say you idolized me, but I don't think that's true." He leaned back, resting on his elbows. "You always called me out on my shit."

"Math shit. That was the only kind of shit."

He laughed. "That's not true. Remember when you told me I needed to go to bed early because I had a tryout the next day?"

My face screwed up in confusion. "No. When did I?—"

"You did it all the time. I'd be there after school, you'd be making your peanut butter and honey sandwich, and you'd ask me what I was doing that week. I'd tell you I had practice or a tournament or whatever, and then you'd ask if I needed food or if I was getting enough sleep. Then you'd tell me not to be an idiot and party all weekend, or that I looked better in grey instead of black, or?—"

"Chase. That was me rambling because I didn't know how to talk to you."

He stared up at the ceiling. "I know. But it made me feel like someone cared." His tongue flicked over his lips. "It's why I came back on Saturday mornings. I liked seeing you." He turned, his eyes wide. "Not that I—I didn't think about you like that. You were younger than me, and I never?—"

I laughed. "Trust me. If anyone was the perv in our weird little world, it was me."

He watched me smooth the hem of my shirt, then smiled when I met his gaze. "When I saw you in the stands and then at Ranchman's?—"

"You saw me before Ranchman's?"

He nodded. "I saw you at every game."

Okay. That was . . . information.

"Every time I saw you, it was like something released in my chest. Like—" His expression tightened as he searched for the words. "It sounds stupid because it's not like we ever talked after I left, but it felt like I still knew you. And as you just outlined, my life is a bit shit right now. So that felt good."

I gaped at him. "Your life is not shit."

"You don't have to--"

"No, I'm serious." I spun to face him, crossing my legs under me. "You finished school. You've got a coaching job. Yeah, your family sucks, but that's not your life, Chase. You left and actually made something of yourself."

He gave a sardonic laugh. "I failed at the one thing I was good at."

"What, hockey?"

"Yeah. Hockey."

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