Page 126 of Keep Me Never
“Chase, tough one tonight. Think this might hurt your draft options even more?”
“Looked like you were off your rhythm. What happened out there?”
“What would you say to the people who are claiming we’ve seen all you have to offer?”
“Is it true you were hurt a lot more than the reports are showing and that’s why you hardly played tonight?”
I swallow, answering the questions as calmly and respectfully as possible because that is what’s expected of me, even if these three are hoping for the opposite. They want me to crack and crumble, to show another negative, but I’ve already dug my hole and climbed in. I’m not so dumb I’d bury myself, too.
I smile and act charming, but on the inside, I’m fucking dying here.
The second Mason clamps one of them on the shoulder and pretends he’s their best friend, I push to my feet, meeting his knowing gaze as I take the exit he’s creating for me.
I go straight to the team bus, plug my headphones in, and close my eyes.
It takes a little over an hour for the full team to take their seats and then we’re on the road.
About a half hour into the drive, Fernando folds himself over the seat in front of me and tries to talk to me, but I point to my headphones and look out the window.
Mason pulls them out a minute later, eyebrows lifted. “Come on, man.”
“I just need a minute.”
“Chase, dude, you couldn’t have done anything different if you’d tried. The fact that they double-teamed you all night meant that you’re a threat. You have to know that?—”
“Mase, please,” I don’t mean to whisper, swallowing as I look away. “I just need a minute.”
The weight of his stare burns into my cheek, and finally, he relents. “Yeah, okay, brother,” he mumbles, climbing from the seat beside me and moving over next to Brady across the way.
In my peripheral, I see him take out his phone, and the smile that breaks across his face as he waves at it.
He’s talking to the girls, to his son. I should crowd in beside them, say hello, but I can’t bring myself to move.
A bit later, a message comes through from Paige, and attached is a picture of a cookie tray.
My Angel: Thought you might want to know that only Uncle Chaser’s cookie passed the Deaton inspection on Thursday. Well, and all of mine of course. No one had the heart to tell him that the cookies were inedible so we all pretended to eat one after dinner, and Brady’s mom somehow convinced him he wanted cake instead.
I chuckle lightly, warmth inching its way in.
Me: I always win, baby.
I send it, then wince, heat of a different kind flaring up my neck as humiliation breaks across my skin. I want to be a winner for her, but I feel like the biggest fucking loser right now.
I clench my eyes closed and my phone beeps in my hands again.
My Angel: I miss you.
Three simple words. Words that wouldn’t be uncommon and possibly expected when your other half is away, but that’s not what these are. This is her, proving again how in tune she is with me, even from hundreds of miles away. I want to tell her I love her, but I don’t want to risk her saying it back.
She keeps trying, but I need her to wait. I’ll be worthy of her love one day, I will die making sure of that simple fact, but today is not that day.
Me: I miss you too, Angel. More than you know. You’re the best thing in my life. Good night.
I hold my breath, watching as the three little dots pop up, disappearing a moment later only to do the same thing again. She wants to say more, to talk, maybe tell me about her day or ease into mine, but she keeps reading over those last two words, seeing them for what they are.
And when the little dots disappear yet again, I hate myself just a little more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
