Page 39 of The Book Club Boyfriend
“Doesn’t bother you?” I ask.
He lifts his own water and takes a slow sip. “Used to them.”
I don’t know why I stay. Maybe it’s the storm. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m already awake. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s not beinginsufferablefor once. Either way, I find myself leaning against the counter beside him, staring out into the rain-soaked night.
We stand in comfortable silence for a while, just listening.
Then, out of nowhere, I hear myself say it.
“I grew up in Chicago. About three hours from here.”
He turns slightly, giving me his attention.
I don’t know why I keep going. I shouldn’t keep going. But the words just… come.
“This place—the rental house—it’s the last place I remember my family actually being happy.” I exhale slowly. “Before the divorce, before everything fell apart… we had one last summer here.”
Chase doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t make a joke or some sarcastic remark. He justlistens.
And somehow, that makes me keep talking.
“I was thirteen. I remember my mom playing music while she cooked breakfast. My dad actually laughing. My brother and I sneaking down to the beach at night, thinking we were getting away with something.” I swallow. Exhale. “It was the last time we all felt like a family. The last time I believed in that kind of thing.”
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged, but not uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry,” he finally says, his voice quiet.
I shrug, stare down at the water glass in my hands. “It was a long time ago.”
A beat. Then—
“I was playing in a tournament,” Chase says, so suddenly I almost don’t register it.
I glance at him, confused. “What?”
He exhales and places his hand on the counter. “When it happened. My brother Owen’s accident.”
My stomach tightens.
He hasn’t talked about his brother much—just the brief mention of him earlier, the fact that he’s in a wheelchair. But now, there’s something heavy in Chase’s voice. Something unspoken pressing at the edges of his words.
“I was sixteen,” he continues, eyes fixed on the window. “Off playing in some stupid tournament, doing what I loved, while back home… my little brother’s life was changing forever.”
I hold my breath.
“When I got back, nothing was the same. The house was different. The way my parents looked at me was different. Not because they blamed me—they never did—but becauseIdid.” His fingers tighten around the counter. “I wasn’t there when he needed me.”
“That’s not your fault,” I say quietly.
He lets out a slow breath. “Yeah. People say that a lot.”
My chest aches.
Not because I pity him—Chase Remington would probably slug me if I did—but because I understand.
The weight of something you can’t change. The way one moment can fracture everything you thought you knew. The way it lingers, no matter how much time passes.
I don’t know what to say. So I just stand there, letting the rain fill the silence between us.
