Page 43 of The Book Club Boyfriend
I shrug. “No, it’s self-care.”
Scarlett smiles, like shewantsto be mad, like shewantsto push me away, but she can’t quite fight it.
Because she’s tired. Because she’s frustrated. Because, whether she likes it or not, sheneededthis—needed to get out of her own head for a few hours.
I watch as she picks up her fork, scoops up an obnoxious amount of whipped cream, and takes a bite.
Her eyelids flutter slightly, a small sound of reluctant approval slipping from her lips.
I grin.
Chapter Fourteen
Stay inYour Lane
Scarlett
I agree to go to the dog park for one reason and one reason only—Rip.
It has nothing to do with Chase. Nothing to do with the way my stomach twisted when he texted me, “Rip wants to go run. You coming?” Definitely nothing to do with the way my fingers hesitated over my phone before I typed back a reluctant, “Fine.”
It’s because I love Rip. That’s all.
The park itself is more of a winding trail than a fenced-in enclosure. It stretches along the dunes, weaving through shaded pockets of oak trees where the air is cool and damp, smelling of moss and old leaves. The trail is a mixture of packed sand and pine needles that muffle our footsteps, while wild blackberry bushes crowd the path in places, theirthorns catching at our clothes.
When the trees finally part to reveal the lake, the temperature drops by five degrees instantly. The breeze carries the sound of waves and the faint diesel smell of a distant freighter, mixing with the fresh water scent. It’s beautiful and peaceful—the perfect place for a person to clear their head. Or, in Rip’s case, to sprint at full speed like he’s being chased by demons.
He takes off the second Chase unclips his leash, a blur of golden fur and uncontainable energy.
“Wow, does he have an off switch?” I ask.
Chase smirks, watching his dog bolt down the trail. “Only after he’s burned through an entire tank of gas. Then he naps like the dead.”
I hum, adjusting my sunglasses as we start walking. The sun is out in full force today, the air warm but not too humid, the scent of fresh pine and lake breeze filling the air. It should be relaxing. It should be exactly what I need to clear my head.
But my brain won’t shut up.
I keep thinking about the past few nights, sharing ice cream and pancakes and late-night conversations.
I hadn’t planned to let my guard down. Hadn’t meant to tell him about my family or how this beach town is the last place I remember my parents being truly happy. But Chase had just… listened. No teasing, no witty comebacks—just quiet, genuine understanding. And then, before I could process that, he told me about Owen.
The way his voice had gone rough when he admitted he wasn’t there when his little brother’s life changed forever. The guilt he carried. The way he tried to play it off, but I could still hear it in his voice.
We’re the same, I’d thought. Both of us running from things, both pretending we don’t need anyone.
And that realization had scared the absolute hell out of me.
Because if Chase and I are alike, then maybe—just maybe—I could be wrong.
Wrong about love. Wrong about connection. Wrong about everything I’ve built my career preaching.
No. I shake the thought off before it can take root.
“Earth to Calloway,” Chase says, nudging my elbow. “You good?”
I blink, jolting back to the present. “Yeah, fine.”
His eyes flick to mine, assessing. “That was the least convincing answer I’ve ever heard.”
