He motioned for the cameraman to follow him, turned his back on the teleprompter and the foreboding sensation twisting around his spine. He worked his way toward Beau Bradford—the cornerstone of his distraction. A firm handshake brought Beau in front of the camera. A quick question about the best part of the obstacle course outside granted Beau a reason to stay. And revealed unexpected information, including Beau’s involvement in designing the individual obstacles.
“If you designed the obstacles, you must have tried each one already.” Chase’s smile widened. Now he’d maneuver them both into the perfect distraction. And his reading disability would remain hidden like always. “Which one is the hardest?”
Beau scrubbed his hand over the back of his hair, disrupting the curls. “I haven’t tried the course yet.”
“Perhaps we could change that this morning.” Chase lifted his shoulders and spoke into the camera, adding interest and speculation to his voice. “A trial run before the course opens to the teenagers.”
“Yeah.” Beau’s fingers stilled on the back of his head and his arm lowered. Laughter and anticipation flashed into his gaze. “You know, it’s meant to be a race. The obstacle course has two sides.”
“I’d heard there is some good competition out there warming up now.” Don’t. That word echoed inside his head. Another silent order from Nichole. But Nichole understood him like no one else. She’d recognize the difficult position he’d been put in.
Beau grinned. “But if I’m going to do a trial run, I’d like to choose my competition.”
“Anyone you’d like to compete against?” Chase looked at the camera as if requesting suggestions from the audience. Inside, his inner competitor raised his hand and jumped up and down. “I’m sure we can find someone willing.”
“You.” Beau pointed at Chase.
Chase wanted to point at Wesley and celebrate. Operation Distraction worked. He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m on emcee duty.”
“Surely we have a stand-in.” Beau looked around the studio. “It’s just one race.”
The onlookers and crew cheered. The frazzled producer woman gave Chase a thumbs-up. Chase faced the camera. “I’m getting the all clear. Looks like Beau and I are heading to the obstacle course. Stay tuned.”
Chase turned off the microphone and handed it to the cameraman. Wesley raced to his side, shook hands with Beau and the trio walked out onto the field. Cheers sounded from the participants and camp attendees. Teammates called out odds and favorites, Beau or Chase for each of the different obstacles.
“Want a rundown of the course?” Beau asked.
“Can’t hurt.” Chase lifted his foot, grabbed his ankle and stretched his thigh, then his other leg. Beau described the course. The high-level details gave enough information for Chase to build a contingency plan for his shoulder. He’d rather dislocate his shoulder than divulge his dyslexia to the public. In a perfect world, his shoulder would hold up, his distraction would capture the good kind of attention and his image would remain fully intact.
The world wasn’t perfect.
Four obstacles into the course, Chase’s shoulder cursed him and his so-called ideal distraction. He’d finished the balance beams without jarring his shoulder. The abrasive landings on the dozen jumps from one solid wooden leap pad to another had trembled along his nerves. He’d relied on his good arm and legs for the wall climb and the rope swing. Now he caught his breath and glared at the long mud crawl under a set of heavy, thick ropes. A ball pit, tire run and net climb still waited on the other side. Beside him, Beau gained ground after faltering on the wall climb. Around the stadium, spectators shouted advice and encouragement.
Chase dropped onto all fours, sank into the mud and army crawled under the first rope. His shoulder throbbed. He tightened his core, transferred more weight to his legs. He’d always preferred physical pain over the frustration of reading. And reading to an audience would’ve been a new level of torture. Chase gritted his teeth and pushed forward. He cleared the last rope and shoved himself out of the mud.
Wesley jumped up and down, cheering near the end of the ball pit. His shout splintered above the others. “You got this, Dad.”
Chase concentrated on Wesley and the pride on the boy’s face. Letting down Wesley became unacceptable. Being called Dad in front of an audience energized him like nothing he’d experienced before. Chase launched into the ball pit and sprinted through the tire run. Wesley paced him on the edge of the course, shouting his praise and approval. Chase filled his lungs at the net climb and willed his shoulder to cooperate for one more obstacle. Adrenaline and Beau’s presence propelled Chase up the rope wall. At the top, he collapsed onto the slide, slid to victory at the bottom of the fifteen-foot drop and accepted an enthusiastic hug from Wesley.
“I’ve been challenged.” Preston Park, Chase’s stand-in emcee, thrust the microphone at Chase and beamed. “Your turn to commentate.”
Preston ran off to join Elliot at the starting line. Behind the duo, more retired and current players paired off to run the course. Volunteers wove camp attendees between the players, making introductions and allowing the players and teens to strategize together.
Chase rubbed the mud from his face and rallied past the intense ache in his shoulder. Later, after the adrenaline rush and inside the privacy of his own home, he’d give in and call JT for an emergency physical therapy session. And remind himself he wasn’t qualified to be a dad.
But on the field, inside the Pioneers’ stadium, he had to be the version of Chase Jacobs that everyone expected. They’d settle for nothing less. He turned on the microphone, grinned at Wesley and continued the rest of the morning off script.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Nichole walked into their small kitchen, crossed her arms over her chest and eyed her son. Mud coated
