“What?” Nichole followed his restless path across the porch and back.
“They wouldn’t let Wesley on camera. Something about waivers and release forms needing to be signed by a guardian or parent, then legal needed to get involved.” He picked up one of Wesley’s baseball caps from the side table and traced his finger over the faded Pioneers’ emblem. His voice as worn as the rim on the hat. “Wesley called me his new dad. I couldn’t disappoint him.”
That sealed the bond. It was mutual between Wesley and Chase. Nichole sidestepped that disaster and concentrated on Chase’s version of the morning. She said, “But...”
“But I couldn’t read the script on the teleprompter. It was scrolling way too fast and I didn’t want to ask them to slow it down so I could read it.” Anger and frustration tinged his admission. He tossed the baseball cap on the table and continued his restless movements. “So, I went off script.”
“And ran the obstacle course.” He’d always chosen physical pain. Nichole wanted to reach for him, hold him until he lowered his guard. Until he let her in. Then promise he’d always be safe with her. But she was afraid she wouldn’t be enough. She was only one woman in his world—a world filled with spotlights and so many adoring fans.
“It was my shoulder or my reading. You know I hate reading out loud.” A bleakness outlined Chase like a second shadow, exposing his inner fear and turmoil. “I chose the shoulder.”
Nichole wanted him to choose her. She wanted to choose him. Impossible. She’d decided in the beginning no amendments would be accepted to their arrangement. She couldn’t change the terms now. Couldn’t allow hearts and emotions to undermine their deal. She also couldn’t leave him. Not like this: in pain and alone.
Upstairs, she heard the shower turn off and Wesley thumping around his bedroom.
“Let’s go.” Nichole grabbed the ice pack, opened the screened door and motioned into the backyard. Chase followed her around the side of the house and into the driveway. She opened the passenger door of Chase’s truck. “Get in and give me the keys.”
“Why?” He eyed her, then the front seat of his truck, but never moved.
“Because I’m driving.” She held out her hand.
“Where?” He clutched his keys.
“You should just give her the keys, Chase.” Wesley dragged his suitcase across the gravel driveway and paused beside Chase.
“I should?” Chase widened his stance as if joining forces with Wesley.
“She always wins.” Wesley wheeled his suitcase into his leg as if he intended to use his luggage for a chair to observe their standoff. “Especially when she gets like this.”
“We’re going to my grandparents and you’re coming along.” Nichole picked up Wesley’s suitcase and tossed it into the back seat of the truck. “Your truck fits tall people better than my car.”
“Cool.” Wesley climbed into the back seat. “Chase, you get to have Great-gramma’s apple pie and meet Great-granddad’s horses.”
Nichole held her palm out and stared at him.
“I can stay here.” Dark circles filled in his skin underneath his eyes. He’d hate that she noticed.
She disliked his misplaced pride. She shifted into her authoritative mom stance. “You’ll get in the car and put the ice pack Wesley got you on your shoulder.”
Chase obeyed.
“She’s only like this with the people she cares about.” Wesley accepted the ice pack from Nichole and scooted between the front seats to continue his counsel. “At least, that’s what she always tells me.”
She often told Wesley she only bossed around the people she loved. She cared about Chase, but love... Nichole climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors and her feelings. “I’ve always liked trucks.” Had she always liked Chase, too?
“You can drop me off at home and still take my truck.” His voice lacked his usual persuasive edge. His tone drifted into uncertain.
“Not happening.” Nichole reversed out of the driveway. “If you’re at home, you might find yourself accepting another challenge from your teammates or friends. I won’t be there to stop you.”
Wesley giggled in the back seat.
A faint smile slipped across Chase’s face. And Nichole grinned, even more certain she’d done the right thing.
Chase adjusted the ice pack and leaned the seat back, dropped his head on the headrest and promptly fell asleep. Wesley stretched out on the bench seat, propped his pillow on the door and copied Chase, quickly falling asleep, too. The only difference—Chase slept with a grimace on his face, Wesley a grin. Wesley had always been hers to protect. She shouldn’t want to protect Chase now. She had the rest of the drive to get over her wants and focus on her priorities.
Over an hour later, the ice pack leaked down the front of Chase’s shirt yet hadn’t woken him up. However, the bumps on the dirt road leading to her grandparent’s farm jarred him wide-awake.
Served him right. Accepting an obstacle course challenge to keep from disappointing Wesley. Exhaustion paled his skin and pooled under his eyes even after his nap. He spent too much time running around, being everything to everyone and forgot to take care of himself along the way.
The truck bounced over two more dirt holes and bounced frustration and awareness through Nichole. Chase was a grown man. He should know how to take care of himself. He wasn’t her responsibility.
Nichole glanced over at Chase. “Sorry. I’ve been trying to miss the potholes, but it’s impossible.” Almost as impossible as not noticing every detail about Chase. Or not wanting to take care of him, too.
“Thanks for looking out for me.” Chase reached over and grabbed her hand. “The ice and nap helped.”
Still, pain lingered at the edges of his eyes and his voice. Nichole twisted her fingers around his, telling herself she’d let go soon enough. She looked in the rearview mirror. “Wesley, you awake back there?”
Wesley leaned on the center console between Chase
