Nichole stepped onto the back porch and stood in the doorway. Surely there was nothing more to be said. He’d confessed his truths last night for the world to know. She crossed her arms over her chest, blocking him from taking another aim at her heart. “What are you doing?”
“There are reporters out front.” He pointed at the back gate and tugged the rim of his baseball cap over his forehead. “I didn’t want to be seen so I came in the back way.”
And he could turn around and leave the same way. Now. Before she noticed his unkempt appearance and the misery in his tone. Or searched for regret in the shadows under his eyes. Nicole flattened her lips together and remained silent.
“I’m sorry about last night.” He ground his foot into an anthill as if defending himself from her silent attack. “Football is my career. My entire life.”
“There’s more to you than football.” Surely, he understood that. Recognized he was more than a football player. So much more.
“Nothing special.” He scratched his fingers through his beard and grimaced as if surprised to realize he hadn’t shaved that morning. “I wanted to give you something.”
“I don’t want it.” Unless it was his...
He reached into his pocket. For a brief moment, Nichole’s breath hitched. The silly hope that refused to shrivel up swelled inside her. Had he recognized his error? Acknowledged his heart.
His hand reappeared, holding an envelope. And that hope finally withered. As it should. Love had no place between them.
“I wanted to give you this.” He held out the envelope. “It’s for damage control.”
Nichole glared at the envelope. She’d been given a similar one more than a decade ago. Still remembered the stunned ache inside her chest. She’d revealed her surprise pregnancy and had received a payoff to go away quickly and quietly.
Last night, she’d confessed her love and now stood ready to collect another payout. Once again, her love wasn’t enough. She braced herself in the doorway. Her heart crumbled around her feet, tiny unrecognizable pieces, and still she refused to collapse. “I can handle the fallout. I’ve survived much worse than this.”
“Take it.” He clenched the envelope, thrust it toward her. Desperation punched through his words. “You can finish your app. Fund the launch yourself and secure your own future.”
Funny, she’d started to imagine a future that included Chase. Beside her. With her. She’d started to imagine more than she’d ever dared before. The cries of her shattered heart became silent. Soundless. She should ache. A full body splintering ache that dropped her to her knees. But she was too hollow. Too empty. “I don’t want a free ride.” Or his handouts. Or his pity.
“I want you to have this.” He adjusted his baseball cap, revealed his tired eyes. Still, he held her gaze. “It doesn’t make up for what I’ve done. But it can protect your future.”
Ironic. That was all she’d ever really wanted. To feel protected and secure. “What about our future?”
“This is the best I can offer.” His voice was flat and muted.
“You’re more than a quarterback. More than a touchdown pass or an autograph.” He rescued kittens. Took care of his family. Believed in her. Nichole pointed at the envelope in his tense grip. “You’re more than the size of your bank account.”
“Are we?” He stuffed the envelope back inside his pocket and set his hands on his hips. “You’ve been so busy chasing the sale of your app, you ignored the warning signs. And for what? To increase the size of your bank account and have a couple of strangers believe in you?”
“That’s not fair.” Nichole charged off the porch onto the staircase. The door slammed behind her, blasting force into her words. “Is that what this has become? A comparison of bank balances to determine who can claim to have a more fulfilling life?”
“Look around, Nichole.” He gestured toward her home, the movement a rigid snap. “You already have that life. With or without your app sale, you win.”
She clutched the wooden railing and searched his face. Where was the Chase she knew? “Why can’t we both win?”
His smile was dark. Bitter, as if coated in contempt and dipped in cynicism. “That’s not how real life works.”
But what about love? “So, you claim defeat, pay me off and walk away.”
“I messed up your world.” That contempt scored his face. “The money can help fix that.”
“You can stick around and fix it yourself.” She launched her challenge. He’d always accepted before.
He shook his head. “I don’t belong here.”
“Why not?” She disliked the callous man standing before her. Despised the defeat in his gaze. Her heart was already broken. Still, she fought. “Because we don’t ask for your autograph enough. Don’t quote your football stats and recite your best plays.”
“People want the football star. Not a has-been. Not a former.” He stabbed his arms out to either side, punching the air.
Not me. She only ever wanted him. Just Chase. “I’m not everyone. But then again, I’m not enough, am I?”
“You’re everything.” He yanked off his baseball hat and scrubbed his hand through his hair. That bitterness fell from his words like fat raindrops. “You can’t love me.”
“Why not?” The air chilled. Or perhaps that was only the void inside her. “Why is my love so hard to accept?”
“I’ve always been damaged goods.” His arms crossed over his chest, bodyguard intense. “Except on the football field. Even my dad returned for the football player.”
But his dad had never returned for the boy. Never just Chase—his son who battled dyslexia and only ever wanted his dad’s approval. Chase had accepted her no-bonding terms in Tahoe because he’d been the boy she’d feared Wesley would become. The child
