He was already fixing what he could: his shoulder. Wasn’t that good enough? His sisters always pushed him. Always challenged him. The same as Nichole. You could stick around and fix it yourself. Then he’d have to pretend he belonged. But what if he really belonged? What if he accepted Nichole’s love? Then he’d have to admit... “I should get going. Let you work.”
“Chase...” She stopped him at the door. “You can fix everything if you wanted to.”
He’d offered Nichole money to fund her app launch. She’d refused. Denied his help and him. He’d done the right thing. For once, he’d put someone else first and let Nichole go. “Things are as they should be. Leave it alone, Mallory.”
His sister walked over to him and shook her head. “I love you, little brother, but you can be quite dense sometimes.”
Chase stared down his sister. “That’s encouraging.”
“I’m not trying to be encouraging.” Mallory set her hands on her hips. “You need the truth, not encouragement.”
“What’s the truth?” He straightened to his full height as if that had ever convinced his sister to back down.
Mallory set her hand on Chase’s chest, directly over his heart. “You offered Nichole the wrong thing. You know it but refuse to admit it.”
“There’s nothing to admit.” His heart pounded in his chest. Could he love Nichole like she deserved? He’d only ever loved football and his life on the football field. What did he really know about loving another person? He could fail. Hurt her even more than he already had. He’d hate himself even more. “We don’t work. Nichole and I are too different.”
Mallory stepped back. Her gaze wide, her voice surprised. “For such a risk-taker and thrill seeker, I’ve never seen you more scared.”
Chase stared at the floor. Considered running out of his sister’s office but knew the truth would only pace him every step. “I’m facing the end of my career, Mallory. Of course, I’m scared.”
“We not talking about your career,” Mallory countered. “This was never about football.”
But it was supposed to be. It was only ever supposed to be about football. It was never supposed to be about finding his place off the field. Or seeing a future—the one he’d always wanted as a kid—the one that included a wife and children. And him being the dad he’d always wanted his own father to be. But this wasn’t like throwing an interception in the first half of a game. In a game, he had two more quarters to correct his mistake. To find a way to win. They were talking about life. Real life.
And the probability of making a mistake quadrupled. The risks piled up like the defense on a loose ball. But the rewards...
Mallory adjusted the collar on his jacket and touched his shoulders, drawing his focus back to her. “Go home, Chase, and spend some time alone.”
“How will being alone help me with the end of my career?” How would being alone help him win in the game of life? That would be if he wanted to play at all. His heart bumped against his ribs.
“It probably won’t.” Mallory kissed his cheek. “But you just might learn to like yourself again.”
“I’m fine with who I am.” Then I guess we’re done here. He flinched at Nichole’s words. All because he’d admitted he might not like himself. Now his sister expected him to like himself too.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Mallory patted his shoulder. Her voice was strong and sure, unlike her indifferent affection. “And one day you might believe it.”
Chase closed his sister’s office door and shut off her suggestion. He’d already spent too much time alone, avoiding the press and his feelings for Nichole. Now his sister wanted him to be alone and actively aware of that fact. As if.
Pre-op bloodwork complete, lunch several hours in the past and the kittens worn out from chasing a feather on a string, Chase stretched out on his living room couch. The silver kitten kneaded his chest, the gray one curled into a ball beside her sister. He should name them, but nothing sounded right. Nichole would’ve come up with cute names. Or better yet, Wesley would’ve shouted his ideas until the kittens responded. Chase grinned. Indoor voices were always difficult to master. Or they could’ve had a contest for the best names. Or a board game tournament to earn naming rights. So many options and every single one included Wesley and Nichole.
Not Chase, alone in his house, adjusting to the silence.
His doorbell rang. Thanks to several texts from Travis, Chase already knew his agent intended to stop in. Chase called out, “It’s open.”
Travis appeared in the open foyer and studied Chase from a distance. “What exactly are you doing?”
“Learning to be with myself.” Chase flicked the silver’s claws out of his shirt and petted the kitten until she settled next to her sibling.
“How’s that going?” Travis approached, skepticism shifting across his face.
Chase dropped his head on the back of the couch and looked at the ceiling he’d considered painting earlier. But he’d been overwhelmed by the different shades of white he’d discovered on his internet search. Nichole liked details. No doubt she could’ve explained the nuances in the colors. Still, he’d started a renovation list of ideas to make his place more of a home and less of a transient college dorm.
He shifted his attention to Travis. Surprise lifted his own voice. “Really well. Turns out I’m not all that bad to hang out with.”
Travis sat down on the longer section of the L-shaped couch and laughed. “You’re just now figuring that out. We’ve known it all along.”
“I’m not always the fastest on the insightful stuff.” Chase propped a pillow behind his head and considered Travis. “I’m also not the best about revealing my true self, but here goes.”
Chase opened with an apology to Travis, moved on to his struggle with dyslexia,
