Wait. What? “Chase?”
Maverick’s lips quirk with his smile, his stare curious. “Yeah, he’s one of the founders. Worked months to secure the funding and non-profit status.”
I swallow hard as the pieces click together. “You used to work with Chase. Back in his firefighting days.”
“Oh, he’s still with the department.” He rolls his eyes, and then nods toward the wide doorway. Inside one of the rooms, Chase works with the teens to hang the punching bags. “He refuses to take a salary from the center, even though he’s here more than most of our paid staff. Crazy.” There’s an admiration in his tone that’s unmistakable.
This man was paralyzed because of Chase’s decision to get behind the wheel drunk. Now they work together to provide a safe space for at-risk youth. The beauty and love in what they’ve built here steals my breath.
As we head back to the exercise room, I take in the features of the center in a new light. There are no doors except for the locked staff offices and two storage rooms. The doorways are extra-wide and the flooring flat and even. The surface makes it easy for Maverick to move freely from one room to the next. I’m certain none of that is accidental, as is the fact Chase created a job for his friend and a way for Maverick to provide for his family.
Chase climbs off the ladder. With both boxing bags hung, the two teens eagerly pull on gloves to try them out.
Maverick rolls to a stop and lifts his gaze to Chase. “I expect a bonus for singing your praises.”
Chase grins at his friend. “Yeah, sure, I’ll drop it in the mail.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be off this week? Wedding prep and all that?”
“Yeah.” Chase sneaks a wince my way. “We actually need to grab some tables and chairs. There’s been a change of venue.”
“Oh, damn,” Maverick says. “Of course. Take whatever you need. We don’t have the fundraiser until next week.”
“Cool. I thought you’d say that. We should actually head out.” Chase turns back to the teens. “Hey, Ryan. Cody. Can I get your help with something?”
Cody glances over at Ryan before meeting Chase’s stare. “Uh, do we have a choice?”
“Not really.” Chase laughs. “Come on. It’ll only take a sec and then you can get back to training to be the next ultimate MMA fighter.”
Chase leads us to one of the storage closets and the boys push the rolling cart holding a group of tables out to the truck. Chase uses a special dolly to load up a stack of ten chairs. That’s only a fraction of what they’re going to need for Saturday.
“We’re fitting all of this in your truck?” I say skeptically.
“It’s going to take a few trips,” Chase says, leaning the stack back and pulling the chairs toward the front doors. “We’ll grab what we can now. You don’t have to help all day. I’m sure you have better things to do.”
I really don’t. Simon’s watching Matthew, and the last thing I want is to spend all day with my mom, as horrible as it sounds. Still. I can’t tell whether Chase is giving me an out because he’d rather do this alone, or it’s some kind of test.
If I’m honest, I’m having a hard time deciding how I feel about Chase. It was easier to hate him an ocean away. But seeing him sober, handsome as ever, and thriving, it paints him in a new light. He’s full of goodness and I get little flashes of the man I fell for back in Kitty Hawk. He freaking volunteers at a teen center he helped open! A bud of attraction blooms in the space where my heart used to beat for him. It’s terrifying, and not at all in my plans. In fact, with each passing minute I forget exactly why I thought coming back would give me closure. If anything, it’s done the opposite.
“Hey, Chase.” A young man waves, stepping out of a beat-up older Civic. He stands to his full height, all long, skinny limbs, but there’s something familiar in his gait as he walks over.
“Hey, man.” Chase tilts the dolly so the stack of chairs stands upright again.
Cody and Ryan work together to stack the folding tables inside Chase’s truck bed. They glance up and shout out greetings.
“What’s this all for?” the guy says, sliding his sunglasses off and slipping them onto the top of his hat. “I thought you were on vacation this week.”
“My brother’s wedding,” Chase says.
“Ahh.” The man nods. It’s then I realize how I know him. It’s Tyler, one of the teens from the community center in Kitty Hawk. He’s grown up. Holds himself with more confidence too.
“Tyler?”
He turns at his name, his eyes growing wide with surprise. “Oh! Hey, Miss Martin.”
“How are you?” My jaw falls open, amazed he’s standing here, appearing happy and healthy. My heart melts at the fact he and Chase have kept in touch all these years.
“He’s fantastic.” Chase clasps him on the shoulder. “Tyler got a full ride to VCU and is one of our part-time staff for the community center.”
“Wow, that’s . . . so cool.”
“It’s not that big a deal.” Embarrassment darkens his cheeks and a glimpse of the awkward teen resurfaces for a split second. “I wouldn’t have done any of that without Chase’s help.” He gives Chase a light shove, the kind of familiar closeness that comes with trust and love. My heart squeezes.
“Do you keep in touch with anyone else from Kitty Hawk?” I ask, wondering if he ever got his chance with Bailey.
“Uh, yeah.” He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “Bailey also goes to VCU. We have a few classes together.”
“Sometimes she pops in to volunteer too,” Chase adds.
“That’s great.” My smile grows wide.
“But we’re just friends,” he clarifies as if the distinction is important. “She’s all into
