Page 22

Chapter 22

Blake

C hase has been holed up in the bathroom since we got here, refusing to come out. I know he needs time to process everything. Hell, I would too if I found out the man I was with cheated on me. At first I could hear him crying and it took everything in me not to go to him, wrap him up in my arms and tell him it would be alright. That everything I said was a lie. Nothing happened.

But I couldn’t lie or keep secrets from him. I’ll never do it again.

I fucking cheated! It still hurts to admit it to myself. I know I didn’t fuck her, come inside of her. But I still did the act. Thankfully, I sobered up before completing the deed. It might be my only saving grace. When I told Carter the truth, I could see the anger in his eyes, but for some unknown reason to me, he still wants to try to help repair Chase and mine's broken relationship.

The silence is killing me.

It’s more unsettling than the crying. At least when Chase was crying, I knew he was feeling something—anger, sadness, pain. Now, there’s nothing. Just an emptiness so vast it swallows the sound of my own breathing.

I sit outside the bathroom, my back against the cold metal lockers, head tilted back, eyes staring at the ceiling as if it holds the answers to my problems. Hours have passed since he went inside, since his sobs disappeared. Any hope I had that he would walk back into the locker room and scream at me, curse me, do anything but leave me to strangle in the silence, has long disappeared.

The distance between us, though, when we are so close physically, is unbearable.

I hate myself. More than I ever had before. More than when I walked away that night instead of staying, when I betrayed the one person who ever truly mattered to me. If I had just stayed, if I had fought for us instead of running away, maybe we wouldn’t be where we are now. Maybe he wouldn’t hate me.

I knock my head against the lockers. The dull thud doing nothing to break the silence between us. He doesn’t even come out, or scream at me to fucking cut it out. He just ignores me. My hands curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. I can’t keep doing this—just waiting for him to let me in, hoping he’ll acknowledge me.

I need to take action. Show him I’m willing to fight, and maybe, just maybe, it’ll convince him to do the same.

With a deep breath, I stand up and head over to the mini-fridge. Carter thought of everything when he locked us in here—food, drinks, even disposable utensils. I grab some bread, turkey, and cheese, and make a sandwich, praying this small task can keep me from spiraling. At the last second, I pick up a bottle of water before walking into the bathroom. Walk to Chase.

Baby steps.

I hesitate in the doorway. Chase sits on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. He stares at the tiled wall in front of him, unmoving, oblivious to the world around him.

“Chase,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nothing.

“Please, just talk to me.”

Still nothing. My chest aches, a deep, crushing weight pressing down on me.

“I’m so sorry,” I continue, my voice breaking. “Not a second goes by that I don’t regret that night. That I don’t wish I had made a different choice.” I swallow hard, blinking against the burn behind my eyes. “I love you so much.”

He doesn’t even look at me.

I kneel down and hold out the plate with the sandwich. “I made you something to eat.” Still no reaction. I sigh, setting the plate down carefully beside him. “I’m going to leave it here. Please eat something.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.

I exhale deeply, stand and take a step back. “I really am sorry,” I whisper. “I’d give my soul to change what happened, but I can’t. All I can do now is prove to you how much you mean to me. How much I want to fix this. And maybe, someday… you can forgive me.”

Chase doesn’t speak, continuing to give me nothing but silence. With a heavy sigh, I turn and leave the bathroom, returning to my spot on the bench.

The minutes drag into hours. I stay in the locker room, watching the entry to the bathroom, waiting for Chase to walk out and tell me what he’s thinking. But he never does. When I finally take a moment to look at my watch, it’s close to ten at night. I need to check on him. Standing, I make my way back inside the bathroom.

The sandwich remains untouched. The water bottle, unopened. And Chase… Chase is curled on his side, hands tucked beneath his head, his body rising and falling in the soft rhythm of sleep.

I can’t leave him like this.

Carefully, I crouch down, sliding my arms beneath him and bracing myself before pushing up. His weight is solid against mine, and I have to adjust my grip to keep us balanced. He barely stirs, just a faint sigh as his head lolls against my chest, his fingers twitching slightly in my shirt. I swallow the lump in my throat and hold him tighter.

I miss this. I miss him. The way he fits against me, the way his touch, even unintentional, sends warmth flooding through my veins. But I know he isn’t reaching for me—he’s just lost in the haze of sleep, unaware of the way his body reacts.

I carry him back into the locker room, lowering him onto the air mattress as carefully as I can so I don’t wake him. Slipping off his shoes, I pull the blanket up, tucking it around his shoulders. He doesn’t stir, only lets out a soft sigh.

Taking a step back, I drop onto the bench across from him, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped together. And I watch him.

I watch the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips part slightly as he breathes. I watch the man I broke with my betrayal—the man I lost because of my stupidity.

“I’m so sorry, Chase. I was an idiot. I knew coming out was hard for you and coming back here would be difficult. I should’ve seen it more through your eyes instead of acting like a hothead and thinking only of me. If I had just stayed with you and talked through your concerns, proving that we could face any obstacle together, then that night wouldn’t have happened. We’d be together and joining Carter in trying to win back Ginny. But instead, you’re not talking to me and I’m a fucking ass.”

Chase doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even hear me. My words aren’t just for him, they’re for me.

I pray that one day, I can put him back together. Put us back together.