Page 24

Chapter 24

Chase

T he air between us is thick—heavy with unspoken words, with regret, with the weight of everything we once were and everything we may never be again. We've been sitting in near silence for hours, with only the low hum of the mini fridge.

Blake speaks to me when he wants to see if I need something, but that’s it. He’s working hard to be attentive to my needs. It’s almost painful to watch him try so hard, to see the quiet desperation in his eyes. But it’s also touching. He’s fighting for us. I just wish he had done it then or right after he betrayed me. Would it have made a difference finding out then or now?

God, I want to trust him again. I want to forgive him for cheating, for breaking us in a way I don’t know how to fix. But how do you put trust back together when it's been shattered? How do you reach for someone who once pushed you away?

“Are you thirsty?” Blake’s voice cuts through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present.

I just nod, my throat too tight to speak.

He stands and moves to the mini fridge, pulling out two cans of Dr Pepper. He lingers for a moment, restocking the fridge from the case on the floor. I watch his fingers move, the way they tremble ever so slightly, and I wonder if he’s as unsure of what to say as I am.

“Hungry?” he asks, not looking at me. “We have chips, pretzels, and chocolate.”

“Chips are fine.”

He grabs a party-size bag and walks back over, handing me a can before sitting beside me. He opens the bag and places it between us on the bench, his arm brushing mine briefly.

We reach for the chips at the same time. Our hands touch, just for a second, and I jerk back like I’ve been burned.

“I’m sorry,” Blake says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, but the memory of his touch lingers longer than it should. Reminding me of what we had before. What we were.

We fall back into silence, taking turns dipping our hands into the bag, the only connection between us now a shared snack in an ocean of unresolved pain.

I clear my throat, needing to ask something before I can talk myself out of it. “You said you thought Max was interested in me. Why?”

Blake exhales sharply, like the question catches him off guard. “Why wouldn’t he be?” he says after a moment. “You’re hot as hell. Not to mention he’s always hanging around you now that you came out, yet he never talked to you before.”

My mind flickers back to that night at the club. The flashing lights, the music, the moment I thought I saw him. “Did you go to the club that night?” I ask, my heart pounding. “I could’ve sworn I saw you there, but then you were gone. I thought I was imagining it.”

His body stiffens, his jaw tightening before he coughs, rubbing the back of his neck. I stay quiet, waiting to hear what he wants to tell me. My gut tells me I already know the answer.

He sighs. “I was there.”

A strange, hollow feeling settles in my chest. “Why?”

“I heard the two of you talking,” he admits, his voice raw. “And I was jealous. You were smiling at him like you used to smile at me.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down hard. “Then I saw you two together. Hugging. You were so close, and I—I thought you were kissing.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Blake…”

He shakes his head. “I was so mad. I knew I needed to get out of there.”

Blake saw us hugging. He thought we kissed. He was jealous. He does still care about me.

Silence stretches between us again. Then, softer, he says, “And it would serve me right even if you were. After what I did to you.”

I don’t have an answer for that. So I just sit there, staring at the now crumpled bag of chips between us, wondering if there’s any way to go back to before. Before the betrayal. Before everything fell apart.

And wondering if, despite it all, I still want to.

The silence eats away at me like an annoying rash. One that lingers and won’t go away no matter what you try.

“We didn’t kiss,” I finally confess. “He’s not interested in me.”

“You didn’t?” Blake says, his voice breaking with relief as if he’s been holding his breath this entire time, waiting for the worst.

I shake my head. "No, we didn’t. In fact, he told me I should talk to you. Work out our issues. He thinks you care about me."

Blake’s eyes shoot to mine, searching. "He’s right. I do care, Chase. I love you. I never stopped. I never will."

His words are like a punch to the gut, and I exhale harshly, turning my gaze away. Love isn’t always enough. If it were, we wouldn’t be here, sitting on opposite ends of this emotional battlefield, surrounded by the wreckage of our relationship.

"Tell me what I need to do, Chase. How do we get back to where we were?" His voice is thick with desperation, with a longing that makes my chest ache. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

I shake my head again, biting the inside of my cheek. "I don’t know, Blake. It’s hard because I keep thinking about you and that night. No matter how much I want to move past it, it’s always there." The image of him with someone else, the thought of his hands on her, his lips—

I clench my jaw, forcing the image away before it can consume me again.

Blake reaches out hesitantly, then lets his hand drop onto mine. "I can’t take it back. But I will work every second of the day, replacing those memories with new ones. Happy ones. With us. I’ll keep doing it until you can look at me again without seeing my betrayal."

I press my fingers against my temple, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before looking back at him. "I don’t know," I say again, my voice uncertain.

Blake nods, but I can see the way his throat moves when he swallows the tension in his jaw. "Can you let me try? Please, Chase. I don’t know how to go on living without you. I waited so long to be with you, and in one night, I fucked it all up. I know that. But I can’t lose you."

His words mend something inside me. I run a hand through my hair, exhaling slowly. "It’s fucking hard, Blake."

"I know," he says immediately, squeezing my hand. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it easier. Even if it takes forever.”

I meet his eyes then, and for the first time in what feels like ages, I see the boy I fell in love with. Not the mistake, not the pain, just him.

I sigh, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me. "How about we take baby steps? No pressure. And just… see where it goes."

Blake’s shoulders sag with relief, and after days of tension, there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Yeah?"

I nod. "Yeah."

And just like that, a sliver of light breaks through the darkness. A fleeting hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll get back to where we were.

The hours slip by, filled with small talk. It’s not deep or significant, but it’s something. And for once, I don’t completely hate Blake. It’s a start.

Running a hand over my face, I let out a deep yawn.

“Tired?” Blake asks, his voice softer now, as if our time talking has eased the tension between us just a little.

“Yeah,” I admit, rubbing my eyes, turning to face him. “Who would’ve thought having absolutely nothing to do would be so exhausting?”

Blake chuckles under his breath. “Yeah.” He exhales, rolling his shoulders. “I didn’t sleep the best last night.” His hand rubs at the back of his neck.

“Well, yeah. You slept on a bench all night. That must have been shit.”

Blake shrugs. “It’s okay. I deserved it.”

I frown, my gaze drifting toward the air mattress before flicking back to him. The exhaustion is clear to see on his face, in the way his shoulders slump, the bags under his eyes dark from fatigue. He’s punishing himself, but even after everything, I can’t bring myself to let him.

“We could take a nap together,” I suggest, watching his reaction. “On the mattress.”

Blake immediately shakes his head. “No. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” I insist, sitting up straighter. “We’ll just be sleeping. By the time our eyes close, we won’t even know the other is there.”

He hesitates, looking between me and the mattress, like he’s fighting an internal war. I sigh, then stand, making my way over and lying down without another word. My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the ceiling, waiting.

Seconds pass. Then a minute. I lift my head slightly, peering at him where he still sits, motionless.

“Blake, come on,” I murmur, my voice quieter now. “Just lie down. Please. You need some sleep, and I’m not going to make you sleep on the bench again. If you don’t get over here, then I’m getting up. You sleep on the bench. I sleep on the bench.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, and then, finally, he moves. It's slow, hesitant, but he joins me, sitting down on the opposite side of the mattress, lying down stiffly.

I roll onto my side, my back to him. I can’t look at him. Not yet. Having him this close, lying next to me, is already overwhelming enough. I just need to get through this. One time. One time is one step closer to maybe, eventually, forgiving him.

His breathing evens out after a few minutes, slow and deep, and when I glance over my shoulder, I find him fast asleep. The tension in his face has smoothed away, replaced with something more vulnerable, more familiar. A version of Blake I hadn’t allowed myself to see in a long time.

I close my eyes and let myself follow him into sleep.