Page 25

Chapter 25

Blake

M y eyes blink open, adjusting to the dim lighting in the room. The air mattress beneath me shifts slightly as I turn on my side. Lifting my head, my gaze falls on Chase, still deep in sleep beside me.

His face is so peaceful, his bow shaped lips slightly parted, his breath slow and steady. The sharp edges of his jaw are a contrast to the soft curve of his cheekbones. His dark lashes flutter along his skin. There’s something about watching someone sleep, something raw and unguarded. Chase is always so put together, so carefully composed, but now, in this moment, he’s just… him.

He’s relaxed. Content. Something I haven’t seen on his face since the Poconos.

I let my gaze wander, tracing the subtle rise and fall of his chest beneath his snug t-shirt, the way his fingers twitch slightly against the sheets as if lost in some dream. My heart tightens, and I exhale softly, wondering what it would feel like to reach out, to press my palm against his stomach and run my hand along his skin. To feel the warmth of him beneath my touch.

But I don’t. I won’t. Not without his consent. Without him wanting me to touch him.

Suddenly, Chase stirs, his brows knitting together slightly. Panic jolts through me, and I quickly roll over, pretending to still be asleep. Not wanting him to catch me being a creeper. The air mattress deflates slightly under the movement, and I hear him yawn, the sound deep and lazy.

The mattress shifts again as Chase moves. I take this as my cue, stretching my arms out dramatically and letting out a forced yawn. “What time is it?” My voice comes out rough with sleep as I roll over and see that he’s now sitting, his back to me, feet on the floor.

Chase rubs his face before glancing at his watch. “Six a.m.,” he responds, his voice still thick with sleep. “Didn’t expect us to sleep that long and end up in a new day.” He laughs and the sound of it warms my heart.

I chuckle, rolling onto my back. “Me either. But it means there's only one more night in here.” My heart clenches at that thought. A small piece of me is angry that I have to give up this time with him and risk going back to what we were before this weekend.

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to sleep in my own bed. This air mattress is for the fucking birds.”

“At least they got us one that’s lifted off the floor. Imagine what it would be like with us sleeping right on the tile. We’d fucking freeze.”

Chase nods, then stretches again, his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of taut skin. I quickly look away, clearing my throat. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I take a whiff of my shirt and grimace. Yeah, I definitely need one. I go to stand from the mattress, letting my feet hit the tile floor, the coldness seeping through the cotton material of my socks.

Chase is still sitting, running a hand through his messy hair, when I find myself hesitating. The words come out before I can stop them. “Do you mind if I, um…” I stutter, then shake my head, gathering myself. “Mind if I take a shower with you?”

The room goes quiet. I watch the way his shoulders stiffen, the way the muscles in his back tense beneath his shirt. He doesn’t speak right away, and my stomach twists in knots. I drop my gaze, bracing myself for the rejection, the awkward excuse, the inevitable distance that would follow.

But then—

“Sure, that’s fine.” His voice hitches, cracking slightly.

My eyes snap to his, wide with disbelief. “Are you sure?” I ask quickly, trying to give him an out, to save face before I get too hopeful. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. If you need to go first I can wait until you’re done.”

He shakes his head, his expression unreadable. “No, Blake. It’s fine.”

I swallow, nodding. “Okay.” A small glimmer of hope takes over that I’m slowly breaking down the barriers I caused Chase to build.

I walk over to my locker and pull out my shower bag before peeling off my shirt. The cool air hits my skin, and I fight the shiver that follows. Socks off, then pants. I don’t look back at Chase, but I can hear him moving, the soft rustle of fabric as he undresses. When I finally turn, he’s already making his way toward the showers, his toned back flexing as he moves. My eyes drift lower—big mistake. The way his muscles shift with each step, the dip of his spine, the tight curve of his ass—I bite my lip, swallowing the groan threatening to escape my throat.

I follow behind him, stepping into the steamy room. Water echoes off the tiled walls, the scent of soap and shampoo thick in the air. Chase stands under the spray, and instead of taking a spot on the opposite side of the room, I step right beside him and turn on the knob. He glances over at me, then quickly shifts his eyes back to the wall in front of him.

Warm water cascades down my skin, washing away the remnants of sleep. I steal a glance to my right, catching the way the water clings to Chase’s body, tracing over the ridges of muscle, the sharp line of his collarbone. He pushes his wet hair back from his forehead, as his eyes close briefly under the spray.

My eyes drift lower, at the ridges of his stomach, each defined muscle flexing subtly with his breath. Droplets catch in the dips between his abs, sliding down his body.

His legs, strong and sturdy, are slightly parted, the powerful muscles in his thighs shifting as he adjusts his stance. The water runs down his inner thighs, following the contours of his body with an almost deliberate slowness.

My eyes drift between his legs to his cock. Memories of the last time I had him in my mouth hit me. His moans of pleasure as I sucked him dry. Water beads along his length before slipping away, disappearing into the steam that swirls around us. Heat coils low in my stomach, my pulse quickening as I force myself to look away, but the image lingers, burned into my mind like an unshakable temptation.

I focus on scrubbing the soap into my skin, on anything but the way my body reacts to his presence so close to mine. But no matter how much I try, my mind keeps drifting back—to the sound of his deep, steady breathing, to the occasional brush of his arm when we move closer toward each other.

I exhale slowly, steadying myself. I can’t go there. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

But standing here, with only inches between us, it’s hard not to.

The day drags on, sometimes silently. But the times we do talk—they’re magical. I feel like I have Chase back and it’s these moments I’ll take with me when we leave this locker room.

Chase rummages through the bag Carter left us, searching for something among the snacks. Then, out of nowhere, he lets out a whooping laugh, the sound so infectious that I can’t help but join in, even though I have no clue what’s so funny.

He shifts where he’s kneeling and looks back at me, a devilish grin on his face. "Want to play some Uno?" He holds up a deck of cards, and I can’t help but smile.

"Hell yeah, finally something to do."

"I'm going to get us some drinks and chips, and we can sit on the mattress and play." He stands up, heading toward the fridge, before pausing and looking at me, adding with a smirk, "Just don’t make a mess with crumbs."

Then he fucking winks at me.

My heart soars. Chase just winked at me. I don’t even care that it isn’t flirtatious—just that he did it.

I move over to the air mattress and straighten out the sheets, making sure to knock some of the crumbs I notice from my sandwich earlier today before Chase sees them. This may be my hint to stop eating in bed.

I crawl on, taking a spot as Chase heads toward me with soda cans and chips in hand. He gives me a can, and I reach down, setting it on the floor. He drops the chips beside us, then sits down, crosses his legs, and opens the cards.

He deals them out, and I draw first. "Reverse, reverse, skip, draw four," I announce proudly, changing the color to blue.

Chase holds his cards eye level, tapping his finger along the edge of them before slamming down a draw four. "Green," he declares loudly, smirking when he sees I have nothing to counteract it. I take the required number of cards from the deck as he plays his next card.

He throws down two skips and a draw two.

"Fuck," I mutter as I pull more cards from the deck.

We go back and forth, battling it out, until he suddenly grins, "Uno!" He throws down a card of the same color we’ve been playing.

I look from his hand to mine, groaning at the six cards still clutched between my fingers. None of them helping to add cards to his hand, other than attempting to change the color. "Yellow," I announce proudly.

His face drops, and I grin, happy to have gained an upper hand. Chase reaches toward the deck for a card before shifting slightly, slamming down another draw four. The final card in his hand.

Well played, Chase. Well played.

"I win!" he proclaims, puffing out his chest.

"Yeah, yeah. Rematch?" I ask.

We play for hours, talking the entire time. Nothing heavy, just light, easy conversation. It feels good just being close, just talking to him without seeing hate reflected back at me.

But as the time gets late, Chase begins to yawn.

"Are you tired?" I bite my lip as I wait for his answer.

"Yeah," his voice comes out groggy and soft.

I want him to rest, but there is one more thing I need to ask, knowing Carter will be back to let us out in the morning. "Tomorrow… do we go back to how we were? Since coming home?"

Chase sits there for a moment, quietly, as he gathers up the cards and places them back in the box. Finally, he blows out a breath, then looks up at me.

"I have so many reasons to hate you, Blake. To never speak to you again. But I have one good reason not to. No matter how badly you hurt me, I love you, Blake, with all my heart. Getting back to where we were won’t be easy, and I won’t say there won’t be problems or that it will work. But I love you too much to throw what we had away. All I ask is that we take it slow. We don’t rush."

My heart swells and I try to contain my excitement. "I’d like that, Chase. Can I hug you?"

He nods, and I lean forward, wrapping my arms around him as tears stream down my cheeks. He wants to try. He’s letting me in.

We pull apart, our eyes locking. "Can I kiss you?" I know I’m pushing it, but fuck, I just need to kiss him.

He nods again, and I press my lips to his. He doesn’t open his mouth at first or kiss back, but slowly, he starts warming up to me. It isn’t full of ravishing desire, but it is full of love—gentle, tender.

I’m finally getting my second chance with him. A new beginning. And it’s one I have no intention of screwing up again.