Page 28

Chapter 28

Blake

T he rich scent of Thai food still lingers in the air, a welcome change from the never-ending supply of sandwiches Chase and I had been surviving on all weekend. We both adamantly refused to glance at anything even remotely resembling a sandwich tonight, when we were trying to decide what to eat.

As the four of us sit here together, it feels right. Complete. The way it should be. It isn’t perfect yet, but for the first time since the Poconos, I feel we’re all working in the same direction. To the same goal. To be a unit again.

My eyes keep drifting over to Carter and Ginny. The way they hold each other, the small affectionate touches they share—it makes me smile. Carter was gutted when Ginny left, ripped apart before he ever got the chance to tell her how he truly felt. What he wanted. What the three of us wanted with her.

I’d never seen him like he was with her before. In all the years I’ve known him, I thought he’d always be the flirt, bouncing from one girl to the next, never ready to settle down. But then Ginny came along, and suddenly, no one else existed for him. Seeing them like this, together, happy, makes something settle in my chest. Maybe things really can be rebuilt. Maybe we can all find our way back to each other and finally be a complete unit.

Carter and Ginny snuggle up together in the chair, Ginny pulling a blanket over them, resting her head on his shoulder. The four of us are finally reunited in a way that doesn’t feel forced or awkward. Chase laughs beside me as we watch Traitor , a show I hadn’t expected to enjoy but now has become my guilty obsession.

Not wanting to feel like a voyeur to their moment, I turn my gaze over to Chase, shifting closer to him on the couch until our bodies are flush against each other. The warmth of his touch seeps into me, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I let myself believe that I belong here—with him, even after what I did. My fingers trail along his thigh, hesitant, waiting for him to push me away. But he doesn’t. Yearning for more, I flatten my palm against the soft cotton of his jogging pants, squeezing gently, just enough to remind myself that he is real and that we are sitting here together. Still, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets out a breath, barely audible over the sounds of the show, and leans into me. When his fingers slip between mine, intertwining, my heart clenches.

He’s letting me in.

I sink deeper into the couch, my chest tight with emotions I’m not sure how to process. Chase rests his head on my shoulder, his breathing slow and even, and I close my eyes for a brief second, just reveling in the feel of him there, trusting me again, even in the smallest ways.

Ginny’s groan breaks the comfortable silence. “Ugh, it’s time for me to go.” And I can’t help but laugh at how she crosses her arms over her chest, pouting like a kid. So fucking adorable.

“No, stay,” Carter whines dramatically, throwing his arms and legs around her, attempting to hold her hostage.

She laughs but shakes her head. “I wish I could, but if I stay any longer, Dad and Antony will start calling, and I’ve already been out later than I told him. I have to pick my battles.” Her voice drops, frustration evident. “I can’t wait to find a way to get rid of Antony, so I can finally tell Dad about the three of you.”

I frown, the mention of Antony sending a wave of unease through me. “Just be careful, Ginny. From what I saw of him at the rink that morning, he’s fucking psycho.”

“Trust me, I’ve figured that out,” she mutters darkly.

Carter sighs, unweaving himself from her and stands, taking her hand in his as he pulls her up. “I’ll walk you out.”

Before she leaves, she turns to Chase and me, a hopeful look in her eyes. “Can I get a hug before I go?”

“Of course,” we answer in unison.

She embraces Chase first, holding him tightly, whispering something in his ear that I can’t quite hear. He nods, his face softening as she kisses his cheek. Then she shifts to me, pulling me into the same tight hug.

“I’m so glad you two are working through things,” she whispers against my ear. Then she leans back slightly, eyes full of hope. “Next time I can sneak away, do you think we can have that date, just the three of us? A chance to reconnect alone?”

Chase answers before I can. “Absolutely. I’d love that. We’d love that.”

Ginny beams, stepping back as Carter grabs her jacket, helping her slip it on before guiding her outside, leaving Chase and me alone.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “I guess I should order a Lyft to take me home.”

Chase’s hand is on my arm before I can move, his grip firm but gentle. “No, stay with me. Here.” His throat bobs as he swallows.

I search his face, hesitant. “Are you sure? I don’t want to push you.”

“You’re not,” he says softly. “We’re taking steps. And if we want to move forward with Ginny, too, we need to keep moving forward with us.” He hesitates, his fingers flexing against my arm. “This will be a real test. Sleeping in the same bed—not because we have to, but because we choose to. I’m not ready to have sex, but I want to see how it feels to sleep beside you again. To have you hold me like you used to. Maybe even kiss you some more.”

I feel like my chest is going to cave in from how much I want this. “I’d like that too.”

Chase nods, but I can see the slight nervousness in his eyes, the hesitation that comes with opening himself back up to me. I won’t take that for granted.

After a moment, I frown. “Are you sure about the date with Ginny? I don’t want you to feel like we have to rush that. She seems willing to wait for us. To be on our schedule when we’re ready to move forward. I’m sure Carter will be more than happy to keep her occupied.”

“I am,” he admits with a steady voice. “She left us with only a note. It’s not like she knew we’d ever meet again. But we did. And…” He exhales slowly. “I miss her too, if I’m being honest.”

I nod, understanding completely. There is still a long way to go, but this—this moment—feels like progress.

Chase steps into me then, closing the distance as his arms slide around my waist. His fingers slipping beneath the hem of my shirt, grazing my skin, igniting a warmth that spreads through me like wildfire. I let my hands settle on his hips, holding him there as we stand in the dimly lit living room, nothing but the sound of our breaths and the hum of the TV in the background.

He wants me here. He is choosing me.

A throat clears behind us, and Carter stands just inside the door, gazing at our moment of intimacy with the biggest smile on his face.

Chase doesn’t miss a beat. “Blake’s staying over tonight. You can go ahead and lock up.”

Carter does the goofiest happy dance, showing his most awkward moves, and I’m so glad he’s never done any of them when we’ve won on the ice.

“Really?” Chase barks at him, but I can see the grin he’s fighting to hide. He’s happy to see Carter reacting this way as well.

“What? I’m…” He puts on an ugly crying face before bringing his fist to his chest, giving it a slight pound. “I’m just so happy the two of you are back together.” He chokes out the words, and both Chase and I shake our heads.

“We’re going to bed before you become any more dramatic.” Chase takes hold of my hand and leads us up the stairs, my pulse racing. I can't believe this is really happening.

The door clicks shut behind us as we enter the quietness of Chase’s bedroom. The room is dimly lit, the glow from his bedside lamp casting golden hues across the walls, stretching long shadows over the bed. My heart pounds, not from nerves exactly, but from the weight of the moment—of what this means, of what we’re building again, step by step.

Chase moves first, pulling his hoodie over his head, his t-shirt rising slightly in the process, revealing a sliver of warm, golden skin before it disappears. He tosses it onto the chair by his desk before looking at me, something questionable in his gaze. Is he waiting for me? Yes. He’s waiting—to see if I’ll hesitate, if I’ll pull away. I won’t. Not now. Not ever again.

I follow his lead, stripping my shirt off and feeling the chill of the air against my skin. Chase continues watching me, those deep emerald green eyes roaming over me like he’s memorizing every part of me, reacquainting himself with my presence, with my body. The way he looks at me, the way his lips part just slightly, I swear I can feel his breath against my skin even from feet away.

I reach for my jeans, undoing the button and sliding them down my legs, leaving me in just my boxers. Chase mirrors me, shuffling out of his sweats, then pulls his shirt off, leaving us both standing there in nothing but our boxers. The air is thick, charged, and I feel exposed—not just physically, but emotionally. Like he could see straight into my soul if he wanted to. Maybe he can.

“Come here,” he murmurs—just a simple request, and one I can never deny.

I step closer, and as soon as I’m within reach, his arms are around me, wrapping tight, pressing our bodies together. His skin is warm against mine, and I exhale a shaky breath, burying my face in the crook of his neck. He smells like his body wash, a little like cedar and something inherently him. I want to drown in it.

His hands trace slow, soothing lines along my spine, and I shiver—not from cold, but from the sensation, from the way his touch burns even in the softest caress. “I miss this,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my temple.

I tighten my arms around him, nodding against his skin. “Me too. More than you know.”

He pulls back just enough to look at me, to meet my eyes, and there’s something vulnerable there. “I’m still scared, Blake,” he admits, voice quiet but firm. “Of letting you in. Of trusting this. But… I want to.”

My throat tightens, emotion swelling so thick I can barely speak past it. “Then we take it slow,” I promise. “No pressure, no expectations. Just us.”

He nods before pulling me toward the bed. We slip under the covers together, facing each other, our bodies close but not crushing. His fingers find mine beneath the sheets, threading together like they belong there.

He watches me for a moment before he speaks again, softer this time. “Kiss me?”

I don’t need to be asked twice. I lean in, capturing his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. One fueled by love, by the sheer need to be close, to cherish what we have. His lips part slightly, and I take my time exploring, savoring the way he tastes, the way he sighs against my mouth, his hand coming up to cup the side of my face, his thumb brushing along my cheekbone.

We kiss like that for what feels like forever, slow and unhurried, learning each other again. His hand drifts down my chest, fingertips barely ghosting over my skin, and my stomach tenses under the touch. Not from anxiety, but from the way he makes me feel like I’m coming undone in the best way.

I shift, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between us, his warmth surrounding me. When we finally part, I rest my forehead against his, breathing him in, letting my hands settle on his hips, holding him there like he might disappear if I let go.

He whispers, his voice barely above a breath. “Hold me.”

I press a kiss to his temple, tightening my arms around him. “Always.”

In that moment, as our bodies fit together, as his breath evens out against my skin, I know—we’re going to be okay.