Page 24

Chapter

Nineteen

I inserted the key in the slot, but before I could reach for the handle, the door cracked open. Chase stood there, backlit by the soft lamplight, wearing grey sweats and a black T-shirt that clung to his chest.

“Do you just stand there, watching through the peephole?”

He grinned. “Hi.”

“Hi.” My nerves melted as I walked in, and Chase leaned in, dropping a kiss on my cheek.

Ugh. How did he do this to me so effortlessly? “That was nice.”

“I liked it.” He brushed his hand over my lower back as I slipped off my shoes.

The room was tidy. His bag was zipped and leaning against the dresser, his jacket folded on the desk chair. I tugged off my coat and draped it over the armchair then unhooked my purse and set it carefully beside it.

“Congrats on the win.” I turned, sliding my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“You know what.” I pursed my lips, working to keep my smile from exploding over my face. That moment he looked up at me from the ice and pointed at his clipboard replayed in my head. “You made me feel like I was a part of it.”

“You are a part of it.” He crossed to the mini fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and tossed one to me. Thankfully, I caught it.

I glanced at his packed bag, and something in my chest twinged. When we were back in Calgary, back at Douglas . . .

“You’re quiet.” He leaned his shoulder against the wall.

I twisted the cap on my water bottle. “You’re leaving early.”

“Yeah.” He looked at the floor then back up. “I have a thing tomorrow afternoon.”

“A thing?” I took a sip of water and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He nodded and drew a breath, considering. “I’m listed as my mother’s next of kin. So I have to meet with her parole officer. Discuss a support plan.”

That landed like a punch to my gut. “I’m so sorry.”

His jaw twitched. “Nothing to be sorry about. Just life.”

“Chase—”

“Honestly, I have you to thank for that, too.”

My brows furrowed as he pushed off the wall and swivelled the office chair to face me, then sat. “I said no. The first time they contacted me.”

“Understandable.”

He gripped the armrests. “When I saw her after she went in, she blamed everyone else. She didn’t want to get sober. Didn’t think she was the problem.”

I did the math in my head. Seven years, my mom had said. If she was getting out now, Chase would’ve been sixteen when she went in. The fallout would’ve been happening when he lived with us.

“I gave up on her. Didn’t have any desire to be there when she got out.

But then something you said, when you were talking about Axel and Rory, made me rethink everything.

‘Maybe they just need one person to believe they can be more than what they are.’” He shrugged.

“I don’t know if she’s ready to change, but she doesn’t have anyone but me. ”

I twisted the cap from my bottle between my fingers. “You shouldn’t have to be that for your mom, Chase. She should’ve been that for you.”

He leaned back in the chair. “Yeah. I know.”

“Can I ask you something?” My pulse rushed.

“Sure.”

“Can I . . . touch you this time?” I forced myself to look at him even though I knew my cheeks were stained pink.

His lips parted. “I’m fine, Maddie. I don’t?—”

“No, it’s not about that.” It was kind of about that, but I’d been considering asking him since that afternoon, before I knew about his meeting with the parole officer.

“I’ve never done that before, and when you asked me what I wanted last night— I guess I’ve never thought about that much, either.

And then this popped into my head, so I thought?—”

“Sure.” Chase’s chest lifted and fell in quick succession.

“I won’t stay long. I know you have to leave.”

“You can stay as long as you want.” Chase set his water on the desk, then stood. “How do you . . . where do you want me?” He looked at the bed, then looked away. His fingers trembled.

“You’re nervous.” I didn’t mean to call him out, but it was comforting. To see I wasn’t the only one.

He breathed a laugh. “Not nervous. Just adrenaline.”

I grinned. “Excited, then.” He looked at me through his lashes, and a flash of heat hit me square in my middle. “Lie down.” I pointed at the bed, right where I’d been the night before. I set down my water bottle then moved toward the lamp.

I hesitated. “Can I leave it on?”

He dropped onto the bed and propped himself up with the pillows. “Seems hardly fair.”

“Hey, that was your rule last night, not mine.”

His mouth quirked. “It’s your study plan.”

I grinned. “The light stays on.” I took a step toward him. “But you have to close your eyes. That makes me nervous.” I pointed at him watching me.

“Again. Hardly fair.”

I shrugged unapologetically, and he chuckled. When his eyes were closed, I climbed onto the bed and kneeled next to him. For a moment, I just looked. Staring at all the parts of him that I wanted to inspect but couldn’t without looking like a psychopath in public.

I leaned over, starting with the line of his jaw. “You shaved.”

“I did.”

I played with the corner of his mustache, and he grinned. “When did this start?”

“It was a joke last fall with my friends.”

“Friends from . . .”

“The Hitmen.”

I tried not to get all jittery. It wasn’t a secret that he’d played pro hockey. “And you know Alvin Bennett.”

Chase’s eyes blinked open. “How do you know that?”

I put my hand over his eyes, forcing them closed again. “Blakely told me. About your non-profit. And I heard about you paying half of Axel’s rent.” I traced my fingers down his forearm, the warmth of his skin seeping into my fingertips. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were pissed. You’re a little scary when you’re pissed.”

I laughed and pushed up his sleeve, revealing a pale scar that curved near his elbow. His bicep flexed under my touch. “Did you get this in a fight?”

“Bench press. Bad spotter.”

I let my hand travel up over his shoulder and to his chest, pressing against the solid muscle. His heartbeat thudded against my palm. Fast. “Why did you lend Axel the money?”

I traced the line between his abs, then skimmed the waistband of his jeans before sliding my fingers under his shirt. His quick intake of breath sent a thrill down my spine.

“You’re asking me to think. And that’s a little hard right now.”

I grinned. The idea of him enjoying this—of him feeling the way I’d felt last night—made me feel powerful. Sexy. “Sorry. You can tell me later.”

He caught my hand with his, holding it against his stomach, his T-shirt stuck between us. “I lived out of my truck. For about six months.”

“What?”

Chase kept his eyes closed, his brow furrowed.

“I didn’t tell my coaches. I didn’t want to seem weak.

” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I eventually found a place, but it was expensive in BC, and I didn’t have any skills.

I started working at the garage. That made enough for me to pay rent, but it never felt easy. ”

Puzzle pieces tumbled into place one after the other. Chase fixing my Rabbit. Volunteering with YPP. Helping Axel. All of it made sense.

And I couldn’t sit there and only touch him with one hand.

I lifted from the mattress and threw my leg over his waist, settling my thighs against his hips. I slid my other hand beneath his shirt and lifted it, drinking in the sight of his stomach and chest. He was thicker now, more filled out, and I liked it. A lot.

Without thinking, I curled over him, tossing my curls to one side and dropped my lips to the dip between his pecs. He didn’t have much chest hair, and I wondered if he shaved.

I kissed him again and again, rolling his shirt up centimetre by centimetre.

And it wasn’t about whether I was doing it right.

I kissed him because I wanted him to know that he was good.

That I was sorry he had to live like that.

I wanted to pull him into my arms and hold him, but since he was nearly twice my size, this was the best I could do.

Chase lifted his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, then reached for mine. I dipped my head so he could pull it off, sucking in a breath as his hands splayed across my bare back, catching on my bra strap.

Yeah. I was done touching him slowly.

I curled my hands under his arms and pulled myself flush against him, then kissed him.

Lights flashed behind my eyes as we came together, and I pulled back, our lips barely touching as I worked to catch my breath.

When I was mostly sure I wasn’t going to pass out, I pressed in, pulling his lower lip between mine.

Where was this coming from? I’d never kissed anyone like this, never been the one to instigate or take charge. But it felt so natural with Chase. There was no performance, no proving myself. Just simple want. Curiosity.

I slipped my tongue past his lips, and his fingertips pressed into my back, pulling me hard against him. Everything was quiet and loud all at once. The hum in my ears. The pulse in my throat. The low, rough sound Chase made when I shifted my weight and felt him react beneath me.

Chase looped his hand in my hair and tugged my head to the side, kissing down my jaw, my neck.

I pulled my hands out from underneath him, needing to touch him, to?—

He rolled, taking me with him, and caged me against the bed. His weight dropped over me, and I gasped.

“Did I hurt you?” he rasped.

I didn’t answer, just wrapped my legs over his and pulled his lips to mine. “Chase.”

“Maddie.”

I arched into him, curling my fingers into his back, needing to be closer, desperate for?—

A knock exploded against the door, and I yelped. We froze, our chests heaving.

Another knock. Louder this time. “Coach Wilson?” Blakely’s voice was unmistakable. “You decent?”

Chase cursed under his breath and dropped his head, then pulled himself off me, adjusting his pants. I searched for my shirt, but he was already walking to the door. I dropped to the floor, hiding behind the bed.

The door clicked. “Yeah?”

“Hey, coach. Ah . . . sorry to bother you when you were . . . sleeping.”

“Mmhmm.”

I stuffed my fist against my mouth to keep from laughing.

Blakely cleared his throat. “I know it’s late, but there’s a player in the lobby. Currently with Vancouver. He played at the invitational and wanted to have a word. Since you’re leaving in the morning?—”

“Right. Yeah. I can come down in a minute.”

My heart thudded in my throat. I swallowed hard. Rational thought slowly formed through the haze of the last fifteen minutes. What was I doing? Had I come up here knowing it would go this far? If Blakely wouldn’t have come to the door, would I have stopped? Did I want to stop?

The door clicked shut. I waited until I heard his footsteps returning, then peeked out from my hiding spot.

Chase stood at the foot of the bed. He ran a hand over his face. He noted the hesitation in my face instantly. “You okay?”

I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ears. “You have to go.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “Just for a minute.”

I looked at the clock. It was already past ten. “You have to get up early.” I pushed up from the floor and finally found my shirt between the bed and the nightstand.

“Maddie—”

“It’s fine.” I kept my eyes lowered and pulled my shirt over my head.

Then Chase was there behind me, pulling the fabric down as I turned. “What are you thinking?”

I gave him a small smile, my eyes stinging. “That this has been . . . the best weekend I’ve had in a long time.”

Chase smoothed my hair, tucking my curls behind my ear. “But?”

“But now we’re going back home. Where I’m going to be a student again. And you’re going to still be a faculty member.” He pressed his lips together and gave a small nod. “And I’m going to be gone for the?—”

“You’re not sharing a room with Axel, are you?”

I laughed. “No. Why? Are you jealous?”

His jaw ticked. “I don’t like it when he calls you Maddie girl.”

My smile widened. “What else don’t you like?” I couldn’t get enough of this, but it certainly wasn’t helping the situation.

“If he could stop feeling you up every time you study with him, that’d be great.”

I stifled a laugh. I wanted to push him back on the bed and pick up where we left off, and that realization sobered me. We only had a few weeks.

I shoved my hands in my pockets so I didn’t reach for him. “What do you want?”

He looked away, then dragged a hand over his jaw. “I don’t want any more, Maddie.”

I frowned. While I hadn’t expected him to drop to one knee and declare, “You! All I want is you!” I also hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean?”

He leaned back on the desk. “Wanting doesn’t make a difference. It either is or it isn’t.”

The words landed like a slap. It took me a minute, but I could see the truth in them. At the same time— “Why try then? Why work for anything if any possibility is acceptable?”

“I didn’t say it was acceptable.”

That sadness in his eyes returned, and I didn’t need to ask any other questions to understand. Chase had fought for what he wanted and lost. He’d pushed through incredible struggles to play hockey professionally, and now it was taken from him.

I thought about the Rhodes, about my academic dreams, and Shar’s comment in the parking lot. Was this where we all were headed? Had we all bought into the idea that if we worked hard enough, dreamed big enough, then someday we’d get where we wanted to go, but really, most of us would stop short?

“When do you submit your application?” Chase asked.

“End of summer.” Again, he didn’t have to say it.

He nodded. “And you’re going to study abroad.” From the second Chase had opened that door to Coach Blakely, my brain had been running behind the scenes doing the damn math.

Rate of emotional freefall in Chase’s gravity: approximately 9.

8 m/s2. Time left in the semester: seven weeks, give or take.

Probability of Chase staying on campus: close to zero, given the way he was talking, which meant I didn’t even have to take into account my own potential moving date to know that the probability of heartbreak was at least 87%.

Margin of error: +/- 4% depending on how vivid that makeout session remained in my brain.

Standard deviation of rational thought: skyrocketing.

Chase tugged at my waist, curving his hand around my neck and pulling my head to rest on his chest.

And just like that, the next number surfaced.

Probability of me falling in love with Chase Wilson if this continued: 100%.

Probability of surviving it when we inevitably broke things off?

Approaching zero.

I didn’t have to think about the repercussions to his job or my opportunities with the committee or Douglas. Those just piled onto the already insurmountable data.

Chase didn’t want any more, but I still did. I wasn’t ready to accept defeat yet. “You should go,” I murmured.

He pulled back and cupped my face in his hands. We both knew I wouldn’t be there when he got back.