Page 87 of Checking It Twice
Like I never wanted her so badly it terrified me.
“She works here,” I say finally. “It’s complicated.”
“So make it uncomplicated.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is. You like her, she likes you, you’re both adults. What’s complicated about that?”
Everything. The fact that she’s already been burned by a hockey player. The fact that I might not be ready for what she deserves. What if she’s a rebound? I could never use her like that.
“I fucked up,” I admit.
“How?”
The memory of that last night makes my jaw clench. Clare needy and hopeful and gazing at me in the firelight. Rather than follow her upstairs, I forced myself to endure a sleepless night on the sofa.
“She was ready for more. I wasn’t.”
“And now?”
Now I can’t sleep without dreaming about the way she felt in my arms. Can’t focus on anything without wondering what she’s doing, who she’s talking to, if she’s thinking about me at all.
I think I made the biggest mistake of my life.
“And now I feel like I’m dying,” I say honestly.
Chase grins like he’s been waiting for this admission. “Good. That’s how you know it matters.”
“This isgood?”
“This is progress. Hannah leaving felt like failure. This feels like loss. Big difference.”
I stare at him, trying to process the distinction. “You’re saying I should feel worse?”
“I’m saying you should feel everything. And then you should figure out what you’re gonna do about it.”
What I’m gonna do about it. Like it’s that simple. Like I can just walk into her office tomorrow and say what—sorry I was too chicken to go all in with you, want to try again?
“She probably hates me,” I say.
“Only one way to find out.”
I finish my beer, feeling marginally more human with food and alcohol in my system. But the ache in my chest hasn’t lessened. If anything, it’s gotten sharper, more insistent.
“What if I’m not ready?” I ask. “What if I screw this up too?”
“Then you’ll figure it out together. That’s what people who give a damn do.”
People who give a damn. Yeah, I definitely give a damn. Too much of a damn. Enough to make me question everything I thought I knew about moving on, about playing it safe, about the difference between settling and fighting for something real.
“She’s amazing,” I say quietly.
“Yeah?”
“She let me take care of her when she had a migraine.” The words tumble out faster than I can stop them. “She fits with my family like she’s always been there. My niece Sophie calls her Aunt Clare. My mom wants to adopt her.”
“Sounds like you’re all set then.”
