Hate to Love You

by Isabelle Richards

  Chase

  Arianna runs her finger from my chest to my abs. “So how does it feel to be a 49er, Mr. Brennan?”

  “I’m still in shock.”

  She giggles and pulls up the sheets. “Damn, I guess my blow jobs are better than I thought.”

  I lean down and kiss her. “Yes, they are, but that’s not what I meant. This just doesn’t seem real yet. It feels like yesterday we were debating whether or not I should stay for my senior year, and now I’m a first round draft pick. I’d say that was worth giving up my last year at Stanford. I can’t believe they traded up to get me.”

  “Me either,” she scoffs. “Who wants a quarterback who throws off his back foot?”

  I pull the pillow out from under her head and gently bash her with it. “Always a fucking critic. I just got drafted. Just for today, can we at least pretend you think I’m a good quarterback?”

  She plasters on the fake smile I detest. “Chase Brennan, you are the best quarterback to ever play the game.” She goes deadpan. “Is that better?”

  Reaching under her knee, I tickle her sensitive spot.

  “Please,” she begs, “stop. Please!”

  I won’t relent. “Are you going to stop being a brat?”

  “Yes, I promise,” she screams.

  Reluctantly, I stop. I love to see her smile like that.

  She lies next to me, trying to catch her breath. “You know I think you’re amazing, don’t you?”

  I kiss the top of her head. “I know. You’re an Aldrich. Criticism is a sign of affection.”

  “All kidding aside, I couldn’t be prouder of you. You did it. You’re an NFL quarterback. You’re living the dream.”

  I kiss her until she’s breathless, enveloping her in my arms. “No, baby,” I say when we break for air. “That’s living the dream. The QB thing is just my day job.”

  “Oh, you’re smooth, Brennan.” She smiles and leans into me. “So what’s up next?”

  “Tons of interviews. ESPN The Magazine is doing a huge spread. We’re shooting the cover in a couple of days.”

  “Guess we’ll be on the newsstands at the same time. Shall we bet on who sells more?”

  I try to remember our conversations to see if she told me about a cover shoot. Her calendar is next to impossible to keep up with. “I didn’t know you were doing a cover next month.”

  She looks down and pulls away a little. “Yeah, I was going to tell you. I just didn’t want to bring it up with the draft and everything.”

  She’s retreating which means I’m not going to like this. “Well, the draft is over, so I guess you can spill it.”

  “I’m number one on the Maxim 100. I shoot the cover in a few days.”

  I sit up and lean against the headboard. “No fucking way. Arianna, you have to be fucking kidding me.”

  Sitting up, she pulls the sheet around her and slides to the end of the bed. “It’s not Playboy, for Christ’s sake. I’ve already spoken to them, and it’ll be tasteful. I’ll be in tennis garb, just suggestive tennis garb. I think it’ll help me land Polo and American Express for another three years. It’s a smart play. It’s good exposure.”

  “No, it’s you exposed! Just because they pay you doesn’t mean it’s good for business.” How can she not understand that nothing is worth putting herself out there like that? Since when does being an athlete equate to being a sex symbol? Yes, she’s sexy as hell, but can’t she just be happy playing tennis and being with me? She always needs more; she’s never satisfied. All this other shit she does sucks up precious time that I crave.

  “Stop making me sound like a whore!”

  “Try to see it from my perspective. Every guy I know knows what my girlfriend looks like naked. Fuck, at Spence’s bachelor party, I had to sit there while all the guys went on and on about how great it would be to fuck you. I couldn’t say or do a goddamn thing, and it practically killed me.” My fists clench as I think about how many times her name was brought up. They couldn’t believe Spence and I grew up with the Arianna Aldrich. The more we drank, the more the guys brought her up, and the more I wanted to strangle them.

  She pulls the sheets tighter around her. “First, I’ve never been shot naked. Ever. Nor will I be. Second, it isn’t my fault your friends are pervs.”

  “All men are like that. You’re delusional if you think otherwise.”

  “I told you we could go public, but you said no. That was your choice, so now you need to deal with it.”

  I slap the bed. “I said I didn’t want to do it before the draft. Excuse me for wanting one of the biggest moments in my life to be about me and not about you.”

  She gasps and stands. “Fuck you! I’m not trying to steal your spotlight.” She grabs her dress off the floor and throws it on.

  “Maybe not intentionally, but you would. The story would go from me as a quarterback to me as your boyfriend. It’s bad enough I’m stepping into the great Aiden Aldrich’s shoes. I don’t need people thinking I’m Mr. Arianna Aldrich on top of it.”

  “Oh! My! God! You’re never going to be able to handle that I’m successful. You’re always going to be threatened by it. It’s a big world, Chase, with lots of media. There’s room for both of us in the headlines. I’m not stealing the spotlight from you.”

  Damn it. Nothing is coming out right. I stand, pull my pants back on, and pace. “Look, this conversation is going off the rails. I don’t want this for you. You don’t need to do this. I can’t stand the thought of my girlfriend whoring herself out for a few bucks.”

  Wham. She punches me in the goddamn eye.

  “Here’s an idea. I’ll stop being your girlfriend. Then you won’t have to concern yourself with who I’m whoring myself out to.”

  I grab her arm before she makes it to the door, more concerned with the pain in her voice than the swelling of my eye. “It’s all coming out wrong. Please, that’s not what I meant. I’m just worried about what all this exposure will do to you, to us. You’re not a product. You’re so much more than that.” The tension in her body softens, and I loosen my grip on her arm. “You’ve spent your whole life in front of the world, and it’s been so hard on you. I hate to see you keep doing it. I want you to save a piece for yourself. For us.”

  “My window to be successful is so small,” she says. “I feel like I have to capitalize while I can. That’s what I was raised to do. Talk to Daddy. He agrees with all of my business moves.”

  Fucking Aiden. If for once he’d be her father and not her business teacher… “Your father doesn’t have the greatest history of putting his family before his career.”

  She pulls her arm back, and her eyes grow wide. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Perhaps if he had worried less about his window and more about keeping his family safe, Savannah would still be here.”

  The second the words come out of my mouth, I regret them. When her fist meets my other eye, I know I deserved it. At least she was kind enough not to hit the same eye again. She slams the door on the way out, and I don’t try to stop her. I overstepped. I wholeheartedly believe what I said, but some points don’t need to be made.

  Aiden was one of the first sports mega stars. His fame branched out far beyond the lines of the football field. He was on the covers of magazines, on television. His face was everywhere. Savannah had been a household name since she was fifteen. Together, they were larger than life. Everyone wanted to know them, to be like them, to have a piece of them. With great fame comes great enemies. When Savannah’s hate mail came rolling in by the bagful and psychos started stalking her, they ignored it. He acted as though they were nothing but gnats buzzing around in their perfect lives. Until one gnat slit his wife’s throat. Savannah never should have been on the field, but he’d wanted her there so they could do a spot for one of their sponsors.

  Aiden’s a great man, and I love him dearly. What happened wasn’t his fault, but it could have been prevented if he’d cared less about being a professional and mor
e about safety. He raised Arianna to think just like him. There’s always one more tournament to play, one more sponsor to woo, one more mile to run. She’s constantly striving for more, and I hate that he’s filled her head with unattainable expectations. I just want her happy, fulfilled. Being on the cover of Maxim won’t accomplish that. She’s doing it for all the wrong reasons, and that kills me.

  I should be out partying and celebrating the best day of my life. Instead, I’m lying in my hotel room with a raw steak on each of my eyes and hoping I won’t look as bad in the morning. Ah, who am I kidding? I’m hiding and licking my wounds.

  Sleep never comes. I spend the whole night tossing and turning, replaying our fight over and over. I may be right, but everything I said was wrong.

  She’s right. My issues aren’t all about protecting her. I’m fucking jealous. I have a girlfriend that every red-blooded man in the world wants, and I can’t stake my claim. I know guys go after her while she’s on tour, and I’m thousands of miles away and can’t do shit about it. I don’t want to share her—what’s so wrong with that? Is it so wrong that I want to preserve that part of her for just me?

  I know she can make a ton of money modeling, more money than she could spend in a lifetime, but she doesn’t have to. It kills me that she worries about her future. Doesn’t she know that I’ll take care of her? I just signed a twenty million dollar contract with a fifteen million dollar signing bonus. Even if I don’t play one down, we’ll have more money than most people see in a lifetime. How can she worry about her future?

  Maybe she really doesn’t get it. I dial my agent. “Scott, I need you to get me an appointment at Harry Winston.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chase

  That couldn’t have gone any worse if I’d tried. The last thing I’d wanted to do was upset her. Today has been the best day I’ve had in such a long time. I went back and forth between competitive rage and raging lust, but I felt alive. I’d found my spark, and just like that, it was gone. Running off into a lightning storm like a lunatic.

  The second I realized she wasn’t coming back, I got in the cart to chase her. I searched the course in the driving rain for hours, but I never found her. Not that she would have let me. She’d rather lie down in a muddy sand trap than let me help her. I should have just driven straight in, but I couldn’t. My mind was flooded with images of her soaked and shivering and struck by lightning. Or attacked by a mountain lion. Or kidnapped by a biker gang. The last one wasn’t too likely, but fears aren’t always rational.

  “Did any of you see Arianna Aldrich come through here?” I ask the cart staff when I pull up to the clubhouse.

  The kid’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit! You’re Chase Brennan!”

  “Yup. Sure am. So did you see her? We were out playing when the storm hit, and we got separated.”

  The kid shakes his head. “Sorry, haven’t seen her. Can I get you to sign an autograph?”

  I pound the steering wheel with my fist. “Fuck. I’ve got to go back out there and look for her. Do you have any flashlights? She’s been gone for hours. Maybe we should call the police?”

  Another kid comes out from behind a row of carts. “Oh, man. Look, Mr. Brennan, um, you don’t need to look for her. She came through a little bit ago and we called her a cab. She left a little while ago.”

  Kid One elbows him. “Dude, we weren’t supposed to say anything.”

  “Screw that man, this is Chase Brennan,” Kid Two says. “I’m not lying to him, no matter how hot she is.”

  Able to breathe for the first time in hours, I stand. “Don’t worry about it, guys. I won’t tell her I found out from you. Her cart died in the tunnel on four. Can one of you go get it and bring me her bag? I’ll be inside waiting for it at the bar.” Before they take off, I get their names so I can sign some autographs.

  I’m soaked through and through, so I make a pit stop at my car to scrounge up something to change into from my gym bag. I never pack for these sorts of things. When Ari and I were together, that was her job. She always made sure I had an umbrella, rain gear, and a change of clothes. I think the peanut butter crackers I ate today were a leftover from when we were together. Despite the fact that we were rarely in the same place, she kept my life on track.

  After a much-needed shower, I’m desperate for a drink. Even though I know she’s safe, my heart is still racing. I trudge my sore body up the stairs to the bar and find Jenna waiting for me. Just when I thought the day couldn’t get worse.

  “Chase,” she says firmly before I sit. She makes no motion of reaching for a hug, and neither do I.

  “Jenna, this is a surprise. What brings you here?”

  She folds her hands over her purse in her lap. “It was the funniest thing. I was watching the morning news, and your mother was on, talking about her foundation. You know, the one that’s so important to her whole family that even her NFL quarterback son took time out from his busy training schedule to play in this celebrity golf tournament. I found it so strange that I wasn’t told, since I’m going to be a member of this family soon.”

  “Honestly, Jenna, I totally forgot about it until yesterday.” A slight lie. I’d thought it was next week until Mom reminded me yesterday. “Plus, you hate spending time with my family.”

  She’s trying to play it cool but failing miserably. Her jaw is clenched so tight, it looks locked, and she’s gripping her clutch as though her life depends on it. “Had you returned any of my phone calls in the last two weeks, perhaps you could have told me it was coming up.”

  The bartender stops to take my order.

  “Johnny Walker.”

  The bartender gives me a sympathetic look and pours me a double. I have no idea how long Jenna has been here, but by the look on his face, I’m guessing she’s chewed his ear off. Poor guy.

  I turn to Jenna and try to conjure anything that could resemble patience. “The season’s started. You know I’m slammed. I believe I sent you a text saying just that.”

  “Yes, Chase. A text. I think I deserve more than a single text in two weeks.”

  I take a long sip of my whiskey. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’m under a ton of pressure, and the game has to be my top priority. The season is all I’m thinking about. This shouldn’t surprise you. I’ve told you for months that when the season started, my time would be limited.”

  “And yet here you are at a golf course, long after your mother’s event has been over. You have time to play golf all day, but you don’t have time to call me?”

  I silently laugh. “I needed today. If you ever bothered to listen to me or care about what’s been going on with me, you would understand.”

  “Maybe if you were staying with me rather than all the way out at your parents’ house, you’d have more time for me. Were you even going to tell me that you’d stopped staying at Charlie’s?”

  I shrug and lean into the bar. “Spence came home, and I wanted to spend some time at the ranch. It’s so much closer to the stadium. It just makes sense.”

  She slaps her purse on the bar and raises her voice. “I wanted you with me. Did that even factor in your mind?”

  I give her a warning look, letting her know not to make a scene. “I needed a little time to regroup and get focused before the season. Aiden and Pop have been helping me.” Another slight lie.

  “I’m sure I could help you,” she whines.

  I take a drink and try not to laugh. “You’d have to give a shit first.” There’re much nicer ways I could have said that, but I’m just too damn tired to care. I’ve been playing golf since eight, most of it in the rain, eaten nothing but two-year-old crackers, pissed off my ex, and now I’m dealing with Jenna’s bullshit. I’ve had my fill for the day, and my patience just ran out.

  Her jaw drops as she glares at me with disgust. “Of course I care.”

  A list of snarky comebacks comes to mind, but I keep them to myself. I have no desire to have this conversation, let alone ignite her furt
her. She turns on her stool. I know she’s trying to get me to look at her, but I just keep looking at anything but her.

  “I stopped by our house today, and I see that they’re already working on it. I take it you’ve approved plans. How could you do that without me?”

  I drain my glass. “Case in point, Jenna.” I so badly want to order another drink, but as soon as Ari’s bag is delivered, I need to get out of here. I’ll drink at home.

  “Chase? Answer me. How could you approve plans to renovate without at least running it by me? Don’t I get a say? Isn’t it supposed to be my house too? I had ideas.”

  The kids deliver Ari’s bag. I tip them and hand them their autographs. While my wallet is out, I throw a hundred down to cover my bar tab.

  “Whose bag is that?”

  I sling the bag over my shoulder. “I’ve got to go.”

  Jenna blocks my exit. Her face is sheet white, and her hands are trembling. “Those are ladies’ clubs. Whose bag is it?”

  “For the record, it’s my house, not our house yet. The way you’ve been behaving lately, I’m not sure it’ll ever be our house.”

  She’s smart enough not to follow me to the parking lot. I don’t know where things stand between us, but they’re going downhill fast. Whatever it is, I’ll sort it out after the season. That’s a long time to keep things in limbo, but I can’t waste a second worrying about Jenna and her drama. I need to get my head in the game. I caught a glimpse of my spark today, and I need to find a way to keep it. Everything else can wait.

  My fight with Ari was just as much my fault as hers, but I still feel like a dick. From the course to Aiden’s, it’s at least an hour drive, worse if there’s traffic. As soaked to the bone as she has to have been, it probably felt like an eternity. Again, not entirely my fault, but I feel bad. I give Spencer a call and he agrees to drive back to the course with me so I can pick up Ari’s car and bring it to her at Aiden’s. With his travel schedule and the preseason, we haven’t hung out without the family in months.

  After I pick him up, we shoot the shit for a bit, but I can tell he’s itching to tear into me. “Just say it, dude. I can feel you’ve got something to get off your chest, so just hit me with it.”