“Just answer the question,” he demands seriously.
I cross my arms over my chest and roll my eyes. “Of course I trust you.”
I probably trust him more than I should.
“Then, trust me when I say, if I didn’t become a hockey player, my backup career would have been a race car driver. You’re in safe hands, I promise. I’ve had race car lessons and everything.”
My lips pull up in a smile. “You really are just a spoiled boy, aren’t you? I wouldn’t be surprised if you had been taught by someone like Vin Diesel. In fact, you probably have his number in your phone.”
He throws his head back on a hearty chuckle. “Vin Diesel?”
“Yeah, you know from Fast and Furious,” I tell him.
“You’re crazy. You know that, right?”
I beam at him. “Yeah, it’s what having four brothers does to you.”
“Well, for the record, I don’t have Vin Diesel’s number. Unfortunately, my contact list has zero A-list stars on it. I mean, I’d kill to have Margot Robbie’s number.”
“The chick who played Harley Quinn in the Suicide Squad, right? She is hot.”
“Yeah, but I preferred her in The Wolf of Wall Street.” He grins devilishly, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out why he prefers that movie.
I smack him against his arm, laughing.
He holds up his hand in surrender. “What?” He chuckles.
“You’re such a guy! I love how the appearance of some pretty tits can make a film memorable for you. Head out of the gutter, bad boy, and show me what you’ve got,” I say, pointing in front of us.
“Sure thing,” is all he says before he revs the engine, causing my entire body to come to life with a million vibrations.
I look in the side mirror and see smoke coming from the back tires as he shows his skills off with a burnout. He turns to me with another devilish grin, and then, without a word of warning, we’re sailing forward. My stomach lunges as the car goes from naught to what feels like a thousand in approximately six seconds, and I hold on to the door handle for dear life.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I girlie scream through the adrenaline as we rocket down the track. My eyes flash to the speedometer and see we’re moving at one hundred twenty miles per hour.
My eyes flicker between the track in front of us and the speedometer, the number rapidly going up, quicker than I can even blink.
One hundred thirty miles per hour.
One hundred forty miles per hour.
One hundred fifty miles per hour.
He slows down a little as we round a corner, the back end of the car drifting, his hand rapidly changing the stick shift before we’re flying again.
One hundred sixty miles per hour.
One hundred seventy motherfucking miles per hour.
I can barely catch my breath, but when I do, I just start laughing. It’s a loud, uncontrollable, hyena-style, crazy-lady laugh, and I’m in hysterics as he makes his way round the track a few times.
I turn to Chase, and though he’s focused solely on the road, the smile that he has plastered on his face is like his birthday, Easter, Fourth of July and Christmas have come at once.
“Oh my God, you’re loving this, you speed freak!” I exclaim through my laughter.
I didn’t know it was possible, but his smile only grows.
“Wait until the grand finale,” he interjects.
Before I can ask why, the car quickly declines speed, and when I think we’re going to come to a stop, I almost piss myself when the car starts spinning in circles, the tires spiraling, the back end drifting. I lose count of how many times it spins, but eventually, it comes to a stop.
I fall back to my seat with a dazed look, breathing heavily, my heart thumping almost violently inside my chest while my world spins. My entire body is shaking with pure adrenaline, my insides vibrating, my thighs and pussy quivering with lust. I’ve never been an adrenaline junkie, never been the one for high-speed activities or living on the edge of danger, so right now, I’m struggling to know what to do with myself or how I’m supposed to feel with a surge of adrenaline like this.
Once the dizziness subsides, I turn my head to look at Chase, who’s watching me with careful eyes. I don’t say anything, just stare at him. My instincts want me to throw caution to the wind and jump his bones and fuck him senseless. I can’t deny it; I’m horny as hell, and as much as I want to say it’s from the excitement of the ride, I know, deep down, it’s more about the person who drove the car than the actual ride.
It feels like I’ve just had the best sex of my life, and I’m left craving more.
“You okay there?” he asks with amusement. When I’m unable to utter a single word, he continues, “That was so badass that you want me to do it again, don’t you?”
I nod, my entire face lighting up with excitement. “Hell fucking yes!”
And, with that, vibrations travel directly to my clit, and we’re shooting off. For the next fifteen minutes, we just live in the moment at lightning speed, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins is quite frankly the best feeling in the world. I laugh, scream, and cheer as Chase shows me exactly how much of a bad boy he is. I feel alive, and it feels goddamn good.
When we come to a complete stop, we continue to laugh for at least two minutes straight while we come down from our speed high.
Once my laughter dies down and I’m able to catch my breath, I turn to him. “You really are a bad boy. You have mad skills,” I tell Chase.
He grins. “I wish I could take all the credit, but this baby did all the work,” he says, smoothing his fingers over the steering wheel like a sexy caress.
I’m not gonna lie—I’m a bit jealous of the wheel.
“I’ve worked up an appetite after that. You want to grab some breakfast?”
He looks to the clock in the center console and winces. My stomach drops.
I know what he’s going to say before he says it. For just a short time, while we got lost in the moment, I forgot for a minute that he was married and had a wife he promised, “Till death do us part.”
Suddenly, I feel like the other woman. The one who spends an incredible night with the guy of her dreams, but he quickly returns to his reality before the sun even comes up, playing happy family with his wife while the other woman picks up the pieces of her slowly broken heart every time he walks out of her door.
I know it’s ridiculous to think that, especially since he’s not playing happy family; instead, he’s dealing with the loss of his wife who isn’t even dead yet. But, the more time I spend with him, the harder it’s becoming to watch him leave, so he can take care of the woman who has been his forever since childhood.
“I’d love to, but I’m usually at the hospital by now. Rain check?”
I force out a smile that’s anything but genuine. “Yeah, sure.”
He must hear the underlying disappointment in my voice because his brows draw down with regret. “I know it seems crazy to see my wife daily when she probably doesn’t even know I’m there, a wife I’m no longer in love with, but I’m technically still married to her, so I have to stick to it to the end. You get that, don’t you? I mean, she won’t ever know I’m there, but I’ll always know. I’ll always remember. Apart from her sister, I’m the only family she has, and no one should ever leave this world alone.”
All the adrenaline that was previously running through my veins now becomes a dull, throbbing pain at the center of my chest. “No, I don’t think that’s crazy at all. You’re just being an amazing husband. I get it. We can have breakfast anytime. In fact, I have loads to do this morning anyway, and I’ve got my sessions this evening.” I might be lying to save face a little, but I don’t want him feeling guilty for bailing on breakfast.
“Okay.” He smiles. “Let’s get you back.”
We drive in relative silence for the next few minutes, but as we make our way through the town that’s filled with Christmas joy, it reminds me that tom
orrow is Christmas Eve.
“How are you spending Christmas Day?”
He glances briefly in my direction before returning his attention back to the road. “Well, I’ll probably spend some time with Olivia, and then I don’t know. Honestly, I’ve not even thought about it. It’ll probably be just like any other day. Birthdays and Christmases haven’t exactly been on my radar for a while. What about you?”
“I’ll be at my parents with my brothers. Mom always makes a huge Christmas feast. Bigger than Thanksgiving.”
“That sounds incredible,” he says with a hint of melancholy to his voice. “I can’t remember when I last had a home-cooked meal.”
“You should join us for dinner,” I tell him, hating the thought of him spending Christmas alone on the day that will be his last Christmas with Olivia.
“For dinner?”
“Yeah. You shouldn’t be alone on Christmas.”
He shrugs his shoulders, his eyes never leaving the road in front of him. “I don’t know…I probably won’t be much company. I’d hate to be a sour-faced dinner guest.”
“Yeah, I understand, but if you change your mind, you’re still welcome.”
We come to a stop at a set of traffic lights, and a warm hand covers mine on my thigh. Just that single touch sets my body alight, and for a moment, I find it impossible to catch my breath.
“Thank you. You’re so fucking amazing. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”
His fingers squeeze tighter, and I’ve forgotten how to breathe altogether now.
I gulp. “I am kind of awesome,” I tell him with a jittery laugh.
He chuckles. He lets go of my hand when the light turns green, and I hate how cold my hand is without his touch.
Shit.
The sensations he brings out in me, is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I’ve been with guys who made my stomach go funny with butterflies, but this is in a league of its own. Instead of butterflies, they’re big-ass birds taking flight. Instead of tingles, I feel head to toe goose bumps. Instead of lust, my body burns with a pure need that makes me dizzy. He unnerves me yet excites me, terrifies me yet thrills me. It’s a contradiction of feelings, ones I know I shouldn’t be feeling, but the more invested I become in this friendship, the deeper I fall.
Jo’s earlier warnings float through my head, warning me not to get hurt or too attached, and though I should have listened to her, he needs me more than I need him. If I have to force my feelings for him away while he focuses on Olivia, then so be it. I’m a big girl. I’ve dealt with bigger issues than a guy. Then again, he isn’t just any other guy.
We eventually pull up in front of my place. After spending all morning in his car, I’ve become accustomed to the vibrating roar of the engine, so when he switches it off, the silence seems foreign. An awkwardness crackles around us, and with the way Chase nervously smiles, it gives me the impression he doesn’t want our morning to end. I’m not usually one who’s lost for words, but the silence continues because, deep down, there is only one thing I want to do. Unfortunately, it’s the one thing I can’t do, so instead, I give him my brightest smile and hold my hand out for a high five.
“Okay, big guy, I’m out of here.”
He slaps his hand against mine, and I pretend the mere touch of his hand on mine isn’t a direct line to my heart.
“I hope that’s not the last I’ll see of bad-boy Chase.”
Any shyness he had a few moments ago disappears when he gives me the sexiest smirk. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I grin as I unfasten my seat belt. Then, my face returns solemn. “I’m here if you need me. And the offer still stands for Christmas dinner.”
He tips his head forward with a nod. “Thanks, Kaelyn.”
And, with that, I exit the car.
Fucking Tears
Chase
Olivia’s room is surrounded in Christmas decorations, and instead of it looking cheerful and festive, like it did in Kaelyn’s living room a few days ago, it all looks wrong inside this clinical hospital room. The bright colors of the tree dim against the cold white walls, the sound of the moving train in the corner of the room is drowned out by the beep of Olivia’s life support machine, and the Christmas tunes coming from the portable speaker sound more haunted than jolly. This is not Christmas—at least, not in the way it should be, not with Olivia unconscious and none the wiser to all the trouble Kennedy, her sister, has gone through to make today as special as possible. I watch Kennedy as she dresses Olivia like a porcelain doll into a knitted Christmas sweater, and I bite back the rage I feel simmering in the pit of my stomach. She’s treating Christmas as if, at any minute, Olivia will awake from her vegetative state and celebrate with us. She won’t though. She never will, and with the bad news the doctor gave us earlier after Olivia’s recent CT scan, witnessing Kennedy treat today like any other day is leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Instead of staring daggers at me, Chase, you could, you know, get in a festive mood. If not for you, for Olivia.”
I’ve been trying to be respectful of Kennedy, but the thing about Olivia’s younger sister is that she has to poke the bear until he rears his ugly head. I give out a deep breath, hoping it will ease the tight sensation I’ve felt across my chest ever since the doctor spoke to us earlier.
“The Christmas spirit you’re so desperately wanting to achieve doesn’t hide the obvious fact that she isn’t coming back.”
“Don’t say that,” she spits out, hurt spilling in her eyes. “There is still hope. She was grinding her teeth yesterday.”
I shake my head, allowing the words the doctor said earlier to reverberate in my head.
“Olivia’s PVS shows no signs of improving. She’s still unaware of her surroundings and herself. All stimuli have been unsuccessful, and she still isn’t initiating her own breaths. Continuous medical treatment is no longer at the patient’s best interest, only the baby. I have spoken to the OB/GYN, and she’s confident she could deliver the baby now at thirty-four weeks, but to avoid any possible complications, she recommends delivering at thirty-eight weeks. It’s on both our recommendations that we wait until thirty-eight weeks, and once the baby is born, we will then stop all medical treatment for Olivia. It’s in Olivia’s great interest because a recovery at this stage is highly unlikely. I’m talking ninety-eight percent unlikely. Now, there is no need to decide on anything right now, but it might be a good time to start getting everything in order.”
“Getting everything in order.”
Just those four simple words finalize Olivia’s prognosis in a way that makes me feel physically ill, the tight pressure against my chest feeling like dead weight. I’m barely able to breathe at the prospect of saying good-bye to her in four weeks. I guess I’ve been waiting for a miracle, but the only miracle in all of this is that I haven’t gone insane.
I hate all of this.
I hate that she’s fading.
I hate that I’m going to become a widower in my thirties.
I hate that she’ll never get to meet her baby.
Mostly though, I hate that, even though I chose to walk away from her so that I wouldn’t have to witness her kill herself, I’ve still been caught up in the cross fire. And here I am, witnessing her dying, and the hurt I anticipated I would feel, the pain I wanted to avoid, is nothing compared to the grueling agony that’s killing me from the inside out.
What the fuck was she thinking when she took those motherfucking drugs? Did she have a fucking clue what would happen to the people who loved her if she died? Did she give a crap about her husband and her sister when she was injecting that shit into her veins?
Here we both are, picking up the pieces of her choices, and where the hell is she? Is she in purgatory, laughing her ass off at us right now while she waits for the pearly white gates to open for her? Does she even give a shit about her unborn baby who won’t get to meet her mom?
I don’t even know what to name her, and now, I onl
y have four weeks to figure it all out. Four weeks is all I have left until I have to say good-bye to the girl I would have given up my whole world for.
My heart begins to hammer in my chest, and with the way my palms are sweating and my vision becoming woozy, I know, if I don’t get out of here in the next few minutes, I’m going to have a full-blown panic attack.
I stand abruptly from my chair and grab my jacket.
“Where are you going?” Kennedy asks with pain etched along her face.
“I can’t be here right now,” I breathlessly spit out before pressing a quick kiss to Olivia’s stomach because the only person I won’t ever get mad at is this innocent baby. She’s the only silver lining in this living nightmare.
“Chase, the doctor’s wrong. She’s been moving her fingers, opening her eyes. She’s still there; I can feel it. Don’t give up on her.”
My eyes angrily flash to hers. “I’m not giving up on her. She gave up on us when she chose drugs over us! You need to face facts, she’s dying, and nothing—not even a miracle—will save her. I will be here until the very end, but today, right now, I can’t be around her. It’s too much. I need to figure out my shit, and being here is only making me angry. You do what you need to do to get through today,” I tell her, pointing to the Christmas paraphernalia. “And I’ll do what I need to do.”
And, with that, I turn on my heels and hightail it out of there. It isn’t until I’m back in my car with the window down that I’m able to catch my breath. The one person who is the only calm throughout this storm pops into my head, and her presence calls out to me like a beacon in the night.
I don’t hesitate when I dial her number.
She answers after the third ring, and the sound of her sweet voice, a little breathless from what I assume is laughter with deep chuckles in the background, is exactly what I needed to hear right now.
“Hey! Merry Christmas!” she answers.
I don’t reply. I simply close my eyes and take a deep breath, letting Kaelyn’s voice alone soothe me.
“Chase, is everything okay?” she asks when I still don’t say anything, her voice now mixed with concern and worry.
My Forever (Our Forever Book 3) Page 18