Chapter 36

White knuckled, I clutch my purse as I head downstairs. The hit he took didn't look pretty on the screen and once they took him back into the locker room, he never came back out. Muffled conversations are happening all around me as my head swirls with different scenarios. I hear fans saying things like "he's done" or "there goes our playoff run" and my heart rate picks up thinking about those things being true.

When I get down to the players exit, I find myself waiting an awfully long time before anyone even walks out. It's like the entire team has stayed back or something. Slowly, team members begin to filter out of the double doors. My phone dings with a text from Mia, letting me know that Diane is taking CeCe home.

God, CeCe. She watches every second of the games she can. When the other team tackled Chase, she didn't flinch at first. She's seen tackles happen often, but it wasn't until the rest of us gasped in the suite as we saw the replay on the screen that she looked back and forth between me and Diane. Looking for one of us to give her more insight into what just happened. When Diane told her that he was just going to get checked out in the locker room, she seemed to take that well. I don't think she understood what it could potentially be yet.

I know Chase has been dealing with knee pain all season. To my knowledge, he hasn't had any injury to them in the past, but you'd have to assume after a lifetime of playing a contact sport like football, your joints would eventually start to feel some aftereffects.

"He'll be a bit, Summer." Nate extends his arms to hug me as he walks out.

"Is he okay, though? What did they say after the game?"

Nate looks me in the eye and shakes his head. Shrugging his shoulder, he says, "You know him. Anything other than telling him he's fine isn't going to sit well with him."

My shoulders drop and I nod at Nate as he turns to walk away.

Almost thirty minutes later, I see Chase hobble out of the doors with a pair of crutches assisting him. He's working hard to keep himself steady and I can tell he's pissed off. Telling him it'll be okay is a waste of breath, even though it's the first thing I want to blurt out. I know one of his first thoughts had to be CeCe, though.

"Your mom took CeCe home. She saw the play, but I don't think understood what actually happened. I'm not sure if your mom will explain it to her or wait for you."

He nods, placing a hand on my shoulder. Whether it's for balance or out of a need to touch me, I'll take either right now.

I've seen Chase look frustrated. I've seen him sad and angry, but he looks hopeless right now. He doesn't even comment on the jersey he brought for me that I'm wearing. In fact, he doesn't say much of anything, but I tell myself not to take it personally.

"I don't really know what to say right now," I admit as he stands in front of me. His head hangs and I tilt mine underneath his, looking up at him. "Can I ask what the doctor said?"

I'd have to assume the crutches aren't a sign of good news, though.

"It's sprained, just need to keep weight off of it for a few days," he mumbles.

He says nothing more as he starts slowly making his way to his truck. His expression doesn't change as we walk and I slow my pace so he doesn't feel like he needs to rush. I can tell that alone is driving him crazy. A few fans are hanging around and calling out his name. He raises his hand to give them a curt wave, but nothing else.

"Well, can I do anything for you? Um, drive you home? Cook something? Do you want any ice packs or anything? I have a bunch of stuff at my place."

"No," he says quietly, still making his way to the truck.

"Okay…" I sigh.

"Where did you park?" he asks bluntly.

"Oh, not important. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

"Get in and tell me where you parked so I can drive you to your car." He tosses his bag in the backseat of his truck before pulling the passenger side door open.

Everything in me wants to argue and tell him to not worry about me at a moment like this. But debating him will only annoy him. And I can already tell he's hanging by a thread before losing his cool. He's pissed off. He's upset. He feels like he let the team down. I know him so damn well… I can see those thoughts weaving their way through his mind.

He closes the door behind me and makes his way over to his side of the truck before pulling himself in.

"A sprain shouldn't mean any surgery, so that's good at least," I whisper as he takes the final turn to the lot I'm parked in.

His shoulders rise and fall in a quick shrug and I can tell he doesn't want to even talk about it right now. When he pulls up to my car, his hand reaches for mine, giving it a quick squeeze as he offers the smallest hint of a smile and then turns to face forward again.

I sigh, realizing he probably just needs some time to process all of this.

"I'm sorry about your knee, Chase." I pull the lever on the door and let myself out.

I decided not to text Chase after I got home from the game the other day, but I had to check in yesterday. I sent him a text message about a new documentary I thought he might like. He responded, telling me he'd check it out. He also included a smiley face emoji, so I took that as a win. When I asked if he needed anything he responded with a simple no. I guess I shouldn't have expected much else, but jumping into action is quite literally what I've been trained to do when someone gets hurt, and it doesn't sit well with me that I'm not doing that for him.

I'm trying to find the balance in wanting to help and be there, but also not overstepping. It's the last thing I want to do right now, but this morning the urge to see him in person is too strong to ignore. Simply a sign of life is really all that I'm looking for.

I leave tomorrow to spend the holiday with my parents. Any chance you're taking visitors today?

My text sits on delivered for the duration of my shower, the entire time it takes me to get ready and then even while I start packing a small bag for my quick trip home. Once I finally sit down to eat something, my phone dings and I can't get to the message fast enough.

Chase

Sure.

A sigh of relief leaves my chest. Chase and I haven't been officially dating long, and yet it feels like I've lived a thousand lives with him already.

Before I get to his apartment, I stop at the store to grab a few snacks for him and CeCe and a couple things for Diane to do with CeCe to help keep her occupied. Abby said she's been bringing her over to their house the last couple of days just to give Chase some peace and quiet.

I tap lightly on the door and hear shuffling on the other side. Shit. I should have asked Abby for a key or something so I'm not making him walk to the door. Off to a great start, Summer.

"Hey." My voice is soft as he pulls the door open.

"Hi." His face is lined with scruff and his eyes resemble that of a sad puppy. He swipes a piece of hair from his face and I glance down at his knee. Now in a brace since the swelling must've gone down.

"I feel obligated to ask even though I'm sure it's not great, but how's the, uh…" I gesture down to his knee and that earns me a chuckle as he closes the door behind me.

"It's been better." He grabs a water bottle from the counter and takes a seat on the couch.

"Did they say how long your recovery will be?"

"Could be up to six weeks."

"Okay, up to six weeks, so it could be less then?" I ask with a hint of enthusiasm in my voice.

A sarcastic laugh jumps from his chest, and I immediately know I said something that's annoyed him.

"Sure. It could be less. Either way, I'm missing the playoffs."

I stay silent after his response, feeling my ears starting to ring and cheeks begin to feel flushed.

The nurse in me immediately grabs another pillow to prop up under his leg and he doesn't protest as I push the pillow underneath him and then grab another one and prop it up behind his head.

"Thanks," he breathes out in a deep sigh. "You're not at work, though, you can relax."

"Habits." I shrug, taking a seat on the loveseat opposite him.

"I brought some snacks, a few activities for CeCe. They're in that bag," I say, pointing to the plastic bag hanging by the chair. "Do you want me to cook dinner for you tonight?" I offer.

"No, that isn't necessary."

I nod at his answer. Trying to talk to him right now feels like pulling teeth and I don't know if I should keep trying, if we should just sit in silence, or if I should just leave.

"Should we watch something? I'm sure we can find a documentary that neither of us have seen. I tend to steer clear of any that are about reptiles, because gross. But I'll build up the courage for you if you want."

A noise leaves his chest that sounds like it could be a laugh, but also a grunt at the same time. He shakes his head back and forth, pulling both hands over his head in a stretch.

His arms flex under the t-shirt he's wearing and I can see a bruise under his arm, assuming another reminder of the hit.

"You don't have to sit here with me, Kincaid. I'm on pretty limited activity. There's nothing for you to do here."

"I wasn't expecting a lot of activity," I say, standing from the couch and walking toward him. I take a seat next to him on the couch and run my hand over his cheek before placing it on top of his hand resting on his thigh. "I was just hoping to see you. Maybe help with a few things that you might need help with. I can also just be quiet, moral support too, if that's what you're looking for."

"You? Quiet?" He chuckles to himself, and even though it's a slight insult, I'll take it because it's more than he's been giving.

"I mean… I'll try my best." I shrug, and he pulls his hand out from under mine.

"I'll be fine, Kincaid. I don't need a babysitter."

I scrunch my face together in confusion. It's like one minute he seems accepting of me being here and the next he's bothered by it. It's very pre-kiss Chase.

"I—I know that. I'm just here to offer help or at the very least check in. That's what friends do, that's what people in relationships do."

His lip twitches. "Right." He sighs and attempts to pull himself up from the couch. He gets to his feet and steadies himself before he moves. He barely bends his left knee as he makes his way to the kitchen island.

"Is there something I can get for you?" I don't understand why he's being this stubborn. A little stubbornness wouldn't shock me, it's Chase. But refusing my help completely is just… stupid.

"I've got it," he says, reaching for the laptop on the counter and tucking it under his arm as he walks himself back to the couch.

"I'm going to say this as a nurse, not as your friend or girlfriend. But you need to keep your weight off of it and keep it elevated. Tell me everything you need by your side and I'll bring it to you so you can stop getting up so much."

"I've got it," he says again with force.

I watch his footing stutter as he stops just steps away from the couch. His face turns away from me, but I can still see the wince. His eyes squeeze together and his breath snags.

I walk over to his side and take him by the elbow to help him back down. His body feels rigid and resistant, but he keeps his mouth shut.

"Sit down, I'm going to get some ice for you. We'll do fifteen minutes on and off." I get the pillow back under his leg, lifting his thigh gently.

The ice machine makes an unnecessary amount of noise as I fill a Ziploc bag and I'm kicking myself for not just bringing over one of my many ice packs I have.

"Thanks," he mumbles. "But I—I think you should go, Summer. I'm still just battling with myself over this and you don't deserve the crossfire of my piss poor attitude."

Well, that's honest. I take a step back, hands on my hips as he rests his head back on the couch.

"Chase—"

"Summer, please." His words are a plea. One I can't ignore. I don't want to overstep, but my God, I can't understand why, after all this time, he can't just let me in and let me stay there.

"I'll leave," I whisper. "But Chase," I say, relaxing my body, "When you're friends with someone… When you're in a relationship with them, helping them and supporting them is what you do. When something happens outside of these four walls, you have to know that there is someone within them who will be there for you. I want to respect what you're asking and I want to give you your space, but I'm not going to stop checking on you." I wave my phone in front of me. "Keep it charged."

I lean down, gently brushing my lips against his cheek before walking away and out the door.

"That's bullshit and you know it." Mia pushes the cabinet closed after she grabs cups for the boys' water. "Do you know what I would do if Nate ever tried to shut me out and stop me from helping him?"

"You wouldn't let him."

"No. I wouldn't. It's different when you're friends before you become more. You know them on a deeper level. There's more to the story than just meeting and falling in love—there's history and there's familiarity. You can call his bluff. He can call yours. You know ticks and grievances. But you also know when they need your love the most." Mia's feisty when she's pregnant and it's a side of her I've grown to love. Soft and sweet little Mia gets put away for nine months when she's carrying a baby.

I chuckle as I'm helping her put dishes away. "Can I be honest with you about something?"

"When are you not?" She smiles my way.

"I've never cared about a relationship before. I know that sounds terrible. But I've never cared about the long haul or the big picture. So, being impulsive all the time, doing what I wanted, regardless of what might've been ‘right' in the moment, never truly mattered to me. I've always kind of been fine with the whole ‘whatever happens, happens' mantra. I didn't care if things I said or did bothered any other guy because I was being myself. But with Chase… It's not that I want to change anything about how I handle myself, but I just want to care with him. I'm not even sure I'm making any damn sense right now." I sigh, getting frustrated with the words I can't seem to put together. "I want to be the best version of myself. I see—"

"You see the bigger picture; you want the long haul. I get it, it makes sense," she says, dropping a towel onto the counter.

I slowly nod. "I still gave him a piece of my mind, though. He needed it. But I just… I don't want to fuck it up."

"Believe me, any fucking up would not come from you."