Chapter 38

"In your last email you said you were helping Chase with his daughter quite a bit, how is that going?" my mom asks as we sit around the fireplace, drinking our coffee this morning.

"It's great, she's the best kid. I love being around her."

Yesterday, Abby sent me a picture of her and CeCe while they were at Chase's for dinner. I checked in with him earlier, but it was a brief conversation on my end. I'm trying to give him the space he wants and since I'm two hours away that does make it easier at the moment to not just show up at his house.

He sent me more than just one word answers which was nice and unexpected. Knowing Abby, and with Ford's recent interest in my wellbeing, I'm sure they both told him to stop being so stubborn yesterday. In all honesty, though, Chase has every right to process what he's feeling how he sees fit. It's never someone else's job to tell another person how to handle their stress or emotions. What works for me, may not work for Chase. I get that.

I push too hard sometimes, I know that. It's like I know that eventually he's going to get to a mindset where he's hopeful again and just wants to focus on recovery and I just want to get him there quicker. Skip all the wallowing parts and just jump to the part where he feels better. But that's not realistic.

"She's adorable," my mom comments. "She looks exactly like him. What's the deal with her mother? Is she just not in the picture at all?"

I never know how much Chase wants people to know about Kristen. I don't even know the specifics of the night she left, but I know it left him with a lot of trust issues. In a lot of roundabout ways, he's basically said that he couldn't convince her to stay. That their downfall was his fault. Something I wouldn't believe for a second.

"Not right now."

"And now, you're dating?"

I nod at the way my mom says it. I think for most of my life she's been worried I'd just lust after Chase forever and never give anyone else the time of day. She's half right. My feelings for Chase never wavered.

My childhood home isn't one that you'd really desire to go back and visit. I don't have any bad memories here—I rarely have any at all to be honest. My bedroom was turned into a study after I left for college and the room across the hall that used to be just a free for all where any random things would end up, is now a spare bedroom. So even when I come to visit, it's not like I'm staying in a room I grew up in. Despite the lack of nostalgia I feel being back here, it is always nice to have some time with my parents. My dad's never one for much of a conversation unless he's asking me about work, but my mom always makes an effort to keep up with my work life and personal life.

The Christmas tree glimmers with white lights and perfectly placed ornaments all organized in the most ideal way. It's nothing like the state of the tree CeCe decorated. She threw anything and everything on the tree and Chase just smiled and called it perfect. It was perfect. The day he asked me to shop for a Christmas tree with them was the first day I felt like I belonged next to him. I didn't feel nervous at the thought of someone like Chase wanting me.

I tell myself I'm confident and I'm strong because I believe I am those things. But I'm also just a girl who has been head over heels for the boy down the block all my life, who desperately wanted him to notice her. And now that he has, I'm afraid to lose it.

After my mom and I finish our very brief catch up, I take a seat outside on the porch. The cooler air makes it easier to sit outside while my parents and grandparents are inside the house. A moment of stillness and silence is actually appealing. I don't often get moments like this living downtown in the city.

"Summer, honey, your phone is ringing."

"Thanks," I say as my mom hands me the phone.

Chase's name is flashing on my screen for a FaceTime call. It takes me by surprise at the same time it makes my stomach flutter.

"A FaceTime call, how'd I get so lucky?"

"Summer!" CeCe shouts into the screen as her face comes into view.

She has on the cutest pair of reindeer ears and a sparkly green shirt as she sits on the couch. I can see Chase's shoulder next to her. He tries to get his face in the picture, but CeCe is the one holding the phone, which means I'm probably going to get motion sickness from all the moving she's doing with it.

"Hey, my girl! Merry Christmas!"

"Look!" She shoves the camera screen in front of a giant unicorn stuffed animal and starts telling me all about it. She named it Corn for unicorn, and honestly, it's fitting.

After more back and forth with CeCe, she abandons the phone on the couch and I'm left with a picture of a ceiling fan spinning before I hear Chase's voice and his face comes into view.

His soft brown eyes and five o'clock shadow. The jaw made of steel and a small piece of his hair curling just near his forehead. He looks well rested. More alert. He's the picture of perfection as I stare at him.

"Hey, Kincaid." His voice is low, almost a growl, but it makes me smile.

"Hey."

"Merry Christmas," he says, pulling the collar of his t-shirt.

"Back at ya. How are you feeling?"

"Like I owe you an apology."

My lips press together as I glide back and forth on this rocking chair.

"I'm not mad at you, Chase."

"Doesn't matter. I was a dick." He whispers the word dick as close to the phone speaker as possible, pulling a laugh from both of us. "When are you coming back?"

"I actually work tomorrow, so I might drive home tonight because I forgot to pack scrubs. Two days here with my parents has been just lovely." We both laugh again. "But there's no reason I can't come home later tonight."

"When you get back can we talk?"

My head nods up and down, giving him a smile before I hear CeCe in the background and know that our conversation is coming to an end. He smiles before he disconnects the call and I place my phone in my lap as I continue to rock back and forth.

Chase—as stubborn as he may be—is always someone who will apologize. I'd say it's a testament to his parents, raising him to be emotionally mature enough to recognize when he feels like he's hurt someone's feelings, but I feel like it goes even deeper than that. Being on the receiving end of so much pain for so long, I think it actually hurts him to think he's hurt someone else. He knows what that other side is like a little too well, and as tough as he may be he doesn't shy away from communicating. He's as honorable and thoughtful as they come.

Swaying back and forth in this chair, I'm fully convinced if I let myself sit here much longer I could easily fall asleep. So forcing myself to get up is a must.

But I just need two more minutes.

I can't believe I forgot to pack freaking scrubs.