Her eyes close. Her breath stutters. Her fingers twitch, curling in on mine softly.
When she opens her eyes, the ice is gone. She’s back to my Bree. “I’ll think about it.”
“Thank you.” I squeeze her fingers once more before letting go.
When I reach the door, she says, “Tell your lawyer the DA is drawing up the agreement. They’ll send it over and we can all review it together. Be here tomorrow to get started.”
“Will do.” With a nod and another shared smile, I leave her, looking forward to rehabbing my image more than I should because it will give me more time with her.
Days like this make me regret my life choices. It’s a shit day and it’s not even eleven. A last-minute meeting was put on my calendar first thing this morning without a heads up because Mark couldn’t be bothered to do his freaking job. And because he was notably absent in general, everyone came to me for everything. I was over it. I’d been working nonstop for days to coordinate all the moving parts of the MLB’s investigation into Chase’s arrest. It took some finesse, but I was able to convince the disciplinary board to expedite a review of his case with the signed plea arrangement. The two game-free days due to the All-Star break helped too, and they were able to reach a determination. Chase was issued a three-game suspension to be served immediately, subject to final review after the completion of his mandated community service and satisfactory rehabilitation of his image.
Because of the suspension, Chase couldn’t travel with the team to their away series but that didn’t stop him from showing up at the stadium every day running sprints and conditioning drills. Not only did he show up, but he did it by himself. No staff helping and no one observing unless that observer was me from the window of my office that gave me the perfect view of the entire diamond.
I’m honestly surprised by how he reacted, but it appears tohave been a staunch wakeup call. Part of me wondered if he worked out on the field so I would know he was there. The other part called myself a stupid girl for making it all about me.
As if he knows I’m thinking of him, my phone lights up on my desk with a text from him.
CHASE
Can I ask how your day is? Friends do that right?
We haven’t spoken directly since the official suspension determination was made a couple days ago, so this text is completely out of left field. And because I’m already irritated, I respond harshly.
ME
Don’t you have something better to be doing?
CHASE
Not at the moment. How’s your day?
ME
Busy. Did you need something?
CHASE
Just checking in.
ME
We don’t need daily check-ins.
CHASE
What if I just wanted to talk to you?
ME
Why?
CHASE
You said you wanted to be friends. Friends talk occasionally.
Between his defense of me in the meeting to his dedicationon the field, he’s breaking through the wall I’ve erected to keep my distance. The “what ifs” and “what could bes” are getting louder in my head. Which only serves to piss me off more today.
ME
