I kneel down and hold out the plate with the sandwich. “I made you something to eat.” Still no reaction. I sigh, setting the plate down carefully beside him. “I’m going to leave it here. Please eat something.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even acknowledge my presence.
I exhale deeply, stand and take a step back. “I really am sorry,” I whisper. “I’d give my soul to change what happened, but I can’t. All I can do now is prove to you how much you mean to me. How much I want to fix this. And maybe, someday… you can forgive me.”
Chase doesn’t speak, continuing to give me nothing but silence. With a heavy sigh, I turn and leave the bathroom, returning to my spot on the bench.
The minutes drag into hours. I stay in the locker room, watching the entry to the bathroom, waiting for Chase to walk out and tell me what he’s thinking. But he never does. When I finally take a moment to look at my watch, it’s close to ten at night. I need to check on him. Standing, I make my way back inside the bathroom.
The sandwich remains untouched. The water bottle, unopened. And Chase… Chase is curled on his side, hands tucked beneath his head, his body rising and falling in the soft rhythm of sleep.
I can’t leave him like this.
Carefully, I crouch down, sliding my arms beneath him and bracing myself before pushing up. His weight is solid against mine, and I have to adjust my grip to keep us balanced. He barely stirs, just a faint sigh as his head lolls against my chest, his fingers twitching slightly in my shirt. I swallow the lump in my throat and hold him tighter.
I miss this. I miss him. The way he fits against me, the way his touch, even unintentional, sends warmth flooding through my veins. But I know he isn’t reaching for me—he’s just lost in the haze of sleep, unaware of the way his body reacts.
I carry him back into the locker room, lowering him onto the air mattress as carefully as I can so I don’t wake him. Slipping off his shoes, I pull the blanket up, tucking it around his shoulders. He doesn’t stir, only lets out a soft sigh.
Taking a step back, I drop onto the bench across from him, my elbows on my knees, hands clasped together. And I watch him.
I watch the way his eyelashes flutter, the way his lips part slightly as he breathes. I watch the man I broke with my betrayal—the man I lost because of my stupidity.
“I’m so sorry, Chase. I was an idiot. I knew coming out was hard for you and coming back here would be difficult. I should’ve seen it more through your eyes instead of acting like a hothead and thinking only of me. If I had just stayed with you and talked through your concerns, proving that we could face any obstacle together, then that night wouldn’t have happened. We’d be together and joining Carter in trying to win back Ginny. But instead, you’re not talking to me and I’m a fucking ass.”
Chase doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even hear me. My words aren’t just for him, they’re for me.
I pray that one day, I can put him back together. Put us back together.
Chapter 23
Chase
Iwake slowly, mybody heavy with exhaustion, my mind sluggish as I try to grasp where I am. This isn’t my bed. The surface beneath me is too squeaky, too off balance, the air around me is too cool, carrying the faint scent of ice, sweat and metal. My eyes blink open sluggishly, adjusting to the dim lighting. It takes me a moment, but then I remember.
The locker room.
The rink.
Blake.
But I wasn’t in the locker room when I fell asleep. My last memory is sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, the quiet hum of silence around me, the weight of my own grief pressing down on my chest. I try to piece it together, recalling flashes—warm arms lifting me, the familiar scent of Blake surrounding me, the deep timbre of his voice murmuring something soft.
I thought it was a dream.
Sitting up, I rub the sleep from my eyes and turn my head, my gaze landing on the figure lying on the hard bench across from me. Blake. His jacket is haphazardly draped over his torso, hischest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths, snoring softly. His face relaxed with sleep, the sharp angles of his jaw softened. God, he’s so handsome.
And then my heart cracks.
I remember last night. The confession that shattered me all over again. His voice, raw and regretful, admitting the truth I had feared true for so long, just never confirmed until then.
He cheated.
He says he didn’t go all the way, but he still kissed her. He still put his mouth on her. He still went down on her. He still put his dick in her, even if he didn’t finish the act.
He broke me.
A lump forms in my throat. I hate him. I love him. I miss him so much I can hardly breathe.
