Chase dramatically gasped and slammed his hand to his chest. “Are you calling me a liar?!” He turned toward the guys and said, “Ask Ashish if he loved this woman.”
“Did you love this woman?” the three brothers said, in unison once again.
I paused, and it must’ve been long enough to prove whatever point Chase was trying to make.
“You loved her!” they shouted, each of them pointing an accusatory finger at me.
For fuck’s sake.
I tossed my water bottle into my duffel bag and stood from the bench. “We don’t have to go over mine and Karla’s past.”
“Karla,” Luke sang. “She has a name!”
“Everyone has a name,” I countered.
“But hers made your eyes flutter,” Chase said as he stood and tossed an arm around my shoulders to tease me. He began to try to tickle me, the fucker. “I think it’s good you have her back in your life.”
I shrugged his arm off me. “She’s not back in my life. She made that pretty clear when I stopped by to visit her the other day.”
Shawn arched an eyebrow. “You visited her, and she shot you down?”
I grabbed my duffel bag and tossed the strap over my shoulder. “Yup. I don’t blame her. Anyway, as I said, I’m not going to rehash our past with y’all.”
Chase frowned at me, growing somber. He must’ve seen the look of disappointment in my eyes, because he turned to his cousins and said, “All right, all right. We’ll cut you a break.”
“But—” Adrian started.
“But nothing. Let our emo friend sit in his emotions by his lonesome. Let him be a man and keep all that shit bottled up until he hits a midlife crisis.”
“That sounds healthy,” Shawn sarcastically remarked.
“It’s what makes us men. Well, minus Luke, our emotional butterfly.”
“Therapy works, assholes,” Luke chimed in as he picked up the basketball and spun it on his finger.
“It works even better when you’re banging your therapist,” Adrian teased.
I chuckled a little.
Valid point.
“I’ll have you know that Catherine and I hooked up before I knew she was going to be my therapist,” Luke said.
“Still problematic,” the other guys and I said in unison as we walked off the court. The brothers said goodbye to me as Chase walked in my direction toward his car.
“You have been in your head a bit, Ash,” he said. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m always all right.”
“Bullshit, nobody is always all right.”
“I’m really good, Chase.” I smirked at my friend and patted him on his shoulder. “If I needed a therapist, I’d hit up Catherine,” I joked.
Chase didn’t chuckle back. I knew that meant he was truly worried. That was the thing about Chase: He wasn’t simply a funny guy who talked a lot; he cared even more. He cared about everything and everyone. That was why he was so good at his job. If there was anyone who I’d trust with my life, it would be him. He especially cared for the people closest to him—which included me.
“I know we don’t talk about deep shit often because we are tough men and shit, but I just want you to know, if you need somebody to listen, my ears are always there for ya,” he said.
I gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, buddy.”
