Page 88 of Hard to Lose

And I’m angry at myself.

Because I might be another person to cause him pain.

The pain and hurt surges in a whirl of sorrow. I’ve never felt this before. Never known I was capable of feeling this . . . distress. And if you asked me a month ago, I would have said I was a pretty happy person. In this moment, I can see why I’m so driven. Why I keep pushing forward. Why I stick to lists and spreadsheets.

They can’t hurt you.

And through this mess, Gunner holds me. He continues to silently comfort me. When the sobs subside, he grabs my hand and says, “Some fresh air and a walk might do some good.”

So we walk.

Toward the park and on its meandering path. Around games of hopscotch and between kids riding their bikes.

He allows me to sort out my feelings without asking, and there’s something so powerful in that to me. That he knew me well enough, understands this well enough, knowing what I needed when I didn’t even know.

“I can admit that I’m mortified I just had a major meltdown, but it’s not going to do anything to take it back,” I say as we circle around the small lake that edges the park.

“Why be mortified? Death is permanent while coping with it is a living, breathing emotion that you have to adapt to on the daily,” he says, his words making more sense than most people’s. “I just hope it helped. It’s bizarre, because at first, you think it’s a weird idea. And then you get the spiel from the guy and figure you’ll just go along with it. Then before you know it, you’re smashing shit and getting caught up in the emotions that only you know and understand, but it feels so damn good to let it all out.”

“How do you know exactly what to say and how to say it so that I hear you?” I ask, prompting him to stop and stare at me.

His hands come up to frame my face and his eyes hold mine. “Because we’re two peas in a pod, Chase. We may have gotten in that pod by different routes, but somehow, we fit there. Somehow, we understand each other. Somehow, we know it works.” He presses a tender kiss against my lips. “Who are we to question it?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Chase

“Are you not calling me on purpose or should I just assume you’re super busy and not feel hurt over it?” my dad asks as a greeting when I answer his call.

“Funny. Very funny.” I glance to the backyard where Gunner is mowing the grass. He’s deliciously shirtless—his every muscle glistening with a mist of sweat. And as much as I’d like to admire him, I’ll take this time while he’s outside to discuss work things with my dad. That’s been the hardest thing about this whole setup with living at Gunner’s.

I can do work just fine on my computer without him thinking I’m doing anything other than my thesis, but it’s the phone calls that pose problems.

And me being on the phone is an essential element of my job.

“I could also think that you’re avoiding me, but I’ll assume you’ll refute that handily, so do you want to tell me what exactly you’re doing?”

“Brexton and Dekker haven’t told you?” Shock filters through me. My sisters are always first to run and tattle about what little Chase is doing. I love and I hate it—depending on the day—because as annoying as it is, it also shows me that even with their busy lives, they care.

“They told me about the pitcher—Gunner or is it Ryan—but I was hoping you’d at least call and fill me in.”

“I only know him as Gunner. So that’s what I call him, but I found him, Dad. I found him and he’s nothing like I expected.” And like everything I never knew I wanted.

“But you’re not telling him about the letter because he doesn’t know who you are, right?”

“Something like that,” I say quietly, waiting for his lecture about honesty and being upfront.

But it doesn’t come.

That, in and of itself, has me pursing my lips and wondering what he’s not saying.

“Okay,” he says. “So you found the pitcher who’s no longer a pitcher. You’re volunteering at the place he volunteers and trying to do good things there. Then at nighttime, you’re getting to know him better. Then, what? You’re just coming back home in the near future?”

“I guess Dekk and Brex didn’t tell you the whole of it,” I say in regards to the getting to know him better part.

“Oh, they told me all right. I know you’re dating him. Doing things with him.” He clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with that aspect, and I fight my grin.

“Oh. Okay.”