Page 70 of The One Timer

“Of course you will.” He sighs deeply and I lean into him, wishing things were different, wishing he was anyone besides a Whittier, but then that would make him someone other than the man he is. The man I’m falling for—if I don’t watch out.

“I don’t know what I wish.” I don’t know why I said that out loud.

He takes my face in his hands. “What do you mean, Em?”

“Nothing. Never mind.”

“You know what I wish? I wish you would give yourself freely to me the way you seem to do with everyone else.”

My breath catches. The truth of his words sends a flash of painful realization like a spear through my heart and the need for an honest reckoning presses me. as if I’ll bleed out if I don’t stop this madness between us

“Chase, what do we have between us? What do you want with me?”

“Fun.”

“Is that all?” I search his face and he pauses, his face going expressionless, like he’s circling the wagons to protect himself from something—from me.

“Truthfully, I don’t know—yet.”

"That's what I thought."

"What's that supposed to mean, Em?"

"It means you can't see our lives fitting together any more than I can."

"This is about the money thing again, isn't it? Forget about money. Forget about my family and Whittier corporation. None of that has anything to do with us."

I shake my head. "No, it’s not the money thing. What I meant was how will you and I fit together Day-to-day? I have a passion for nursing and you hate all things medical. You have a passion for hockey and I... don't."

"You don't like hockey?" the shock in his voice shocks me, reverberates through my whole body like I just gut punched him.

The way I said the words came out all wrong, like an indictment of his character.

"No, I don’t mean it like that. I like hockey. But it's a sport and I can only get so excited about it. What excites me is your excitement about it. I love that hockey makes you happy, that it gives you purpose and I love how hard you work to be your best."

"But?"

My brows furrow and I question him with my eyes because I don’t know what he’s looking for.

"Hockey isn’t an admirable passion like yours." He grunts, looking away. "I suddenly understand what it feels like to be less than."

"Chase, I don't--"

He cuts me off. "Never mind. Don't come to the game. You're right. Whatever you're doing is more important. By default."

When I get to the Whittier mansion for work, Mrs. W mentions that Chase never came home last night, that he went to Portsmouth. “I suppose he felt it was a better idea to be there to leave for his road trip with the team this morning.”

Guilt buries me, of course and I spend the day trying to make it up to Mrs. W. But the day is gray and that makes it hard. Makes it easy to slip into a gray mood. Today I promised myself I’d keep mindful of my place and mindful of my goals, of what matters to me. My nursing career. Becoming an independent woman.

Around eleven in the morning I’m surprised to find Mrs. W dozing on the couch in the library, but it’s time to check her blood pressure, so I retrieve the blood pressure cuff from the cabinet.

Nudging her shoulder, I wake her gently. “It’s time to take your blood pressure, sleepyhead.”

She smiles, but she looks around disoriented, so I give her a minute to wake.

“Don’t mind me. Taking my afternoon nap a little early is all.”

“Let’s sit you up and take your blood pressure.” I help her to sit straight and she blinks her eyes. “Are you alright?”