Worth the Chase

I’m sorry I acted like a coward when the time came to step up. I’m the one who didn’t fight for us. I’m the one who ruined the most precious thing I’ve ever had. I know you hate me, but I hate myself more. Just please know my love is real. It was never fake or a scheme. Everything between us was more real to me than I can ever express. I’m sorry I hurt you. You deserve someone who will never stall when it comes to protecting you. I just wish I hadn’t fucked up so I could be that person for you. You’ll always be my angel. You’ll always own my heart.

Chase

I crumble the piece of paper and wipe at my heavy tears. “Damn him.” I clutch it to my chest. I do hate him for not fighting for us. For allowing his insecurities to degrade what we had. But my heart won’t let me erase him. Because even though the sharpness of his betrayal stings, my love for him wants to mend every sliver. God, I miss him. His corny jokes. The nervous tick in his jaw. The way he knows every single inch of my body. I should have talked it out with him. I didn’t give him a chance to explain, and now, I want nothing more than to hear his voice.

I scramble for my phone, but it’s not in my back pocket. “Shoot!” I must have left it in the guesthouse when I went to get my things. I stop at the bottom of the stairs and listen for any noises. Feeling confident Anna’s still down, I run out the back door. I push open my door and run in, not even turning on the lights, instantly spotting it on the kitchen island. My hands shake as I dial his number. I don’t even know what I’m going to say when he answers. My heart beats against my ribcage with every ring. “Come on. Pick up.” Shoot. What if I’m too late and he’s purposely not answering my call? I turn to head back to the main house and trip over a large object, stubbing my toe. “Ouch,” I groan. His phone rings one last time and goes to voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Bridget. I…I just read your letter and I’m—” I turn on the light to see what I tripped over. “I really want…to…what the heck…Chase—”

It happens so fast, I don’t have time to react. I barely register the pain that erupts along my skull as a blurry object appears before me and sharp metal crashes against my temple. My phone drops to the ground as I blink once, twice, then collapse to the ground, losing consciousness.

Chapter 25

Chase

“Later, Chase. You workin’ double shift tomorrow too?”

I wave over to Craig. “Sure am. See ya tomorrow.”

“You’re overworking yourself, son.”

“Never overworked. Plus, it’s keeping me out of the bars. Have a good night.” I walk over to my truck and remove my work gear, tossing it into the bed. For the third day in a row, I’ve pulled a double shift, working into the night. It’s exhausting, but it’s keeping my head on straight. Changes need to be made in my life. If not for anyone but myself. Ben’s right. I can’t fix myself for others. I need to want to do it. And I do. The drinking needs to stop. Hence why I haven’t had a sip of alcohol in three days. It only gets me in trouble. Not that I’m worried about overindulging in women. I have no interest in that shit. At least not for the foreseeable future. And who the hell knows? Maybe working overtime will allow me to save enough money to think about going back to school. It may have been a silly pipe dream when Bridge brought it up, but damn, it feels good to imagine it. It’s the path I should have stayed on.

I wave to a few guys and jump into my truck. While starting it, my phone lights up. Kip has ignored all my groveling messages, but I don’t blame him. I even sent one to Hannah, but she’s giving me the cold shoulder too. Levi’s at least talking to me. Not that I enjoy his convos since his new nickname for me is ‘dumbass’. I can only hope, in time, they’ll learn to forgive me.

I check my phone in hopes Kip is done ignoring me, and almost drop it when I see a missed call from Bridget. “Fuck!” She left a voicemail. My hand trembles as I lift the device to my ear and click play. She’s probably gonna remind me how much she hates me, but at this point, just hearing her voice will suffice.

“Hey, it’s me. Bridget. I… I just read your letter and I’m—I really want…to…what the heck…Chase—” She doesn’t finish her sentence. Something stops her. An array of static crackles through the line, then the call goes dead. That didn’t sound right. The way she said my name at the end. It may be nothing. Maybe her phone died. But the tone in her voice…like something was wrong? I still don’t trust her skeevy boss. What if he tried something on her? Took advantage of her vulnerability? I listen to the recording three times over, my stomach churning. I make out a muffled groan and scuffling. Her phone didn’t die. Someone ended the call.