“Something like that,” I say and then take a step back. “I’m sorry. I should have called. You’re clearly on the way out the door—”

“I’m heading to FU-Bar to meet with a supplier, but don’t ever apologize for stopping by with such great news or for no reason at all.” He reaches out and brushes the back of his hand down the side of my cheek, his smile softening, his eyes darkening.

“What?” I murmur.

“You called in a favor to help the kids. Do you have any idea what that means to me?” I swallow over the lump in my throat and shake my head, as words are eaten by the guilt. “You’re amazing. Absolutely amazing.” He brushes his lips over mine one more time before saying goodbye and heading to the bar.

I’m left sitting in my car staring at his tail lights as guilt eats me whole.

Where was your normal Chase Kincade assertiveness? Where was your take-no-prisoners attitude?

Where was my honesty?

Now he thinks I’m a way better person than I actually am.

If there is one thing that has been highlighted over and over since I’ve been in Destiny Falls, it’s this: he is selfless.

And I’ve just proven that I’m the direct opposite.

And I have no clue how to repair that additional lie.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Chase

I DRIVE.

I’m unsettled and restless and fighting with my own thoughts while putting mile after mile on my car. The two-lane highway stretches endlessly and takes me past the base, past fields with cows, past schoolyards with kids playing. I take it all in, the normalcy of what feels like small-town America, and find myself pulling off the road when I see a baseball field to my right.

I can’t figure out if it belongs to a high school or a community college, and it really doesn’t matter. I welcome the sight of it. Of feeling like I’m home in the oddest sense. I’m mesmerized by the guy who’s taking swings at the plate and his teammates shooting the shit in the outfield as they shag the balls and make plays with them.

This is what I know.

This is my comfort zone.

It’s no wonder I sit in my car and get lost in the easy cadence and familiarity of batting practice. It’s so much easier than having to face the fact that I’m a chicken.

I pick up my cell several times as I watch only to put it back down. But around the fourth or fifth time, I finally push send.

“Oh, look who’s actually making time to call us and act like she cares?” Brexton teases as she greets me when she answers.

“I’m not in the mood, Brex,” I say, as the kid at the plate goes deep and hits it over the centerfield wall.