My mind starts to torture me, wondering if he’s banged someone on that sofa or this kitchen island. This is what I always do. My mind always goes to the worst places.

“Bathroom?” I need a minute to get myself together. I will not turn into a needy mess in front of him.

“Use the one in the master. I don’t have the others stocked. It's at the end of the hallway.” He points.

Being nosy, I peek into each door as I pass them. I find two empty bedrooms with absolutely nothing in them. Next is an office. I slip inside and know this is where Chase spends most of his time. I can smell him here. I walk around to his desk and pause when I see a picture frame. It’s of Asher, Chase, and me. It’s really the only personal touch I’ve seen in this place.

Not wanting to get caught looking at it, I put it down and head for the master to use the bathroom. Even his bedroom is plain with white sheets and pillows on the bed.

I open a few of the drawers in the bathroom, knowing what I’m looking for. Things that might belong to a woman. A hair tie or lip gloss. Something small that could easily be left behind, but Chase is rather clean. I come up empty.

When I exit the bathroom, my eyes go straight for the nightstand. I know the right side is his because a phone charger is there along with a book and a notepad. A man’s nightstand is the equivalent of a female's purse. It’s off-limits to look inside if you’re not the owner. I’m not sure if that holds true for men, but since Chase went through my purse, I’m calling fair game.

I pull the drawer open, expecting to see a box of condoms or something, but all that’s there is a bag of Tootsie Rolls. A sweet treat that we both always loved. Asher would make fun of us and say it’s old people candy, but Chase always had some in his pocket, and he’d pull one out and give it to me. It would be softer than normal from having been in his pocket, which made it even better.

“Find what you're looking for?”

“You know I love these.” I snag one out of the drawer, playing it off as though I wasn’t being nosy.

“You can peek around all you want, baby girl. I don’t give a shit.” The hell? Did he call me baby girl? It’s always been little girl, which pisses me the hell off. Never before has he referred to me as baby girl. I have no clue what to make of that. Maybe I’m drunker than I realized.