More Than I Could (69)

He cocks his head to the side. “Yeah. I thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been up every morning since you got here.”

“Well, drinking coffee and watching you putter around shirtless is my reward.”

Chase’s fingers flick my knuckle. I open my hand, and he slides his palm against mine, his fingers lacing through my cold digits.

I tingle at the sweet, innocent contact that feels as intimate as anything we’ve done.

“I thought I’d be worried,” he says. “I’ve never left Kennedy overnight with anyone besides my parents since I got her.”

“Well, I’ll take good care of her.”

He squeezes my hand. “I know you will.”

Really? I peer up at him through the misty night and take in his sharp jaw and dimpled chin. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he’s thinking, and it’s adorable.

“I’m at a strange place in my life,” he says, his breath billowing.

“How so?”

“Well, on the one hand, I’m trying to hold on to my daughter. Maybe too much. I don’t fucking know. She’s a teenager now, and I’ll have to give her more rope, but that’s terrifying. It’s like her future relies on the decisions I make. I’ve already failed her once.”

I rub his knuckle with my thumb. “You haven’t failed her, Chase.”

“If I hadn’t been so careless or self-centered, maybe her life would’ve been different. Maybe she wouldn’t have been in the car with her mom in a shitty neighborhood and gotten carjacked. I could’ve helped them, you know.”

My chest tightens. “But you didn’t know. That’s not on you. And I’m not blaming Monica either because I have no idea why she didn’t tell you. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and say she had her reasons. But, Chase, you did the right thing as soon as you knew Kennedy existed. You can’t blame yourself for the rest.”

He shrugs like he’s not so sure I’m right. “The other side of the coin is …” He exhales. “I’m ready to have a life again.”

I try to release his hand, but he clamps down on it. He refuses to let go.

“I talked to Kate today,” he says. “And she told me I’m not irresponsible if I want more for me.”

My palm sweats despite the cold. The heat of my breath puffs into the air like a train. But the more I try to regulate it so Chase doesn’t notice, the more noticeable I think it becomes.

What is he saying? He wants more? More … what? More who?

More me?

“What do you think?” he asks.

“I think … this is your choice.”

“That’s a non-answer.”

I laugh. “It was a reply, so it counts as an answer.”

Chase leads me to a wooden swing beside the lake. We sit on the damp surface, and the cold bites into my backside. He notices, lifts me, and sets me on his lap with his hands around my stomach.

We swing gently for a long time, enjoying the cool breeze. I rest my head against his shoulder and let the rhythm lull me into a false sense of security.

“Do you find it hard to trust people?” I ask.

He hums. “No, not really. That’s pretty surprising, now that I think about it. But I’m not generally a distrusting person unless Luke is involved.”

I grin.

“Why? Are you?”

“Surprisingly, I am. Or maybe not surprisingly. I don’t know.”

“Why do you ask?”

I turn my head so I can see his face. “Because of this.”

It takes him a few moments to understand what I’m saying.

He pulls me tighter against him and kisses the top of my head. The gesture feels like a million butterflies in my stomach—as if someone took the world's stress off my shoulders and handled it for me. It’s nice.

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re sitting here like this?” I ask, playing with his fingers. “I mean, not that long ago, I didn’t know you existed.”

“It is funny, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

He moves beneath me, adjusting his position. “But maybe it’s not weird, Megan. Maybe this is …” He chuckles. “Forget it.”

“Forget what?”

“Nothing.”

I pry his hands off me and stand. “Remember our agreement?”

He grins, amused. “We shredded that thing a long time ago.”

I climb onto the swing, straddling him. He wastes no time wrapping his arms around my bottom and scooting me as close to him as I can go.

His face is animated as he watches me. My lord, he’s so damn handsome.

I cup his cheeks in my hands, the scruff scratching my palms. My thighs tense at the sensation—and the memory of what it feels like between my legs.

“Forget what?” I ask again.

“Maybe this is what two people do who want to fuck.”

I snort, my core clenching. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

He leans his head back arrogantly—like he knows he’s in control. “What do you think I was going to say?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.”