In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) (28 page)

I looked up at her,
wondering if she was talking about what I thought she was.

“I’ve been
checking,” she continued, stirring a drizzle of honey into her tea.
“There hasn’t been a single post on that blog.”

I’d been checking,
too. Every morning—or afternoon, sometimes I didn’t really make
it out of bed until after noon—wondering if I was going to go
online and find a play-by-play account of the accident. But I never
did.

My father hadn’t
thought to ask. He assumed I’d never told Emma a word about it. I
wasn’t supposed to, and I knew he never would have opened up like
that. He wasn’t that kind of a guy.

My mother had made the
opposite assumption.

“Have you spoken with
her since Rio?” she asked.

“No.” I had not
picked up the phone. Emma had sent me an email that I childishly
hadn’t opened yet. And a text that said, “I miss you.” I hadn’t
responded.

“You seemed happy
with her, Chase. Happier than I think I’ve ever seen you.”

I didn’t have much to
say to that. Out in my mother’s yard, a bunny was hopping in the
bushes. I watched it, thinking that would be much easier, being a
rabbit. Then you just had to worry about food and shelter. And
bobcats and cars. Maybe being a bunny wasn’t such a great idea.

“I know you’re
probably not going to like me saying this.” She paused, as she got
my attention. “Chase, don’t be like your father. He holds on to
grudges like nobody I’ve ever met. And he’s never happy unless
he’s on the hunt, after a new woman, a new business deal that’s
going to take him to the next level. But he’s never satisfied.
Never.”

She was right. I didn’t
like hearing it from her. I’d never liked being put in the middle
while they badmouthed each other. But now, at 26, there was another
reason I didn’t like listening to her. I knew what she said was
true.

I had a lot of my
father in me. The relentless drive, the constant striving for an
ideal of perfection. He was a restless, unhappy man, always focused
on the next rung, never enjoying what he had around him.

“You need to figure
out what makes you happy,” she continued advising me, giving me
pearls of wisdom I didn’t quite know what to do with. “And the
good thing is, you have so many options. You’ve got a degree from
one of the top universities in the world. You’ve proven that you’re
one of the best athletes of all time. I’m sure people are tripping
over themselves to get you on board with any number of ventures. You
just need to pick the right one.”

I nodded, still silent
in the face of her eloquence. I knew, in my heart, what she said was
true. But I felt strangely adrift, unable to articulate my next step.
I guessed that might be expected when you’d had tunnel vision for
so long. Once you finally got out of the long, dark stretch, what had
once been a pinpoint of light engulfed you. It could feel blinding
and disorienting.

“Why don’t you go
visit Liam?” she suggested, moving to the pantry to take out some
biscuits. “You’re welcome to stay here, but I think a visit would
do you good. Liam’s a true friend.”

Of all the things she
said, I found that the most surprising. I’d always thought she
didn’t approve of Liam, so working class, so uncultured. But, maybe
I’d been wrong? Or maybe she’d changed? Either way, she was
right. I should head out to Naugatuck. Where it had all begun.

§

“Mom! Your boy’s
back!” Liam announced my presence to his mother, who was in the
kitchen as usual.

“Hello Mrs.
Connolly.” I followed him in.

“Look at you!” She
came at me, wearing an apron, a full foot shorter but reaching up to
pinch my cheeks. “So big!” she marveled, taking a step back.

Looking between me and
Liam, who was a big guy himself, almost my height, she shook her
head. “I remember you two when you came up to here.” She motioned
to her shoulder. “And neither of you ever once asked me if you
could get so big. I never gave my permission.”

“Hi, Ma.” Liam gave
her a bear hug and she shooed him off, telling him she had to go stir
the sauce.

I delighted her, as
usual, with my third and then fourth helping. “I made extra knowing
you were coming!” she declared. She loved how much I ate, though I
knew I should probably start dialing it back. I wasn’t swimming and
working out for six hours a day every day anymore.

Afterward, Liam and I
retired out back. Technically, Liam lived with his mother, a fact I
liked to tease him about. Logistically, he had his own place, a
converted barn right on the water. His family had lived on Naugatuck
for generations, and they’d snapped up a prime piece of real estate
back before the island was developed into its current upmarket
tourist destination. Now, the Connolly property, over an acre right
on the ocean, was likely worth at least five million. But they
weren’t selling.

“How’s your mom
doing?” I asked him as we settled out on the deck with beers. The
ocean breeze on a warm summer night, the sound of the waves lapping
against the shore, it was a bit of all right.

Liam took a swig before
he answered. “She’s a trooper. But I worry about her.” That was
another reason he was living there with his mom. His father had died
of a sudden heart attack about a year ago. A big man with a voracious
appetite for all the good in life—food, drink, laughter, family,
friends—I was sure he was sorely missed. I’d flown back for the
funeral, but I hadn’t exactly been around much to see how the
family was coping in his absence.

“How’s your mom?”
Liam asked. “Did she make that face when you told her you were
coming to visit me?” He twisted his face like he was sucking on a
lemon. The Liam face, we’d called it. I swear, my mom used to be
much more uptight. She’d never liked how much time I spent with the
Connolly family over the summers.

I surprised him by
telling him how much she’d mellowed out. “She actually was the
one who suggested I come visit.”

“No.” He shook his
head, refusing to believe it.

“Scout’s honor,”
I swore.

“You never were a
scout.” He called me on that one. That was the problem with old
friends, they knew you too well.

We sat out for a while,
shooting the shit, sometimes not saying much of anything, and then he
came out with it. “So, have you given her a call? Or are you being
an idiot?”

“Jesus, you too?” I
knew exactly who he meant. First, my mother had defended Emma,
suggesting I give her another chance. Now it seemed Liam was on the
same bandwagon.

“I’m not going to
ride you,” he assured me. “I’m just telling you you’re being
an idiot.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s right.”

“How do you know I
haven’t called her?”

“Because I know you,
Chevy.”

I reminded him of the
circumstances. “She lied to me. The whole thing was a lie.”

“Don’t go all drama
queen on me.”

I huffed and puffed, my
feathers all ruffled like…a drama queen. I took a sip of my beer,
trying to keep an open mind instead of defend myself. “So what do
you think, then?” I asked. “Do you think it was all made up?
Because she told me herself, she’s a blogger.”

“I think she did
something stupid.”

I snorted. What she’d
done was more than stupid. She’d been purposely deceitful, lying to
me for weeks. She only came clean because a blog forced her to do it.

“She made a mistake
because she’s human,” Liam continued. “But I bet she regrets it
now.”

“I bet she does.”
The tone of my voice conveyed my mixed emotions. She might regret it
for a lot of reasons. Like because her identity got unveiled and she
couldn’t blog anonymously anymore. Or maybe she was catching some
flack for it back at work.

“That girl likes
you.” Liam looked over at me. “A lot. She wasn’t faking that.”

I looked out at the
dark horizon, the sun down but still leaving the darkest shade of
purple above the black ocean.

“You stay here and
have some deep thoughts.” He stood and clapped me on the shoulder.
“I’m going to head in. I’ve got to be at the station at five
tomorrow. You’ve got the couch there for you when you want it.”

“Thanks,” I
grumbled. But I did mean it.

“That couch is wicked
comfortable,” he added over his shoulder. He’d added in the
“wicked” for me. As native Massholes, we felt it was our
birthright to use the word from time to time.

“I know,” I
answered. I’d slept on that wicked comfortable couch many times
before.

He left me out on the
deck with my beer, the ocean and my deep thoughts. I only had one
thought, really. I missed Emma. I missed the way she laughed and the
sweet blush she’d get when I talked dirty to her, but she’d
always flush with arousal, too. I missed making her smoothies,
hearing her tell me about her family or the run she was going to do
that day. I missed the feel of her hands on me, kneading, massaging,
stroking. I missed the way she looked when she came, glistening with
sweat, panting, her mouth open with pleasure. I missed everything
about her.

I gazed out on the
water, where I’d nearly died 12 years ago. Right off of that coast.
That was the worst thing that had ever happened to me. I still had
nightmares about it to this day.

But it had also given
me purpose. It had fired up an iron resolve that had powered me
through all of my achievements, driving me past normal human limits
to achieve something no one had before. I’d set a world record. All
because I had to prove it to myself. I wasn’t the weakling who’d
gotten tossed off the boat, letting my friend get trapped in a fire.
The worst disaster had helped bring about the best achievement in my
life.

Maybe disasters didn’t
have to stay that way? Maybe the world wasn’t as black and white as
I’d thought. And maybe the best thing that had ever happened to me
wasn’t my gold medals or my world record. Maybe it was Emma.

I stood up and headed
inside. I had an email sitting unopened in my inbox. It was time to
read it.

Emma

“How’s that? All
right for you?” I gently helped my client into a seated position.
She was close to 80 and recovering from hip replacement surgery. It
was a tough road, especially for those without a history of exercise.
I was working with her twice a week, and she was seeing a therapist
in the pool the days she didn’t work with me.

“I think you’re
coming along nicely,” I assured her, helping her get to standing.
She still had a long way to go, but she could do it.

“Thank you, dear.”
She patted my hand. “You’re a real godsend.” I held the door
open for her, wishing I believed even half of the compliment.

It had been three weeks
since the games, and I still felt like something scraped off the
bottom of a shoe. I usually liked September, the temperatures in
Florida starting to cool slightly, the kids with their new school
backpacks. But this year I wasn’t enjoying myself too much.

I’d moved back in
with my parents, on a temporary basis. It was time to find my own
place, not living with Tori anymore. That had gone on for too long.

I wasn’t even angry
at Tori. She’d behaved in exactly the same way she always did,
impulsive, emotional and a little careless. She hadn’t been trying
to do me harm. She wasn’t malicious, but she wasn’t always a good
friend. I didn’t plan on cutting her out of my life, but I wasn’t
going to let her in as close anymore. The best friends forever thing
had worn out its welcome. Probably several years ago, if I was
honest.

We’d had a couple of
conversations as I’d packed up my things, officially moving out at
the end of August. She’d even attempted to help, a little, but
sorting, organizing and folding wasn’t exactly her thing. One
afternoon, she’d come and sat at the end of my bed.

I was a big believer in
weeding out your closet. I’d rather have a few, simple things that
fit me well and made me feel attractive than a closet full of random
stuff. I was trying to get rid of things, bring them to Goodwill
instead of just pile everything into suitcases and lug it around with
me. I wasn’t a big new-agey person, obsessed with chakras and auras
and all that, but I did feel like I needed a fresh start. New karma
in my life, I guess you could say. Out with the old, in with the new.

Tori started offering
advice, which ran diametrically opposed to my own instincts.

“You have to keep
that!” she insisted, at the exact moment I was tossing something
into the giveaway pile. I tried not to see it as symbolic, but it
happened anyway. We were so different, she and I. Maybe we always had
been. I’d been holding on to our friendship, but at the expense of
moving on, myself.

“You’re sure you
want to move out?” She looked wistful as she asked, and I was sure
part of her felt that way. But I also knew she already had another
roommate lined up, a friend from the restaurant where she waitressed.
Her new roommate was the type who would stay out all night with Tori,
instead of suggesting she switch to water around two a.m. when she
realized she’d lost her panties. Without me as her emergency break,
Tori might get into a lot more trouble. But she needed to sort that
out herself. It didn’t really make either of us happy when I played
that role.

“Are you still mad at
me?” she asked, biting her nails. I’d assured her on several
occasions that, no, I was not mad at her. I’d been angry when I’d
first found out. But since then? The only person I was really mad at
was myself.

I’d been so stupid.
And Tori was right, the whole idea of scooping Chase had been my idea
in the first place. Months and months ago we’d been sitting around,
eating nachos late at night, playing the “who’s hotter” game.
Chris or Liam Hemsworth? Buster Posey or Jonathan Lucroy? (Shout out
to the catchers so hot they burned up their face masks!) I’d posed
the question, who’s hotter, the Aussie swimmer James Magnussen or
Chase Carter?