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He chuckles.
“So what is this place?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” He looks around the place. “It’s a dive bar.”
I tilt my head and spear him with a look. “But what is it to you?”
He holds my gaze and blows out a breath. “It’s the one place in this city that reminds me of home. Reminds me of my dad.”
I remember that his dad died while Chase was in college, but he’s never said much else about him. I’ll get to that, but first I want to know something else. “Do they know who you are? No one made a fuss.”
He pulls from his beer and sets it on the table. “Why do you think I like coming here? No one treats me special, no one bothers me about my job… I just get to be Chase Andrews, guy who was raised in butt-fuck nowhere, not Chase Andrews, tight end for the Kingsmen.”
I think back to how uncomfortable he was at the pet store that time all those people approached him, and I understand a little better why he likes it here, where no one treats him like he’s a big deal. I take a sip of my drink, happy to be thinking of something besides feeling sorry for myself. “You said it reminds you of your dad. How come?”
He contemplates my question for a moment, and I sit in the comfortable silence, waiting patiently.
“My dad was a simple man. Salt-of-the-earth kind of guy. Ran our sheep farm until the day he died. There was this dive bar he’d go to every Saturday night. The first couple of years, when I’d return home from college to visit, he let me tag along even though I wasn’t of age. Some locals ran the bar, and they looked the other way. Some of my best times with my dad were at that bar. He’d talk about life and what mattered most… he was a smart man.” Chase stares at his beer bottle for a beat and I sense that he’s reliving some memory of him with his dad. “Anyway, I feel close to him here. Feels more like home than the rest of the city.”
“You don’t like living in a city?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I don’t hate it, don’t get me wrong. But I never quite feel like I belong.”
I nod, understanding what he means. “How did… I mean, how did your dad…”
“Heart attack.” He frowns. “He’d been complaining about some symptoms to my mom for a couple weeks before it happened but wouldn’t go see the doctor even after my mom got on his ass about it.”
I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry. That must have been awful.”
He nods slowly and squeezes my hand back. “Yeah. At least football season was over because I was a mess and in my head the rest of that year.”
His father’s death clearly still affects him. I can hear the pain in his voice when he talks about his loss.
“Is your mom still on the ranch?”
He shakes his head. “She sold it shortly after my dad died to a neighbor who’d been eyeing the land, then moved back to Wyoming to be closer to her sisters. She’s remarried now.”
I don’t sense any bitterness from him over the fact that his mom moved on with her life. That’s probably the healthy response, but I’m not sure how I’d feel in the same situation.
Now that I realize exactly what this place means to him, my chest warms over the fact that he’s sharing this part of himself with me. “Thank you for bringing me here and trusting me.”
“You don’t have to thank me, sunshine.” He takes a pull from his beer and holds my gaze.
God, I love it when he calls me that.
“Today was harder than I thought it would be.” I take a large sip from my drink, opting to open up and tell him how I’m feeling since he’s done the same for me. “I knew today was coming obviously, but I thought I was prepared for whatever I’d feel today.”
“I’m sure it’s a lot.” His mouth forms a thin line.
“I’m most annoyed that I still care, you know? I mean, it’s not like I want Mathew back or anything.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“You are?” Even I can hear the hope in my voice.
He nods. “You deserve someone better than a guy who will do what he did to you.”
I temper my disappointment by taking another sip of my drink. I guess I was hoping Chase would say he was glad because he wanted me and didn’t want me with anyone else. We still haven’t discussed what any of the stuff we’ve been doing means, and I’m afraid to bring it up because maybe I won’t like the answer. Maybe he’ll tell me it was a mistake, then I’ll feel the same sting of rejection I did when Mathew broke things off.
