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"Really? Because I'm pretty sure he Super Mario-ed the fuck out of your Princess Peach on Halloween, and I'd bet money that you Ho, Ho, Ho'ed his jingle balls for Christmas."
"I did not!"
"Did too," I yell. I get the sense that Chase feels slightly awkward sitting with us. But snarky banter is our love language, and he should know this by now. "You guys have been on-again-off-again and fucking like rabbits since Holly and Luke's wedding."
"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Riley snipes.
"Do you kiss your mother with yours? What flavour is your gloss? Cocksicle?"
"Fine," Riley says in mock anger, trying to cover up a laugh as she coughs and crosses her arms over her chest.
"Fine," I say back, narrowing my eyes at her.
"Fine," she repeats. We have a stare-down. Each of us glaring at the other, pursing our lips and, for all intents and purposes, trying not to laugh our asses off. Chase looks back and forth between us, but I don't break eye contact with Riley. This is our thing.
"Fuck it, fine. I'm going to the gym, and when I get back tomorrow morning, you two better have banged it all out by then." Riley dramatically stomps her way to her room for precisely the two seconds it takes her to grab her purse. She walks by the couch to the front door and throws on her ginormous winter coat and boots right over top of her girlie little PJs.
"I hope you're happy," she huffs. "But I also love you. I'll see you in the morning with two smoothies and a box of muffins, and I'll expect a full report." And with that, Riley leaves wearing the least athletic "gym" outfit I've ever seen.
"Is she really going to the gym?" Chase asks, confused at the scene that just unfolded in front of him. "Because she didn't take her gym bag."
I just laugh.”Of course, she's not going to the gym. The only workout she'll be doing is the naked kind." I look at my watch. "And nobody works out for twelve hours. Get with the program, dude. Riley and Ozzy are bumping uglies tonight."
"Those two, eh?"
"Yeah, those two." No one seems to know what's going on with them. Not even Riley and Ozzy. It's like they're doing some kind of weird cat-and-mouse thing while pretending neither has feelings for the other. It's the longest game of foreplay in the history of the world.
Chase and I sit in awkward yet comfortable silence until I snuggle in close to him and lay my head on his shoulder. "I really am proud of you. You're so fucking brave that I can't even articulate what I want to say. Scarlett did an amazing job with the whole thing."
"She did," Chase agrees, pulling me closer. "I hope we get more stories from her instead of Cassidy Tippett from now on."
Over the last several weeks, The Buzz and Cassidy Tippett have stopped buzzing. That might have something to do with the defamation lawsuit Chase and the Toronto Northmen filed against her. She's still insisting that all her information came directly from Chase's dad, so, and I quote, "How was I supposed to know he was lying?" Oh, I don't know. Check your sources? And, maybe don't pay an addict thousands of dollars for a story because they'll likely say whatever you want them to just to get the cash. Which is what we all know happened.
I went with Chase to visit his dad when we went home for Christmas but he asked me to wait in the car. It was devastating to see his childhood home reduced to what any real estate agent would call a teardown. You could tell the driveway and lawn were overgrown and cracked, even with snow covering most of it. The porch was all peeling paint and rotted wood. Shingles were falling off the roof, and the gutters overflowed with leaves from many autumns.
I spotted Jeff peeking through the window and my heart broke a little. He just looked sad and guilty, eyes cast down and flat. The alcohol and drugs had done a number on him. For a man in his fifties, he looked closer to seventy. When Chase returned to the car, he sat in the driver's seat in shock. He said my parents had been over to the house several times and were helping Jeff clean and take things to the dump. I'm sure this was after my mom screamed at him a little bit. Or a lot bit. Angie Valentine isn't one to beat around the bush, and when it comes to her kids, even one's she didn't give birth to, she goes full-on momma bear.
"He admitted to taking the money from Cassidy," Chase said. "He was high when she was here, and it sounds like she baited him into giving her the story she wanted."
"It's not his fault, you know? The story, I mean. Everything else kind of is,” I said. And even though I want to hate Jeff Wilder's guts, a part of me just feels sorry for him. He's a sad, lonely man with no one. He's an addict that probably thought he had no way out. There's no doubt in my mind that he believes he's fallen too far to ever come back. I can hate him for all the horrible and destructive things he did to his son, but I can't hate him for falling prey to a gossip reporter's broken moral compass.
"He said he'd try rehab."
"Really?" I was shocked. After almost two decades of failing as a father and refusing help, I wondered what had changed. Maybe it was a combination of my mom's harsh reality check and Chase warning him about his upcoming televised interview with Scarlett St. James-Kaur.
Jeff Wilder was admitted to an intensive rehabilitative care centre on Christmas Eve, where he will detox and get the help he needs to overcome his mental health problems and grief. Chase has checked in a few times over the last week, and my mom and dad plan on visiting him after the worst of the withdrawal period is over.
"If we're lucky, Cassidy Tippett's days as a journalist, if you can even call her that, are over. Scarlett is way nicer, and her brand of journalism actually helps people. She's ballsy and brutally honest, and not that it matters, but it doesn't hurt that she's hot." I laugh.
"Thinking of jumping ship?" Chase asks, smirking down at me. "I think she's single and shoots for both teams." I giggle and elbow him in the ribs.
"Maybe, but there's just one little, well actually one big, problem with that scenario."
"Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," I say, voice low, leaning back to look Chase in those startling blue-green eyes. It’s might be the first time that his expression is light, happy, and hopeful. The dark heaviness that so often clouded his eyes is mostly gone. "There's this guy. I've kind of been in love with him forever, but we've been on hiatus for a while. I love everything about him, and I'm so grateful that he trusted me as a friend enough to help him through a really tough time. But I miss touching him. I miss being touched by him, and I really want to kiss him right now."
Chase doesn't answer with words. He leans into me on the couch so we're almost nose to nose, his lips just millimetres from mine. When our mouths finally meet in a delicate brush of lips, it's like the entire world finally exhales after holding its breath. The kiss is soft and patient, but it quickly turns hotter when I slide my tongue into his mouth to taste him.
