“I wasn’t. I was genuinely curious.” Chance’s voice was calm.
“I know my dad loves me. I have never once in my life felt unloved. I think, at the time, I definitely could have used a little more of his attention, but I also understood that his heart was broken. And Jared helped fill that void.”
Chance cleared his throat. “My dad would be devastated if he lost my mom. I think he’d turn into a shell of a person without her. I wouldn’t even know how to help him.”
“Yeah. It was really sad. I lost my mom, but my dad lost his partner and the person he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. He had to distract himself with something. And making millions of dollars while doing it wasn’t a bad side effect.”
“Damn. So, your dad’s like that, huh?” Chance laughed.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
My dad was filthy rich. He had built his empire from scratch with no help from anyone, and everyone knew it. He was respected, looked up to, and connected. Things didn’t go down in New York real estate without my dad knowing it was happening.
“Will you go work for him after you graduate then?”
“That’s always been the plan.”
“Your idea or his?” Chance asked, and I knew what he was getting at.
“Mine. My dad isn’t the type to force me to do something I don’t want to do.”
Chance looked at me for only a second. “I can’t imagine anyone forcing you to do something you don’t want to do.”
I swallowed hard. “You’d be surprised.”
We pulled off the freeway and headed toward my apartment complex. Like everything else this evening, the drive had gone by too fast.
“Oh, hey, I almost forgot,” I said before clearing my throat. “What was with all the quarters at the house? That’s what they were, right? Quarters?”
“Please don’t make me tell you what little I know about them,” Chance said, wincing.
I laughed. “Well, now, you have to.”
“It’s just something my dad does. He gives my mom quarters, and then she saves them all. He started doing it in college, and I don’t want to know the whole story because I know too much gross shit about them already.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a pass this time.”
“Thanks,” he said halfheartedly, and I realized that we were in my parking lot.
Chance pulled his Bronco to a stop, and I watched him hesitate before even looking at me. I knew that he was torn on how to handle this particular good-bye. Things between us seemed to only get more intense with time. I leaned toward him and pulled his body awkwardly into mine, thankful he was still wearing his seat belt. We hugged briefly before I pulled away, his green eyes boring into mine the way they always seemed to.
“Thanks for everything tonight. It was …” I struggled to find the right word as his lone dimple appeared.
“I still can’t believe my mom had all those pictures.”
“I can’t wait to go look at every single one,” I admitted as excitement coursed through me. There were so many pictures of my parents that I’d never seen before. I couldn’t wait to look at them and send them to my dad and tell him everything. I wished it weren’t so late in New York, so I could call him right away.
Chance reached out and touched my hand. My entire body flooded with heat. “Go. Before I try and do something we’ll both regret.”
I swallowed hard, torn between wanting him to do it and absolutely knowing that we shouldn’t. Reaching for the door handle, I pulled it open and hopped out. He waited until I got to the door of my building and went inside before he drove away. I grabbed my phone and typed out a text. I knew I was opening a door I’d struggle with closing again, but I did it anyway.
DANIKA: Good luck on your test tomorrow. I know you’ll do great!
His response was immediate, even though he was driving, and so Chance-like, teasing and torturous.
CHANCE: Is this what friends do?
Internal Conflict
Chance
The drive back to my place was brutal in a different kind of way. Danika’s scent lingered in my truck, and I found myself inhaling deeply as I tried to breathe her in. Like it might make her a part of me or something stupid like that. I officially lost my damn mind as I replayed the night—how great my parents had been with her, coupled with the look on Danika’s face when my mom had mentioned knowing hers. Her shock, disbelief, and sadness had all mixed together, and I would have done anything to take away her pain and anguish and replace it with something good. I hated knowing that she was hurting. My heart fucking ached, just thinking about it.
The fact that my parents had known hers felt like some sort of sick cosmic joke at first. Then, it felt like a connection that neither one of us could deny. Either the universe was making a giant-sized laughingstock out of us or it was trying its damnedest to bring us together. I honestly wasn’t sure which.
I could tell that Danika was conflicted as well. That the events of tonight had altered things between us. How could it not? It was too much to just be a coincidence. I was tempted to call my mom and ask her opinion, but I wasn’t ready to have my own thoughts dissected when I was still trying to figure them out myself.
Before I could overthink any more, I was home. Killing the engine, I locked the car doors and headed inside, no idea who or what might be waiting for me. You never knew who might be sticking around at the baseball house. Thankfully, the house was empty, except for a couple of the guys hanging out in the kitchen. I gave them a head nod before going into my room, half-expecting to see Mac sitting there, waiting for me. He was the only one who knew that I’d brought Danika home tonight.
Clearing her from my mind, I thought about my test in the morning. I really needed to start this class off right, or I’d be making it harder on myself for the rest of the semester. Tossing my bag on top of the desk in my room, I heard him approaching before he even said a word.
“Hey,” Mac said, and I waved him in without turning around, motioning for him to close the door behind him. “How was it? I’ve been dying here, waiting for you to get home.”
I laughed because at least Mac was honest even if he did give me all the ammunition that I needed to bust his balls on a daily basis.
“It was nice,” I answered, suddenly a little unsure of what to say or how much to confess. The night felt too personal. And not necessarily my story to tell.
“It was nice?” he mimicked my response.
“What the hell am I supposed to say? It wasn’t a date or anything.”
He groaned before reaching for a lone baseball on the floor and throwing it in the air before catching it. He repeated the motion. “I know it wasn’t a date, but did your family like her?” he asked, still tossing the ball instead of looking at me.
“They did.”
The ball landed in his hand with a loud pop. “That’s it?” He looked at me, his eyes inquisitive. “They liked her? Nothing else? Your mom isn’t picking out china patterns and planning the wedding or anything?”
I searched my mind for more memories of the night that I felt comfortable with sharing. “I think my sister likes her more than she likes me,” I offered, hoping it would sustain him.