Page 64 of The One Timer

Me: What if I don’t want to belong here?

I don't belong in this world—Chase’s world. In my world there are poor and sick, especially older people who need me to take care of them. So many people who don't have oodles of money to buy their care. That’s the world I know and understand.

Not that I'm ungrateful for the generosity of Mrs. Whittier and Chase, but they don't need me as much as the people at the rehab center where I'm interning right now.

My phone pings again while the crowd buzzes around us and I keep my back to the wall. Uncle Walt and Kathleen argue good naturedly about some ad campaign and branding. I check the message.

Merry: That’s heavy

Merry: u ok?

I type in my last message letting her know I have to go and I can deal with it. Brave words. I only hope they’re true.

Chase comes out of the locker room and my belly flutters on cue when our eyes meet. Shit.

My bravery is fading already. I take a deep breath and hold onto my resolve to resist the prince charming, to who I am, for all I’m worth. Not Cinderella.

Chapter Twenty-Two

CHASE

“Blowing a kiss doesn’t count as a PDA,” I yell back over my shoulder as the guys continue to give me shit for my stunt. It was harmless. Right?

I step into the mad house of the corridor outside and too many cameras and cell phones are pointed my way. My grin is automatic.

“Tell us about the kiss, Chase. Who is Emery O’Keefe?”

Shit. They know her name. I maintain my smile. “She’s a lucky lady. How about that goal?”

The regular reporters—my friendlies—chuckle and pick up on the thread and we’re talking hockey like we should be.

Thank fuck. Because out of the corner of my eye I see Coach Nash watching me like he can see right through me and sees the truth of the matter.

Well good. Because maybe if I ask him he can tell me what the fuck I’m doing with Emery.

Is she a lucky lady or am I a lucky guy?

Both. I finish up and hand the media baton to Sabien as I push through the crowd to find my family and my surprise guest, Emery.

Am I too stoked that she’s here? Yes. Do I want to question myself about it right now? No.

I only hope she’s not pissed that the media knows her name. But hell, we’re talking about Emery here. She doesn’t get pissed at stupid shit. No, but she’s not going to like it much.

I can fix that. I can protect her from the media, deflect attention and block her from view if it comes down to it.

I spot Em with my family and straight for her, cocooning her in my arms. Then I sweep her away from the media around a corner to the hallway that leads to the garage. Uncle Walt and Kathleen are all smiles as they congratulate me and we exchange hugs. Then I put my arm back around Em and keep it there.

She beams those golden eyes up at me like I just conquered the world. “Great game, Chase. Congratulations on the win,”

I whisper to her, “That goal was for you. In case you didn’t get that when I blew the kiss at you.”

She laughs. “Did you? I didn’t notice. I don’t think anyone noticed.”

Kathleen rolls her eyes and I punch her arm—not hard, but like I used to when I was a kid and she was an obnoxious teenager.

Uncle Walt says he’s taking us out to dinner to the fanciest place in Portsmouth to celebrate my game winning goal, but no way are we going to that splashy place. Half the fans from the game will be there and I’m likely to get too much attention—and Emery too.

"Change of dinner plans. We're going to a low-key place I know where the patrons will leave us alone and media is a bad word."