Page 3 of Worth the Chase

“No,” she said before turning her back on me. She started rinsing out a stack of used glasses.

She thought this conversation was over, but it was just beginning. Because even though I could have any woman in this place, I only wanted one. And I wasn’t the type of guy who gave up that easily, even if the odds were definitely not in my favor.

BOYS ARE STUPID

BELLA

Iturned my back on the one guy who could affect me like no other and pretended to be too busy to entertain him any longer. Washing and rinsing out glasses, I could still hear Matthew mumbling behind me, but I refused to stop what I was doing and face him. He could talk to himself for all I cared.

You see, Matthew O’Grady had been ruining my life since I was fourteen years old. Probably longer, if I was being honest with myself. The guy was my first crush, my first love, and my first kiss, all rolled into one. Although, to be fair, I wasn’t sure he knew about that last part. The other two, he’d been acutely aware of, much to my utter embarrassment and my older brother’s torment.

I’d first seen Matthew at the ice rink when I was forced to go to Leo’s practice. I always complained that I was old enough to be left at home alone, but my mom never agreed. She also claimed that it was good for me to support my brother, just like he’d do for me if I ever decided to play any sports. It was the teacher in her, I assumed. She was always trying to push kindness and inclusivity, even for an annoying older brother who could sometimes be the meanest person on the planet.

So, I sat at practice in the freezing cold stands, pretending to be bored, but for some reason, I found myself fascinated instead. Even though my hockey knowledge was fairly limited, I’d still known there was something different about the way Matthew O’Grady played.

He skated on the ice like he had been born on it. There were no shaky ankles or wobbly knees. The guy glided effortlessly, stopping and starting on his skates like it was as easy for him as walking. And he handled his stick like it was an extension ofhis body, unlike the other guys, who fumbled around with it like they were uncomfortable having it in their grasp.

I remembered the first time I had been formally introduced to him. Practice had just ended, and his dark hair was covered in sweat, beads of it rolling down his red cheeks. He’d looked like he’d stepped out of a magazine—he was that good-looking up close.

“Mom, this is my best friend, Matthew,” Leo said.

I stood there like a fool with a smile on my face, but Leo ignored me completely.

Matthew nudged him with his elbow before asking, “And who’s this?”

“My annoying little sister, Isabella.”

“Bella,” I corrected. I hated being called by my full name. I liked the nickname better.

“Which one is it—Isabella or Bella?” Matthew asked, his eyes staring into mine.

I’d never seen eyes that color blue before. They were downright mesmerizing.

Leo and I answered at the same time, each of us saying a different version of my name. Matthew just laughed and gave me a smile.

And that was all it took.

One smile, and I was crushing on the guy. Hard.

Matthew had come over sometimes, but after his mom died in a car accident, he started spending most of his off time at our house. He said that being at the family farm was too hard. It hurt too much to be around all that sadness and pain. And he liked the way it felt, being at our home, which was still intact and filled with love instead of sorrow.

It made me happy that he saw my family that way. And I liked having him there. Every time he gave me even a sliver ofattention, I took it to mean something far more than it did. I filed every interaction in my memory bank. Wrote it down in my journal so I could remember it forever and never forget the way I’d felt. Each conversation was documented and decorated with sloppy hand-drawn hearts and my first name with his last. Teenage crushes were powerful. All-encompassing.

And misleading as hell.

When he got drafted to the NHL, I swore my heart broke a little, even though I was tremendously proud and happy for him. I’d wanted him to have this, but I also knew that it meant he’d be leaving for good. Teenage Bella couldn’t imagine not seeing the boy she loved every day anymore.

But then he did the most unexpected thing and gave me my first kiss the night before he left.

He’d looked right at me and said, “If a guy doesn’t kiss you like this the first time, Bells, don’t let him do it again.”

Then, his tongue was in my mouth, his hand was on the back of my head, and his lips were ever so gently pressed against my own. It was soft. It was patient. It was the best first kiss of my life.

I had no idea what his words meant, but I knew exactly how that kiss made me feel.

Treasured.

Valued.

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