Love isn’t defined by one specific interaction or emotion. There’s no rule book on it. No to-do list to make sure you’re doing it right. Don’t bother trying to Google “how to make all the right moves while in love.” That shit just doesn’t exist. Nor do the warning signs about how scary it is. How it’s messy, never to the point, and firsthand, it makes people crazy. But then again, if it doesn’t, then you’re probably not in love.
Let’s not get me started on the types. Because there’s not just one type of love. There’s infinite love. Short-lived love. There’s love that’s so powerful, it hurts. So consuming you struggle to understand its beauty. It can be unexpected and confusing. The love you feel the moment your paths cross at a young age, or love that comes with a lot of struggle, time, and ups and downs before presenting the beauty of itself. But all types lead to a love that’s beautiful, passionate, and worthwhile.
My love story didn’t come all wrapped up in a neat pretty bow. It wasn’t your perfect, storybook material. My love got so messy, it should have come with a cleaning kit. To say it was a bit turbulent at times was an understatement. I thought I knew so much about the four-letter word. Boy, was I wrong.
When I wrote Love Broken, I wrote it for the people who needed a lesson on real love. Little did I know I was one of them. Maybe those people who came through that bar knew about love, just needed to understand the importance of it. That sometimes when times get tough, don’t give up on it. When you feel like you will never have a real shot at it, just remember you are worth the love you’re looking for. Maybe… just maybe, those cheesy pickup lines are some people’s way of trying and hoping to find it.
As they say, ignorance was bliss. And that’s the name tag I wore for a while after the book. Because I wasn’t any better at being able to define what it was, than anyone else was. All I knew was that everyone deserves it. That not a single person will have the same love as the other. Each definition of it will differ. Not everyone loves the same way. And that’s okay.
I accepted Chase’s love and vowed not to diagnose it. I would never be able to compare it to anything else. Because his love wasn’t from a how-to book. It was built just for me. I didn’t want to compare stories and have someone tell me “their love did the same thing.” I wanted our days and nights, our talks and experiences to be ours. And with that said, I stopped analyzing love.
I threw in the towel and decided I was going to ride out the one I had. And no, I don’t mean that kind of riding-it-out. At least not in this context. Because lots of riding since that day has been had.
Chase Green made me see love for what it truly was. Flawed and beautiful. He proved to me that the oldest saying in the book may have had some truth to it. That opposites do attract. Because goddammit, us together, we were destined for an amazing life.
He also taught me the most important attribute of the four-letter word. And that was trust. He made me promise that day that no matter what bumps we hit, I would do one thing, and that was to trust in him. In us that the love we had would beat it. No matter what the obstacle. And with a shed of unstoppable tears, I promised.
It’s been five years and that promise is going strong. Because so is our love. Chase Green gave me something I never thought I was destined for. A life where my heart and soul felt completely full. I won’t deny that it gets overwhelming at times. Because if anything, Chase Green is a lot to handle. When you have a man who thinks his destiny is to make you feel safe and jam-packed with endearments, I won’t deny that sometimes I want to jam one of his hockey pucks in his mouth. The smile I provide just thinking of the exact memory.
“Chase, seriously, stop!” I scream, trying to run around the couch to avoid his hands. “If you don’t stop tickling me, I’m going to murder you!” A simple demand that if he didn’t stop telling me how beautiful I was, I was going to shove his hockey puck down his throat. Last week it was up his ass. I was running out of places to threaten to shove it.
Another dodge, as he reaches over, trying to grab me. “You wouldn’t. Who would rub your feet?”
“Casey. She’s old enough to understand the word rub.” Chase laughs and dashes to the right, trying to catch me.
I dodge another large hand as I take a swift right and dash it down the hallway. I start to scream because I can hear his laughter and feet right behind me. I know I don’t stand a chance.
I barely make it through the threshold of our bedroom, before I’m up and cradled in his arms. “Chase! Don’t, please. You’re gonna make me pee myself again!”
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, babe, now, would we?” He kisses my forehead and places me in his lap and sits down on our gigantic king-sized bed. He brushes my hair out of my face, smiling at the scowl I’m holding. “Now, now. Why the face?”
“Because I told you to stop calling me beautiful.”
“I can’t do that. I think you’re a sight, always.”
I scowl again, wanting to cry. “I’m not. I’m ugly and huge.”
Chase lifts his hand, caressing my belly. “You have never been more beautiful to me. And as much as you threaten me, I’m not staying quiet about it.” Just then Chase starts yelling.
“I have the most beautiful wife! I love my beautiful, perfect, pregnant, grouchy wife!”
I use my elbow to nudge him in the ribs. It’s mid fall, but due to the crazy weather, we have all our windows open. Mr. Bigsley, the neighbor, is outside picking at his garden.
“Seriously, Chase. Shut up. The windows are open!”
“Mr. Bigsley! Did you know that my wife is the most amazing person ALIVE!”
I give another elbow to his chest again, but Chase just laughs it off. Mr. Bigsley just shakes his head and goes back to tending to his garden.
“Stop. Please.”
His eyes are always so tender when he looks at me. “I can’t. Because you are. And I will keep telling you until we’re old and wrinkling and my tongue falls out.”
I go for a third nudge, but this time he smartens up and catches my elbow. He lifts my arm and kisses the inside of my upper arm, then my forearm. One soft press to the inside of my wrist, taking my hand and placing it over his heart.
“You have it workin’ extra hard today.”
“And why’s that?” I ask, choking on my out of whack emotions.
“Because you’re in my arms.”
I laugh. “Chase, I’m always in your arms. You never leave me alone.”
“True, because you’re addictive. But also, because you’re mine and I still can’t believe it.”
I have to close my eyes and rein in my emotions. I’ve been extremely emotional lately, and I’m shocked he’s willing to handle another “Katie the cuckoo” breakdown.
“Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m all yours. Every single mood swing,” I reply.
He takes his hand and rubs at my gigantic belly. “I hope she’s just like you.”
“You mean you want another Casey? So she can debate that grass should be inside?” Just the reminder of how I turned my back for a second and our four-year-old daughter dragged the bag of grass clippings inside and spread them all over our living room, smiling and telling us she “made outside.”
“Well, I hope this one doesn’t want to be a scientist. Having to teach this one about how the eggs in our fridge aren’t actually baby chickens and watch her cry for four days was enough for me.” At that we both laugh. Poor Casey and her toddler theories are going to be the end of us.
“I just want her to have your determination. Your beauty. Your fire.”
Dammit, he has me on that one. My eyes begin to tear up, but of course, he’s there to save the day, wiping away each tear. “You say all this as if you know it’s going to be another girl.”
Chase bends down, pressing a kiss to my stomach. We both have our suspicions. I say girl and so does Chase. My delightful mood swings all align with my pregnancy with Casey.
“Well, then if it’s a boy, he’s going to be handsome, with his mother’s eyes hopefully, and he’s going to be one hell of a hockey player.”
We had a boy. Benjamin was born just hours before Chase had to be on the ice, thankfully at a home game. We were all on pins and needles worried that I would have to deliver by myself. We got lucky with Casey since she was born on Chase’s off season. The birth was easy. Chase cried like a baby. He also played the best game of his entire career that night.
Five years ago, I wrote a story about a girl who fought to understand love. She was so scared to let something so powerful in, knowing it had the potential to destroy her. But it was only when she almost lost it that she realized how much she truly needed it. Needed him. And it was the boy who captured her heart who saved her. Just when she thought she may have missed out on her own chance for that happily ever after, that boy showed her love doesn’t just fade. Especially not for them. He showed her their love would mend the mistakes they made. Heal the hardships both have faced. It would also give her peace. And that boy was right.
Chase and I worked out our differences. We talked and talked until there were no more secrets, insecurities, and questions about us and our future. I explained my hiatus and every single doubt I had festering inside me. I learned that while I was trying to find myself, Chase was super busy. He had finally obtained a lawyer able to outsmart Rebecca and clear himself of any wrongdoings with the league. He chose to come clean and confess, risking losing any spot with the NHL. But he said it was his only way to be free and clear of her. With the help of his lawyer, he paid a hefty fine and no wrongdoings were noted with the league. It seemed after further investigation, Chase technically didn’t accept anything. With his faulty memory and only the word of Rebecca once sober, they came to learn Chase didn’t officially accept anything. It was Rebecca. This left him free of her and her father.
What he told me next almost threw me off his lap. He went on to explain that he had a deal in the works for months now. When that schmuck at the signing mentioned a NHL deal, he was telling the truth. Chase had officially signed on to play for the NHL. The ‘throw me out of my seat’ part of it? He signed with the Cleveland Barons. He told me that no matter how long it took me to come around he wanted to be close when I did. He also told me he passed on three other offers. Because hockey had become second on his list of importance, next to his number one. That one was me.
A lot has happened in the last five years. Reconciliation was just the beginning for us. Marriage. Two beautiful kids. Life was unstoppable for us. Chase’s dream was in full force. He was one of the top five best players in the NHL. When he was asked what made him so good, his answer always stayed the same. Because he did what he loved. Little did they know that saying had a double meaning. And every time his interviews were live, and he looked in the camera and said he “did what he loved,” I would chuckle at my man. Because in bed when it was just us, he would turn to me and tell me how much he loooved doing what he loved. If you haven’t caught on, he loved doing me.
Chase Green and his wit.
Within the last five years, I became part owner of Anchor. Dex had been looking for a partner and I had nothing but love for the bar. I knew it inside and out, and it helped that I was also the best bartender. At first, I didn’t go back to the bar. I needed to do something for myself first. I went back to school. Not to the whole college shebang. I took online classes and finally got my degree. I needed to do it to prove to myself that my life didn’t need to end a certain way. I needed to prove to myself that even if my life didn’t change that night that took my parents, I would have still landed exactly where I needed to be.
This also helped with the bar. I took over the books and business aspect. Dex loved it because it was less on his plate, and I loved it because I was actually really good at it. Not to mention, as well as the bar has been prospering the past couple of years, as of two days ago, we just signed a lease for Anchor’s Two. The second bar plans to open early next year.
In case you were wondering, I didn’t end up having to do any time behind bars, walking out with any jailhouse tattoos for ditching out on the signings and my contract. Kristen, bless her heart, was able to work out a deal. Bless my man’s heart because he was my ticket to freedom. It seems the Director of Romance Association was a huge Charlie Bates fan. An even bigger Chase Green fan. It’s amazing what a signed autograph and season tickets will get someone out of. Two weeks of Hard Knox for me, apparently. Kristen’s career continued to blossom. She forgave my unstableness as I knew she would but made me promise one thing. To continue to be myself. Beautiful with a little bit of crazy.
Life couldn’t have ended up any more perfect. Even though I hate that word. Because nothing in life is truly that way. Perfection will always be the downfall of everything. Every person who can’t find the perfect love, the perfect job, the perfect life. Because, then you ask yourself, does perfect really exist? And if it did, would you want it?
And for the record, love is still broken. It’s still flawed in so many ways, but with Chase, it will always still be beautiful. He told me once in an argument, and yes, our imperfect marriage has them, the only thing that love will never do again is destroy us. We will always forgive, and we will always understand. Because love in the end will never let us down.
I told that to my parents’ grave when I visited them right before my wedding. I told them how I got it. That I didn’t need to find the same love as they had. Because no love is identical. But I found something that was irreplaceable. Because there was no one like Chase Green in this world. My heart can attest to that.
I’m sure one thing you’re dying to know is what came of my writing career. The last book I wrote was the start of my real life. When I truly started to live. I guess you would say the girl got the boy.
And that night, I knew there was no more denying the bond we shared. That unspoken feeling that’s almost bigger than love. While I lay in Chase’s arms, listening to the constant beat of his heart. I asked him about his version of the story he told me and if it had a name.
His reply?
“Yeah, it did, babe. I named it The Story of Us.”
THE END