Chased Dreams by Lacey Weatherford Read Free Book Online Page A

hard—really hard. I mean, look at my life! Where am I
supposed to go from here? What am I supposed to do? Is this thing
going to get better, or am I going to be some arthritic cripple for
the rest of my life?”
    I gave a frustrated growl and rubbed my face
again. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve heard this all before, but I just
can’t seem to get past it. I’m struggling here, Britt.”
    She rubbed her thumb over the back of my
hand in a comforting gesture as she pondered what I’d said.
    “Have you ever considered going to
therapy?”
    I could feel the sudden tension in her hand
and I knew she was nervous about asking me this.
    “Me? Therapy?” I said with a slight laugh.
“You’d have better luck getting a cat to willingly dive into
water.” I gave her a half smile, knowing she meant well. “I don’t
like getting help. I’ve never liked the idea of relying on someone
else. I know me best—so why should I look elsewhere?”
    “Because you’re not Superman, Chase; and as
hard as it may be for you to hear this, I really think you might
benefit from getting some help. You just said, yourself, that
you’re struggling. I know you’re a strong person, but getting help
will only prove how smart and strong you are. It won’t make you
less so.”
    I wondered if maybe she was right. True, on
the football field I never needed much help; but right now,
emotionally, I was no quarterback. I honestly didn’t know how to
let things go. I said I did, but I didn’t. I was just treading
water while burying things inside me deeper and deeper.
    “You’ve been through hell, you know? You’re
life has had some pretty traumatic twists and turns,” she continued
on. “Think about all the good going to group addiction recovery did
for you. What’s different about this?”
    “It wasn’t a one-on one-type situation. I
didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. I could just sit there and
listen to the others and go through the worksheets on my own. It
wasn’t like lying on a couch and spilling my guts to somebody.”
    She laughed. “I don’t think they’ll actually
make you lay on a couch, honey. And I’m pretty sure if you don’t
feel like talking you won’t have to do that either.”
    “So, let me get this straight. You want me
to pay to go sit on someone’s couch and not talk? I
hate to break it to you, babe, but I can do that right here, for
free.” I grinned so she’d know I was teasing her.
    She yanked her hand away and slapped me in
the shoulder. “You know what I mean!”
    “Hey, now!” I said raising my hands
defensively. “I thought you were a court advocate against domestic
violence—not for it!” I joked. “Besides, I’m injured here. You
don’t want to assault the lame.”
    She shook her head. “ That was lame.
Dork.”
    I chuckled again, always enjoying the
opportunity to mess with her a bit. “Tell you what.” I glanced
around quickly and spied the wrappers from the burgers we’d had
last night still on the coffee table. I grabbed one and wadded it
up before holding it out to Brittney. “If you can make this wrapper
into the trashcan across the room there, I’ll go see a counselor.
But if you miss, you have to wash the dishes for a week.” I smiled,
wondering if she’d take the bait.
    She rolled her eyes at me. “Apparently
you’ve forgotten—I do the dishes every day. I say if I make it, you
will see a counselor and massage my feet every night for a
week.”
    “And if you don’t?”
    She considered this for a moment. “If I
miss, then I won’t bug you about it anymore and I’ll massage your feet for a week. How does that sound?” Her smile
widened and made my heart rate pick up. I loved it when she was
happy. She was having fun with me, but I could tell she was taking
the challenge seriously too.
    “Okay,” I readily agreed. “I’ve seen you
throw; and I’d love to have foot massages for a week. I was a
little surprised by her level of confidence, because my