a roll of his eyes. “God forbid you referred to him as merely a doctor.”
He shrugged, running his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t interested in being a doctor,” he said, his voice losing the sarcastic edge. “So I picked what I thought would be the next best thing. At least in his eyes.”
“And it wasn’t?” Andie asked, and Chase turned his head to look at her. If he had seen sympathy or pity in her eyes, he would have ended the conversation right there. He didn’t want to be pitied. But the only thing he could find behind those expressive eyes was genuine interest.
“No, it wasn’t,” he said, meeting her gaze before turning back to the road. “He used to send me applications to schools with pre-med programs all the time, with little notes saying it wasn’t too late to change my mind, that he could pull some strings and get me in. I made the dean’s list almost every semester I was there, and you know what he’d say? ‘This will look great on your medical school applications,’” he mimicked, deepening his voice. “Never once did he acknowledge it as its own accomplishment. He would tell people that his son was at Cornell. I guess that was prestigious enough for him, but if they asked what my major was, he’d tell them it was undeclared while I was choosing a med school.” He laughed, shaking his head.
Chase took a deep breath, pulling himself out of the memory. “After a while, I started to think about transferring. I figured med school couldn’t be as bad as being a constant disappointment. But then he left,” he said with an indifferent shrug.
“He left?”
“I’m sorry, I should have been more specific. He moved in with the nurse he’d been screwing behind my mother’s back for three years.”
Andie’s eyes went wide as her mouth dropped a little.
“You know what the messed up thing was, though? For a while after, I kept thinking I should have just gone to med school. That if I had just sucked it up and did what he wanted me to do, he would have been happy, and then he would have stayed.” He looked over at Andie. “But I know that’s not true. He was who he was. Nothing I did was ever gonna be good enough for him.”
Andie sat there with her eyes downcast, fiddling with her fingers. “How old were you?” she asked.
“Nineteen. I was right about to start my third year at Cornell. I almost didn’t go back. I mean shit, the only reason I started that stupid degree was for him. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I worked my ass off there. And I wasn’t gonna let him take that from me. So I finished my degree. That being said, if your dog or ferret or hamster ever gets the flu, you know who to call.”
Andie laughed softly before her expression straightened again. “Do you still talk to him?”
He shook his head. “He calls sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s because his conscience gets the better of him every so often or because he’s bored and just looking to push someone around, but either way, I’m not interested.”
It was silent for a moment before Andie said, “It sounds like you guys were better off without him.”
“I definitely was, that’s for sure. But my mom?” He shook his head. “She was devastated. I never understood why she loved that prick, but she was lost without him. Most of my time was spent taking care of her after that. Just trying to put her back together.”
“Well, I’m glad she had you,” Andie said with such conviction that Chase felt a slight pang in his chest. He smiled gently at her.
“Are you and your mom still close?” she asked.
“She died four years ago.”
He heard the soft intake of breath before she whispered, “Chase. I’m so sorry.”
The ache in his chest intensified. And not because he was talking about his asshole father, or because he was thinking about his mother. It was because of the way she said those words. It was an automatic response for someone to say they were sorry when a loved one died. It was rote. Robotic, even. A formality.
But the sincerity and the compassion she had injected into those four words washed over him, making him feel entirely vulnerable, yet at the same time, completely at peace.
“You know that thing you said yesterday, about everything happening for