She done this. She had just broken Chase Montgomery.
And she had destroyed herself in the process.
39
Chasing Echoes
Day One
Thefirstthinghenoticed when he woke up was that the bed still smelled like her.
Her scent lingered, woven into the fabric of his sheets, soaked into his motherfucking skin.
Vanilla and salt and something else—something indescribable, something that was just Savannah. It was everywhere, trapped in the fibers of his pillowcase, clinging to the worn cotton of the sheets, floating in the air around him.
And God, it was fucking torture.
Because every time he breathed in, every time he shifted even the slightest bit, it felt like she was still there. Like if he just rolled over, reached across the bed, his fingers would find the smooth, warm skin of her waist, the dip of her spine. Like if he opened his eyes, he would see her, curled up beside him, her blonde hair fanned out over his pillow, her breath slow and even, her lips parted just slightly.
But when he finally forced his eyes open, she wasn’t there.
Just empty sheets.
Just a cold bed.
Just a hollow, aching void where she should be.
Chase lay there, unmoving, staring at the ceiling, his arms spread wide across the bed like maybe—just maybe—if he reached far enough, she would still be there. That if he stayed still, if he refused to move, refused to acknowledge that this was real, the universe might take pity on him and give him one more second with her.
One more moment.
One more breath.
But he wasn’t that fucking lucky.
The weight in his chest was unbearable, pressing down like something tangible, like a fist clenching around his ribs, squeezing until his breath came in slow, uneven drags.
He closed his eyes again.
Maybe if he fell back asleep, he could dream of her.
Maybe if he stayed like this, he wouldn’t have to remember that she was gone.
And nothing—fucking nothing—was thesame.
Day Two
The quiet was unbearable.
It filled every room, settled into every crack and corner, thick and suffocating, pressing against his skin like a weight he couldn’t shake.
Chase had never been the kind of man who needed noise, but now?
Now, the silence was deafening.
No sound of her bare feet padding across the hardwood floors. No soft hum of her voice in the morning as she made coffee, as she stole sips of his before he could even take a damn drink. No laughter from the bathroom when she thought he wasn’t listening. No distant sound of the old radio she liked to turn on while she got ready.
Just nothing.
