Sara was the first to step forward, wrapping her arms around him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I tried to talk her into staying.”
Chase didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just stood there, his body stiff, his breath shallow.
“Did she even think about it?” He asked hoarsely, his voice barely there.
Sara pulled back, her eyes filled with something that looked like pity. “Chase—”
And that was all the answer he needed. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head, stepping away.
Jaxon finally spoke. “Come on, man. We’re taking you out.”
Chase let out a bitter laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not in the mood.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Sara said, giving him a pointed look.
Chase opened his mouth to argue, but Jaxon was already pushing past him, grabbing his keys off the counter. “Low-Tide. Now.”
Chase clenched his jaw but followed them out the door. Because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
Sit here and drown in the memories of her? Sit here and keep checking his phone like some desperate asshole?
Because she wasn’t calling.
She wasn’t texting.
She had left. And she wasn’t coming back.
The Low-Tide Tavern was packed.
People laughed, talked, lived.
And Chase?
He just sat at the bar, nursing his drink, barely listening to the band playing in the background.
Jaxon and Sara were somewhere in the crowd, giving him space.
But space didn’t help.
Nothing helped.
Because this place?
It was still hers.
The booth in the corner? The one where he, Savannah, Mallory, and Nate had shared that perfect meal?
It was still there. Empty. Mocking him.
Chase took a slow sip of whiskey, his fingers tightening around the glass.
Jenna had stopped by earlier. She leaned in, smiled, traced a manicured nail down his arm.
“Miss me, Montgomery?” she had teased.
But Chase?
He had barely looked at her. Because he couldn’t. Because the only woman he wanted wasn’t here.
