Jenna slid closer. Too close.
She pressed a hand to his chest, tilting her head. "Dance with me."
Chase glanced toward Nate, who just lifted his beer in silent encouragement.
"Ahh—What the hell," Chase muttered, setting his drink down before leading Jenna to the dance floor.
And the second they started moving, Jenna took her shot.
"You know," she whispered against his ear, her fingers trailing up the back of his neck, "you could take me home tonight."
Chase chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice try, sweetheart."
Jenna pouted. "What? I’m just saying—"
"It’s not happening," he cut in smoothly.
She sighed dramatically, leaning her head against his shoulder for a brief second. "Your loss."
But Chase?
He wasn’t losing anything. Because for the first time in months—He felt free.
For the first time in months, he wasn’t waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back.
And as the night went on?
He had a good time. A true— good time.
He drank, danced, laughed, felt alive.
But when it came time to leave?
When Jenna tried one last time to get him to come home with her?
He turned her down.
Because no matter how much he was moving forward—
Some things?
Some things just weren’t replaceable.
And when he walked out of Low-Tide Tavern that night, heading back toward home, back toward his empty bed—
He still felt her echoes.
45
ChasingGhosts
One Year Later
SavannahMonroewasn’tthesame woman who had left Wrightsville Beach nearly a year ago.
She had tried to move on. Tried to convince herself that what she had with Chase was just a moment in time—a beautiful, fleeting thing that wasn’t meant to last.
But the problem was, Chase Montgomery wasn’t the kind of man you just forgot.
