She had spent the last year pretending. Pretending she was okay. Pretending she was healing. Pretending that life had gone back to normal.
But it hadn’t.
Nothing had felt normal since the day she left.
Her favorite coffee shop? It didn’t taste the same. The city of Asheville? Too loud. Too suffocating. Her apartment? Too quiet. Too empty.
She had filled her days with work, trying to stay busy, trying to ignore the ache in her chest every time she saw a pickup truck that looked like his, every time she heard a song that reminded her of him, every time she saw the ocean in a movie and thought about what she had left behind.
And Chase?
She didn’t know.
Not really.
She had done everything in her power to avoid finding out. She didn’t check social media. She didn’t ask Mallory for updates. She didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t give herself a single excuse to reach for him.
Because if she did?
She wasn’t sureshe’d survive it.
Tired of Pretending
Savannah Monroe was tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of smiling when she didn’t mean it. Tired of dragging herself through the motions of a life that felt foreign without him.
She had tried to push through it.
She buried herself in work, forced herself into a routine, convinced herself that time would dull the ache in her chest.
But time wasn’t healing anything. It was only making the silence louder, the loneliness heavier, the realization more brutal.
And Mallory?
She had seen enough. “You need to go on a date.”
Savannah groaned, throwing her head back against the couch, already exhausted by the idea. “Mallory, no.”
Mallory narrowed her eyes from across the kitchen, arms crossed over her chest, her patience wearing thin. “Yes.”
“No,” Savannah argued, dragging a pillow over her face.
“Yes.”
“Mallory.”
Mallory let out a long-suffering sigh, walking over to the couch and perching on the edge like she was gearing up for an intervention.
“Savy, I love you. But you have to start living again.”
Savannah exhaled sharply, staring at the ceiling. “I am living,” she muttered.
Mallory scoffed. “No, you’re surviving. There’s a difference.”
Savannah swallowed hard, her throat tight. She hated that Mallory could read her so easily.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” she admitted, her voice smaller than she intended.
Mallory’s expression softened. “I know.”
