Then—
"Holy shit."
Chase chuckled. "You good?"
"No, I’m not good!" she practically shrieked. "You, Chase Montgomery, have gone an entire year without getting laid? Am I talking to Chase? Who the fuck are you?" She said laughing.
Chase smirked. "Mal, not that it’s any of your business, but—I haven’t."
Mallory sat back, stunned. Because Chase was never the kind of guy to ride the pine. He wasn’t the type to sit around waiting for someone who wasn’t coming back. He moved on.
He always moved on.
But this?
This wasn’t just moving forward. This was proof that he never really let go.
And it damn near broke her.
She swallowed hard, deciding to lighten the conversation before it got too heavy. "Okay, let’s shift gears before I start crying into my wine. How’s life on the sound?"
Chase hesitated.
Just for a second.
"It’s good. I’ve made some changes to the house."
Mallory raised a brow. "Like what?"
"Kitchen’s different now. New floors, new cabinets. I redid the first-floor guest room, too."
Mallory inhaled sharply. She knew exactly what that meant—
Erasing memories.
She didn’t say anything. But Chase must’ve read her silence.
"It looks different now," he murmured.
"Different," she echoed, voice soft.
"Yeah." A beat of hesitation.
Then—
"I’m thinking about selling it."
Mallory nearly dropped her wine glass. "Wait—what?" She questioned.
"It’s just a house, Mal."
"No, it’s not." Her voice firm.
Chase sighed. "I don’t know. I just think—maybe it’s time for something new."
Mallory bit her lip, unsure of what to say. Because this house? This wasn’t just a place Chase lived. This was where he and Savannah happened. Where they danced barefoot on the dock. Where they made love the night before she left. And now he was thinking about walking away from all of it.
Chase took a deep breath. "Well… if it won’t hurt her, tell Savannah that I said hey, and I hope she’s doing good."
