She had done her best to push it aside, to move on like she told herself she was supposed to. But no matter how much she tried, his name still lingered in the air around her. His presence still wrapped itself around her like an old, familiar sweater she couldn’t bring herself to take off.
Now, standing at her mailbox, a new weight settled in her chest.
She had just gotten back from lunch with Mallory, her stomach still full from too many fries and a milkshake she barely finished. It had been a good day. A light one. One where Chase wasn’t at the forefront of her mind, at least for a little while.
But then—this.
Savannah sorted through the stack of mail absentmindedly as she walked toward her front door. A magazine, junk mail, a water bill—typical things she barely paid attention to. But then her fingers brushed over something different.
A handwritten envelope.
Her steps faltered.
The weight of the paper felt heavier than it should have. Her name was written across the front in a familiar, slanted scrawl. Her breath caught.
She turned it over, her fingers shaking, her pulse hammering in her ears as her gaze landed on the return address.
Chase Montgomery
124 Whispering Echoes Drive
Savannah sucked in a sharp breath, gripping the envelope tighter. The worldaround her blurred.
“Sav?” Mallory’s voice barely registered as Savannah stepped inside, shutting the door behind her as if that alone could steady her.
She walked in a daze, straight to the couch, sinking down without a word. The envelope sat in her lap, heavy, haunting.
Mallory kicked off her shoes and glanced over, noticing the way Savannah was just sitting there, staring at it like it might disappear if she blinked.
“What is that?” Mallory asked cautiously, setting her purse down.
Savannah swallowed hard, not looking up. “It’s from him.”
Mallory went still. “Chase?”
Savannah gave the smallest nod. Her fingers traced the edge of the envelope, the rough ridges where it had been sealed.
Neither of them spoke.
The only sound in the room was the quiet hum of the air conditioning, the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall.
Mallory shifted closer. “What does it say?”
Savannah exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I—I haven’t opened it yet.”
Mallory hesitated. “Do you want to?”
Savannah didn’t know the answer to that.
She should have been prepared for this. Chase was coming to Asheville. She had known that. Had spent days debating whether she would see him, whether she would avoid him entirely.
But this?
This was unexpected.
This was terrifying.
Because Chase didn’t write letters.
