Now, he was in front of her again, standing beneath the soft glow of neon lights, in a room full of strangers who adored him.
And he looked exactly the way he had when she had walked away.
Like she had stolen something from him.
Like she had taken more than just her absence with her when she left.
A flicker of emotion passed through his gaze—something too fast for her to catch, too layered to decipher. Frustration? Surprise? Something softer, something broken?
No. Not Chase.
He wouldn’t let her see that.
Savannah’s fingers curled around the edge of the bar, grounding herself, forcing her legs to stay still, to not run. Because, God help her, every instinct was screaming at her to turn around and disappear before he could say her name, before he could ask why.
But she didn’t move.
Chase blinked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, his hands flexing at his sides. A slow inhale. A slower exhale.
And then—
Then, in true Chase Montgomery fashion, the moment shifted.
Because instead of letting the weight of the past swallow him, instead of letting the tension consume them both, he did what he always did best.
He grinned.
Slow. Calculated.
Like he was amused. Like this was fun for him. Like he was already three steps ahead of her.
A smirk, just barely there, tugging at the corner of his mouth. A flick of his thumb against the brim of his cap.
And then, as if nothing in the world had changed—as if she hadn’t just upended the fragile balance of this place, this night, his life—Chase turned back to his conversation.
He made her wait.
Savannah’s stomach tightened.
Of course he did.
She could feel Gus watching the whole thing unfold, his hands idly wiping down the counter, his smirk as sharp as the tension in the air. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to.
Because Chase hadn’t come over. Hadn’t made a scene. Hadn’t demanded answers.
He just smiled.
And that—that damn smile—was somehow worse.
Because it meant the next move was hers.
Savannahdidn’t see Mallory motion to Chase. Telling him to come over.
She barely had time to process the grin—that damn grin—before Chase was moving.
Effortless. Smooth. Like this wasn’t a reunion between two people whose pasts had been colliding in their dreams for the last year, but instead just another night, another moment, another game to play.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move.
