Her fingers tightened around her glass, knuckles turning white. "Chase—"
But he just shook his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "I’m not trying to make this hard on you, Savy. I just—I want you to know that you didn’t imagine it."
Her throat tightened. "Imagine what?"
His gaze held hers, unwavering. "That I loved you."
Her breath stopped completely.
A sharp, dizzying kind of panic clawed at her chest, because he wasn’t supposed to say that. He wasn’t supposed to just put it out there like that—like it wasn’t something fragile and breakable, like it wasn’t something she had spent a year trying to bury beneath a thousand what-ifs and almosts and mistakes.
She hadn’t realized she was gripping the bar like a lifeline until Mallory reached out under the counter, squeezing her knee—silent, supportive, grounding. The world around them was still moving. People were laughing, music was playing, drinks were being poured.
But they—Savannah and Chase—were in their own space. A world where nothing existed but this moment.
Savannah’s voice was barely a whisper. "Loved?"
A heartbeat.
A flicker of something in Chase’s gaze—something raw, something vulnerable, something that made her feel like the ground beneath her wasn’t quite solid anymore. He studied her, slow and deliberate, as if searching for something—as if waiting to see if she could handle the truth before he gave it to her. And then—softly, honestly, devastatingly—
His lips quirked just slightly, but his eyes?They didn’t waver.
"Still."
Savannah’s chest tightened painfully, her pulse roaring in her ears. Because he wasn’t playing games.
This wasn’t flirtation. This wasn’t Chase Montgomery trying to get a rise out of her. This was him. Standing in front of her. Telling her the truth.
No hesitation. No expectations. No regrets. Just honesty. Just Chase.
And for the first time in a year—
Savannah wasn’t running.
She was standing still.
And maybe—just maybe—
she was finally ready to listen.
55
Echoes of Us
Savannahhadspentayear convincing herself that she had made the right choice. That leaving had been the only choice.
That what she and Chase had shared—intense, reckless, all-consuming—had been destined to burn out, leaving only embers behind. But now?
Now she was standing in front of the man she had never stopped loving, and every wall she had built to keep him out was crumbling at his feet.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t even trying to tear them down. He wasn’t pulling her in. He wasn’t making any move to force her decision. He was just there. Like he always had been. Like he always would be.
And for the first time in a year, Savannah realized she didn’t want to run.
She wanted to stay. She wanted to go home.
