I brave his stare, soften my stance. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Feels like I did.”
“It’s just…I think maybe we should keep our distance. After the wedding is over.” It hurts to say it. I don’t want to give up these nights. These sessions. But I don’t know what else to do.
Chase studies me, the hidden meaning seeping to the surface. “Alex,” he deduces, hands slipping into his pockets.
I nod. Swallow.
He rocks back on his heels, gaze dropping. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“It’s nothing personal. I like spending time with you. You feel like…an escape.” My throat chafes like a fresh roll of sandpaper. “But it’s weighing on me. A lot.”
“I understand.”
I can see that he does. And while neither of us voice the context aloud, we both know why. Something shifted. An abrupt modulation, minor to major, just like that. Now we have to find the rhythm again. Simple, safe, and easy to play.
He looks up, over my shoulder, a soft smile on his lips. “The show,” he says. “It’ll be good.”
“Yeah, I think so too.” I’m grateful for the change in subject. The reprieve. “Tag seems like he’s warming up to you.”
“Was only a matter of time.” He finds my eyes, the smile lingering. “Thanks for bringing me into all this. The music.”
“Of course. You’re talented, Chase.”
Tires crunch in the distance as headlights flood the dark neighborhood street, inching closer.
I drink in a shaky breath. “I wrote another verse to that song I was working on. You can finish it if you want. Maybe something will take off, and you’ll have another song in your arsenal.”
His gaze flicks from the headlights to me, brows knitting. “What do you mean?”
I shrug. “You never know. You and my brother work well together. I can see it going somewhere.”
“But it’s your song.”
“Yes…but I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. Alex is right. My dreams are too big, and the sacrifices are too heavy. I need to focus on what I have, not on what could be.”
A frown bends. “But when you sacrifice what could be, you’ll never know what you’re giving up. What you’re capable of.”
The response settles in the crux of my chest, triggering a rush of tears. I’m getting vulnerable again. With Chase as my witness.
And that’s a mistake.
But I can’t stop the words from pouring out. “I think I just expect too much,” I admit, my voice quiet. “Out of life. Out of people. Out of myself. And when it all crumbles—when I realize I’m not enough—I don’t know how to deal with the fallout. The failure. It’s easier to wade in the shallow end sometimes. Less disappointment.”
Chase stares at me, silent.
The car rolls up in front of the house. My ride.
I blink at the black sedan, grinding my teeth. “Anyway…that’s me,” I say, gripping my purse strap. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “See you.”
I break away, heading for the car. My fingers curl around the door handle when his voice cuts through the night.
“Annie.”
I hesitate, turning back.
