I blink at him, tongue-tied, my chest inflating with a volley of responses I can’t seem to expel.
A frown creases his brow, and he ducks his chin. “Sorry. That wasn’t my place.”
“No, it’s fine. I hear you.”
I do hear him. The hypocrisy echoes loud and clear. The double standard of it all.
But this is different; Chase’s dreams are within reach, career-worthy and life-changing. Mine are buried in overtime and back-to-back shifts, where the clatter of dishes and the endless call for orders stifle any room for ambition.My dreams don’t fit between refilling water glasses and balancing trays. They aren’t bright enough to outshine Alex’s impossible standards and short fuse as he stands over the line, splotchy-faced and sharp-tongued.
Anything worth fighting for feels smothered by the exhaustion clinging to my bones.
My cheeks grow warm, my eyes scratchy.
I dig my palms into the spiral coils of my notebook, leaving red marks behind. “My boyfriend…he’s not overly supportive. Says I need to grow up, that my head is in the clouds. He’s been running a restaurant since most people were still figuring out what they wanted to be, while I’m pouring myself into things that don’t pay the bills. These moments, these midnights, they’re all I have right now. All I can afford.”
This seems to fire him up again. “Your boyfriend doesn’t support you?”
“No, he does.” I try to backpedal, my pulse running away from me. “He does, in all the ways that count. We’ve been together for years, been friends since we were kids. He’s always been with me. It’s just…this…” I hold up the notebook. “There isn’t room forthisin our lives right now. Not in the capacity you’re talking about.”
His gaze is hooded as he stares at me, unblinking. “That’s tragic, Annie.”
Pressure throbs behind my eyes, and my heart feels like a ninety-pound dumbbell floating in my chest. With a sharp breath, I release the notebook and swipe my hands down my thighs. “It is what it is. I’m okay with where I’m at.” We’re getting off track, edging toward the deep end, and I’m not ready to drown him with my complicated relationship history. Biting my lip, I glance up. “Are you?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “No.”
We stare at each other in charged silence. Something trembles inside me. A fault line cracking.
Before I can reply, Chase rises from the couch, setting aside the guitar. “I’m going to head out,” he says.
“Right. Yeah, it’s late.” Standing with him, I fiddle with the sleeves of my blouse, wishing the session wasn’t over so soon. We didn’t get to write or compare notes. We compared ghosts instead. “Um…you should stop by the cafénext week. The first Thursday of the month is open mic night. Anyone is invited to take the stage.”
He pauses, case in hand. “Are you going to sing?”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I might.”
“I’ll see you there.”
I watch as he hauls his guitar forward and trudges up the staircase, favoring his left leg, and disappears without another word. I’m still zoned out, marveling at the stairwell, when Tag returns with a plate of bubbly pizza rolls. He stuffs one into his mouth and promptly curses when it scalds the crap out of his tongue.
He spits it back out. “The felon has left the building?”
I snap out of the daze and gift him with another glare. “You were an ass.”
“Better than being a felon. I should’ve pressed charges.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it. I saw the way you watched him play. You heard what I heard.”
“Mm.” Tag narrows his eyes at the piping hot rolls as a cloud of steam billows from the plate. Then he peers over at me, an earnestness filling his gaze, curling with shadows. “You’re playing with fire, Annalise.”
I swallow hard. Don’t respond.
My eyes track my brother as he takes a seat on the couch and reaches for his Martin, strumming the strings with calloused fingertips.
He’s wrong.
The only fire I’m playing with is the one inside me.
Chapter 11Annalise
