I didn’t know who else to call.
And that realization is another dagger to my chest.
Have I really become this isolated?
This alone?
I slam the passenger door shut, sealing myself inside the car.
Chase hesitates, his fingers looped around the steering wheel. “You okay?”
“No.” I slump back in the seat, fold my arms, and stare out the window. “Do you mind dropping me off at Tag’s? I’m going to crash there for the night.”
I have nothing to my name. Not even an overnight bag. Just my purse, my cell phone, a threadbare heart, and today’s work clothes that are dappled in stains.
“Yeah. Sure.” He glances at me in my periphery before the engine purrs to life and we accelerate out of the café parking lot that I power-walked to.
I careen into the past, to the last time I was stuck in a car with Chase Rhodes. Somehow this feels worse. Scarier. This gnawing sense of limbo, this existential crisis.
More tears lance my eyes as I whip my head toward him. “Why did you say that to me?”
He frowns, taking his eyes off the road for a beat to catch my gaze. “What?”
“‘Not with him,’” I echo, feeling torn, divided, confused. “You said I can have both, but not with him. Why?”
“Annie—”
“I’m trying to understand it. Because I’ve been with Alex my whole life, and I’ve never truly considered that. I’ve never pictured a future without him. And now I’m having these awful thoughts, these combative feelings, this pang ofdoubt—” I slap a flat palm to my chest, to the bleeding source of my inner conflict. “You don’t know me. Why would you say that?”
“I shouldn’t have said it.”
I blink at him, fresh tears slipping free. “But you did.”
We ease up to a stoplight, and Chase turns to look at me, his gaze piercing, apologetic. “Look, it wasn’t my place, and I realize that. I regretted it the second I said it.” His hands tighten on the wheel before he glances away, out the windshield. “I just…I know what it looks like when someone is drowning. And I know what it looks like when they don’t even realize it. So it just slipped out. And I’m sorry if I made it worse.”
The breath leaves my lungs in a shaky whoosh.
Locking my jaw, I turn away, pressing my forehead against the cool pane ofglass. Streetlights blur past when the light turns green, striping the dusky sky in gold and shadow.
I’ve heard it before.
Tag, in his blunt, no-bullshit way. My parents, in softer moments, their words carefully chosen but still laced with concern. Even Kenna, who swore she’d never meddle, let it slip between sips of wine on her couch:“Don’t you think you deserve better?”
And every time, I brushed it off. Called it worry. Misunderstanding. I told myself they didn’t see the whole picture. That they didn’t know Alex like I did, didn’t grasp the guilt I’ve carried, all the little weights that have turned into an anvil and kept me rooted by his side.
But Chase?
We only just met.
He has no reason to care, no reason to say something just to soothe me, or push me, or convince me that this life I’ve chosen might not be the right path.
Yet he saw it. Just like everyone else. And for the first time, the thought didn’t bounce off the armor I’ve built around this relationship.
His words reached me. Stuck.
Lingered.
And now they’re hollowing me out.
