Page 43 of What They Say

Chase felt some of the knot in his chest loosen. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.” Benny picked up his guitar again. “Now play me that melody you keep talking about. I want to hear what’s got you so twisted up. Show me those changeups you said you’ve put in. That tune was tight and strong then, can’t wait to hear more.”

Chase laughed softly and reached for his acoustic. As he started playing the warm, rolling progression they’d worked on with Kath’s lyrics still fresh in his mind, he let himself hope.

She might be scared.

He might be nervous.

But the music they made together felt like something worth fighting for.

Chase felt ready to fight for it—slowly, patiently, and honestly.

Just like he’d promised her.

***

Kath

Kath closed the front door behind Chase and leaned against it for a long moment, eyes shut, heart still racing from the way the evening had felt like it was building towards something...more.

She could still feel the warmth of his presence on the couch. The way his voice had wrapped around her lyrics. The soft, focused look in his eyes when he played that melody he said came from her words. For a little while, it had felt like they were the only two people in the world—creating something real together. Something that made her chest feel tight in the best possible way.

She’d wanted him to kiss her tonight.

She’d wanted to let him.

Instead, the second he mentioned Bonnie Dupont—the Bonnie Dupont from Blazeborn and Occupy Yourself—she heard a buzzing in her ears and was suddenly lightheaded. All she could picture was how small her life must look compared to his. Coffee shop shifts. A sister passed out from drinking. A mountain of her mother’s debt hanging over them like a storm cloud. And her—just a girl with a notebook and a bike she probably couldn’t afford.

She’d panicked. Shut down. Practically pushed him out the door with some ridiculous excuse about checking on Maudie.

“Ugh, why am I so lame?” she whispered to the empty hallway, pressing her forehead against the cool wood of the door.

She wanted to text him. Wanted to tell him she was sorry for going weird. That she’d been enjoying every second with him until her brain reminded her why she didn’t let people get close. That the intimacy she’d felt building between them—the kind that went beyond flirting and music—had felt terrifyingly good.

But she didn’t reach for her phone.

Instead, she walked down the hall and quietly opened Maudie’s door. Her sister was still out cold, breathing shallowly, looking younger and more fragile in sleep. Kath stood there for a long moment, watching her, the familiar mix of love and exhaustion twisting in her chest.

This was her life.

This house. This debt. This fear that she’d wake up one day and realize she’d become exactly like their mother—chasing sparks that always burned out and left everyone else to clean up the mess.

She closed Maudie’s door gently and went to her own room. She dropped onto the bed without changing, staring at the ceiling, notebook still clutched in her hand.

The melody Chase had played kept echoing in her head. Warm. Steady. Hopeful.

Just like him.

She wanted to let him in.

She wanted to believe she could be the kind of girl who deserved someone who looked at her the way Chase did—like she was worth slowing down for.

But right now, all she felt was the heavy weight of how badly she’d fumbled the night.

Kath rolled onto her side and pulled her phone out. She opened her messages with Chase, thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

She typed: