Chapter 14 Annalise
Annalise
I’m a walking zombie the next day.
Dishes clatter from the stifling, hectic kitchen as voices compete for dominance. Oldies croon from the vintage jukebox. Alex barks orders to everyone within earshot, while patrons laugh, converse, tell stories.
But the only voice I truly hear is my own.
It’s whispering to me. Singing unfamiliar songs.
Maybe just not with him.
The day sails by in an anthem of eerie chords and ominous prose.
Not with him.
When I trudge through the front door that evening and close the door on the sunset-kissed sky, I drink in the aroma of sizzling salmon and savory greens.
Alex glances over his shoulder from the kitchen. Candlesticks flicker from the dining room table, adorning the ivory cloth, as smoke curls toward the ceiling.
He sends me a smile.
Not. Him.
I stare at the smoke, in a daze, slipping out of my heels and securing my purse on the hanger. I blink, and I’m in the kitchen. I don’t remember moving.
“Hope you’re hungry.” Alex flips the salmon in the saucepan and drizzles it with lemon butter and sprigs of fresh dill.
The smell is rich and warm, an invitation that feels too good to be true. I grip the edge of the counter, my fingers pressing into the cool stone.
I should say something. A thank-you. But all that comes out is a breath.
“Sit. I’ll bring you a plate.”
Another blink, and I’m seated at the table with a fork clutched inside my sweaty palm. Alex’s chair squeaks against the tile as he yanks it back and plops down.
He starts talking. Rehashing his day.
A laugh, a scowl, a rant.
There’s a death-metal orchestra banging cymbals in my chest.
Th-thump. Th-thump.
My eyes lift toward the ceiling. Tendrils of smoke curve toward the light, twisting and vanishing before they reach it.
“So maybe I’ll just—”
“I think we need a break.”
I inhale sharply. The crescendo abruptly stops.
My voice cuts through his like a blade, severing his words at the quick.
Alex freezes, fork hovering midair. A slow, cautious smile flickers. “What?”
My mouth snaps shut. Panic slithers through my chest, plunking in my stomach like lead.
He chews his bite of salmon, slow and deliberate. “I’m working on Thailand, don’t worry. I reached out to a travel agent to help us score the best deal. I was thinking fall, after the summer rush. We can—”
“No, I mean…a break. For us.” The words barely make it past my clogged throat. Meek and pathetic. “Something temporary. I don’t know. I just…”
Regret sets in the second his smile fades.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
My eyes sting. “I just feel…sad.”
“Sad?” His brows shoot up. “What are you sad about?”
“I don’t know.”
He scoffs. “You don’t know.” The fork clatters against the plate. “Hire a therapist. We have insurance.”
“Maybe, but it’s more than—”
“What more do you want from me?” He leans back in his chair, arms crossing as his expression hardens to gravel. “What’s your plan? Huh? You work at my restaurant. Sleep under my roof. I cook, pay the bills, indulge your half-assed ideas about writing. What else can I do?”
I hate that his words ring true.
I’ve become so…codependent. Some days, I don’t know where he ends and I begin.
And that terrifies me.
I twist my napkin between my hands, trembling through my next words. “I feel lost. I’m twenty-one, and I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. I don’t want to spend the next decade pulling double shifts at a diner.”
“Unbelievable.” He pushes back from the table so hard his chair nearly tips.
Running both hands through his hair, he paces, exhaling sharp, ragged breaths.
“Do you even hear yourself? Do you realize how selfish you sound? It’s always been me and you.
I take care of you. I love you. I want to fucking marry you. ”
“I know, I just…” I stand with him, my lips trembling, sluiced in salty tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I feel like we’re headed toward a dead end, and I can’t see a way out.”
“So your solution is to break up with me?”
“I said temporary. Just some space to clear our heads, think about what we really want—”
“What you really want.”
I swallow. “I guess.”
“Fuck.” He kicks the chair, launching it halfway across the room.
I flinch back. “Alex, please—”
“Please what?” He whirls around, his face flushed and splotchy. “I. Do. Everything. For. You.” Each word is a hot knife, punctuated by the quick jab of his finger. “I’ve built my life around you. Where are you going to work? Where are you going to sleep?”
“I can stay with Tag for a few days.”
“Tag,” he repeats, his tongue pressing against his cheek. “Your brother, the aimless dreamer who thinks strumming his guitar and singing pretty songs will pay the bills. Must be genetic.”
Heat trails up my chest, my neck, my ears. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re the one blindsiding me with this.”
“I’m trying. I am. I’m trying to figure out what’s best for both of us.”
“Don’t play the martyr.”
“I’m not. I’m—”
“Christ.”
My voice cracks. “Alex, you—”
“Just calm down, my God.”
“Stop saying that!” The words wrench from my throat, splitting at the seams. “I am calm. I’m always calm.”
I’m not.
Not even close.
This is the most uncalm I’ve ever felt.
He stares at me, chest heaving, jaw tight. The veins in his arms distend as he clenches his fists at his sides.
I take a shaky step back. Then another.
Alex doesn’t move to stop me. He just watches, his expression dark and unreadable.
The air feels smothering. Every breath tastes like lemon butter and doubt.
I grab my purse off the hook, my fingers fumbling with the strap. My body screams at me to say something, to fix this before it spirals further. But I don’t know how to fix it. All I can do is replay Chase’s words like a scratchy old record.
You can have both. Maybe just not with him.
“Where are you going?” he demands, low and controlled.
“I told you. I need space.”
“Space. Right.” He paces a few steps before snapping his head toward me. “You don’t get to tell me you’re leaving like it’s some casual fucking announcement over dinner.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“Then don’t start one!” He gestures wildly between us. “Jesus, I’ve given you everything. And you’re seriously walking out? Like that’s going to suddenly give you direction, bring all your bright-eyed dreams to fruition?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Bullshit. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re bailing.” His nostrils flare. “That’s what you do when things get hard.”
“Stop.”
“I wake up every damn day, working my ass off, making sure we have a life, a home, a future. I stuck by you when you had nothing. And now, because you’re sad, you want to run.”
“I’m not running!” My pulse hammers, the room narrowing on all sides. “I’ve stayed. Longer than most people would have.”
His face hardens like I just struck him.
Silence stretches between us, thick and fragile.
I reach for the handle.
“Annalise.”
I freeze, fingers curled around the doorknob.
His tone softens, barely above a whisper. “You’ll come back.”
It’s not a question. It’s a promise, a warning, a hook lodged under my skin, tugging me back toward him.
But I close my eyes. Breathe. Swallow down the remorse, the indecision, the seesaw of conflicting emotions climbing up my throat.
Then I twist the knob and step outside.
***
Calling him was stupid. I know that.
But Tag didn’t pick up, Kenna’s stuck on the closing shift, and my parents are busy chasing their live-off-the-land fantasy in Georgia, turning their retirement into a micro-farm experiment.
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 of doubt—” 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 of glass. Streetlights blur past when the light turns green, striping the dusky sky in gold and shadow.
I’ve heard it before.