Chapter 22 Annalise #2
This is the worst time to get cold feet.
“Something wrong?” Tag plucks at a few strings. “You look wiped.”
“Long day,” I murmur, my mind floating in la-la land. I feel Chase’s eyes on me, probing, digging. “Maybe we can start with something easier. ‘Shut Up and Dance’ by Walk the Moon?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Tag tunes his guitar, clearing his throat.
Chase jumps in, and I join at the chorus. We blend seamlessly.
An hour rolls by in a blur.
Sighing, I toss the stack of papers onto the coffee table. “I think I’m going to head out early. I don’t know why I’m so tired tonight.”
“Probably because you sleep two hours a day, max. You look morgue-bound.” Tag makes a face. “But is this the best time to suddenly catch up on your beauty sleep? Our practice window is bleak.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Avoiding all eye contact, I jump from the recliner and pull out my phone to order an Uber. “You guys stay and practice. Promise I’ll be one with the living tomorrow.”
Running from the inevitable interrogation, I escape from the basement and haul myself up the stairs, beelining for my shoes and purse. The moment I’m out the door, waiting for my ride and itching for a cigarette, I hear the screen snap closed behind me.
My body tenses; I already know who it is.
“Hey,” Chase calls out, joining me at the edge of the driveway.
Squaring my shoulders, I stare out at the empty street lined with dark houses. Doors locked, blinds drawn shut. Just like me.
“What’s wrong?” He settles in beside me, our fingers brushing.
“Nothing’s wrong.” I fold my arms, tucking my hands underneath my armpits. “I’m just tired.”
“You haven’t said a word to me all night. Hardly looked at me.”
“It’s not intentional.”
False. It’s next-level intentional.
But it’s not because of Chase. It’s because of me.
A sigh escapes as he pivots into my sightline, forcing me to look at him. His expression is weary, pained. “What did I do?” he wonders softly.
My heart pangs.
All I want to do is close my eyes and wash him away. Evict this horrible feeling from my blood, this destructive squatter.
This is a test, Annalise. You can do this. Be strong.
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.
His eyes hold mine, steady. “You’d be shocked to know how incredibly enough you are, just the way you are.”
I freeze.
All the air leaves my lungs.
A whoosh. A gasp. A hurricane.
He sends me a faint smile before turning away. “Good night.”
I watch him stalk back to the house and disappear inside, my chest stretched thin. A flimsy rubber band, ready to snap.
“You coming?”
The driver’s voice startles me, just as a tear slips loose. “Yes,” I breathe out, pulling the door open and collapsing inside.
The man makes chitchat while we roll away, but I’m not listening.
I feel paralyzed.
Fishing my phone out of my purse, I unlock the screen and scroll through my contacts, landing on Chase’s name.
My eyes burn, hot and wet. Through the blur, I copy a chunk of text from my Notes app and paste it into the message box.
I press send.
Then I delete his number from my phone.
[Verse 2]
We used to dance in time with thunder
Never feared the lightning strike
But now the storm’s gone silent
Lost its will to fight
And so we dance on broken glass
To notes we left unsung
A song that never started
Ashes on my tongue