Chapter 36 Chase
Chase
I should let her go, let her be.
But I can’t.
I’m on the move, chasing her out into the rain, still high from the taste of her melon-sweet lips.
My blood is roaring, my restraint unstitching into tattered ribbons.
If we do this tour, she needs to be mine.
No more pretending. No more dancing around the inevitable.
I’m so tired of this charade, of being the bigger person.
I bust through the back door, slamming the slider shut. “Annalise.”
She’s bent over the deck railing like she’s going to puke. “I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“Then don’t.” The rain picks up, dousing me in angry, cold sheets. “You don’t need to keep acting like you don’t feel this.”
Whirling around to face me, she shakes her head, a strand of hair glued across her mouth. “I do feel it. Of course I feel it.” She swats the piece of hair away, her hands balling at her sides. “Why do you think this is killing me?”
I step forward. “It doesn’t have to.”
“You don’t get it. I’m engaged.” Her left hand flies up, fingers wiggling back and forth as the pear-shaped diamond reflects off the string lights. “I’m marrying him. I was always meant to marry him.”
Jaw tight and body vibrating, I meet her stare. “I see the ring. But I also see this.” With another step forward, I wave a hand between us. “And this doesn’t lie.”
“God, Chase.” She grips handfuls of her hair, fisting tight. “You’re acting like this is a simple choice of deciding what to make for dinner.”
“I’m not saying it’s simple, but it is a choice. And you’re choosing someone who tells you who to be. Not someone who sees you as you are.”
Her voice splinters with grief. “That’s not fair. You don’t understand. Marriage can fix this. It has to. After everything I’ve put into us, all the years, all the sacrifices…this is the moment it pays off. This is when it gets better.”
Regret overrides the ache, and I know my heart is possessing my tongue. But how can it not when she’s standing here convincing herself that a ring is salvation? She’s not being fair either. She’s tying me in knots, then pulling the string, letting me unravel all alone.
I take her by the arm, holding up her wrist. The lingering bruise, now green and fading, is highlighted by the moon.
Her eyes slowly pan to the evidence.
“Did he do this to you?” The question comes out raw, laced with heartbreak. Because I already know the answer. I just need her to say it out loud.
Her mouth parts, but the words get caught. Trapped behind chattering teeth and pride and fear. I watch the shame flicker across her face.
Then she pulls her wrist back like I burned her. “It wasn’t… He didn’t mean to.”
My stomach caves in. “Annalise.”
She shakes her head and steps back. “It was just an accident.”
“That is not an accident. If someone hurts you, you don’t stay. You don’t make excuses for them. You walk away.” Anguish courses through me, fracturing my thoughts, my waning willpower. “I would never hurt you.”
A stuttered breath. “I know.”
“This is killing me too,” I confess.
Her tears mingle with rainwater.
The downpour intensifies, beating down in savage rivers.
Annie wraps her arms around her body, her tank and leggings soaked through.
“It’s always been Alex,” she whispers, voice hardly penetrating the storm.
“He was my first kiss. First dance. He taught me how to ride a bike, how to read, how to braid my goddamn hair.” Her lips tremble.
“He was there when I broke my arm roller skating. When my parents moved away. When my grandma died. He’s in everything.
Every memory, every scar. I don’t know how to let that go. ”
I shake my head. “Listen to what you’re saying.”
“I am listening—”
“You’re giving me examples of your past,” I say, advancing on her, my boots slapping against puddles as my pulse climbs with every breath.
“Tell me about now. Tell me about the person who’s supporting your dreams, making music with you, begging you to believe in all that you are.
Because you’re brilliant, Annie. Absolutely brilliant in every way.
” I close the space between us until we’re nearly chest to chest. “Does he tell you that?”
She goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
I keep going, handing her my heart like it’s the only thing I have left.
“Does he listen to your songs and feel them? Does he stay up all night obsessing over lyrics just because they mean something to you? Does he hear your voice and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that it’s the one thing in the world that makes him feel alive? ”
“Chase…”
“I know I’m being selfish. I know. And you’re right, it’s not fair.” I steeple my hands as rain breaches my collar, streaming down my back. “But I’m done being the martyr. The bystander. The nice guy. I want you so badly it fucking hurts.”
She gapes at me, lashes dappled in raindrops.
The deluge rages on around us, inside us, reflecting in her tortured eyes.
“Don’t give me history,” I plead, forcing out the final words. “Give me the present. Give me right now.”
I don’t touch her. Don’t reach for her.
Just wait.
I refuse to be the reason she resents this. If she gives in, it has to because she wants to. Needs to. Because there’s no other choice.
Lightning flashes, but she doesn’t flinch. Thunder booms overhead, the rain relentless and sharp. Her chest heaves, gaze transfixed on mine.
Then her focus slips. Settles on my mouth.
Her pupils blow wide.
The storm moves through me like a drug, and I know what’s coming next.
Annie lunges at me.
Her hands crash into my chest, then fist my shirt like she wants to tear it off. She yanks me down, and her mouth slams into mine with a force that knocks the air out of me.
My tongue dives into her mouth. Tangling, tasting, taking, like I’ve waited lifetimes for her kiss. Her hands claw up my shoulders, into my hair, gripping hard, dragging me closer as I devour her. I drive her backward until her spine hits the railing.
It’s messy. Ferocious. Months of tension snapping like a detonated fuse.
I groan into her mouth, low and guttural, my palm bracketing her neck as I angle her face. Her skin is rain-slick, cold beneath my touch, but her mouth is hell-born fire. Warm and soft and open. Our lips crash and slide, wet from the sky and wetter from us.
She hangs on for dear life, clinging to me like she’ll float away with the storm if she lets go.
Her fingers rake down my back, nails scratching, her breathy moans rocketing straight to my cock.
I grind against her, lifting one of her legs to hook around my hip.
She feels me there, hard and ready, pressing between her thighs.
My eyes roll up. I imagine sinking deep inside her as she writhes and yields, sticky with sweat, damp from rain.
Fuck.
I suck her tongue into my mouth, drag her lower lip between my teeth. Her nipples tighten beneath her tank, and I cup her breast, palming hard, my thumb grazing over the pebbled peak.
She shudders, head tipping back, mouth wide open and panting.
Her gasp is dynamite to my blood as she sags in my arms, and I move to her throat, licking, biting, inhaling salt and raindrops. “Leave him, Annie,” I rasp, trailing kisses along her jaw. My tongue sweeps against hers, softer now. Coaxing. “Come home with me.”
It’s all I can think about. Ripping off her wet clothes and burying my face between her legs. Feeling her break, her release coating my tongue.
She gasps again, but this time it’s strained, saturated in something heavier than lust.
Pain leaks through.
And I know; I know she’s not ready.
Her diamond ring pierces my skin as she grips me tight around the neck.
A cruel reminder. A gleaming wedge between us.
I break the kiss, breath ragged, and lower my hand to her hip. Pressing my forehead to hers, I squeeze my eyes shut.
She shivers in my arms, the fallout imminent.
“Fuck…” I wind my arms around her. Lock her against me like I can shield her from the world. “I’m sorry.”
She folds in on herself, burying her face in my chest. Her sob cuts straight through me.
I pushed too hard. Too fast.
Turned her into someone she never wanted to be.
“I’m sorry, Annie,” I chant again, again, again, into her hair, into the rain, into every broken space between us. “So fucking sorry.”
She rips away from me.
As if touching me was a mistake she can’t undo.
Her eyes flare with panic, chest heaving. “What the hell am I doing?” she whispers, more to herself than to me. “What did I just…”
She backs up, hand to her mouth like she’s going to be sick. The ring catches the light again, sharp and accusing.
“I can’t do this,” she chokes out. “I can’t be this person.”
“Annie—”
“Don’t.” Her voice cracks in time with thunder. “Please. Please…just don’t.”
I freeze, fists clenched. The rain pelts my shoulders, but all I feel is the heartbreak in her voice. The horror in her eyes.
She turns, nearly slipping as she bolts for the door, wrenching it open with a slick, shaking hand.
The door slams.
I’m left with nothing but the downpour, the ghost of her kiss still on my lips, and the cold hollow where her body used to be.
I drag a hand through my drenched hair, heart hammering. A growl tears through my throat, but I bite it down.
She’s not just running.
She’s burning.
And I’m the one who lit the match.