Chapter 38 Annalise
Annalise
“Van is ready!”
My brother’s voice cuts through the fog as I’m curled up in his spare bedroom, the space littered with boxes and clothes strewn over mismatched furniture. Puffing my cheeks with a breath, I toss my notebook aside, the pages scribbled in crossed-out lyrics and smudged ink.
It’s been three weeks since that video went viral, and our spur-of-the-moment tour is far from meticulously planned.
It’s messy, gritty, and ambitious. In two days, we hit the road, geared up to play small venues and college towns along the East Coast. A mix of bars, pop-ups, a beachside acoustic, and an opening slot for a mid-level indie band.
Our socials exploded. Chase went from barely a hundred followers to 500K, and I recently hit the six digits.
Comments are begging for tour dates and Spotify links.
Our inboxes are filled with praise, requests, and promises.
Some legit, some sketchy. Kenna takes over my socials and creates an official band account across all platforms, while Crowley makes connections with industry bigwigs, putting us on the path to success.
We weren’t ready. We’re still not ready. But that doesn’t stop us.
Over ten million views. Thousands of comments and tags.
It’s a dream come true…
A dream, shadowed by the fallout of my broken relationship.
I peer down at my empty ring finger, trying not to imagine the look on Alex’s face when I placed the diamond in his hand. Or the way he begged for me to stay, to give him one more chance, when I returned to the condo to pack up my things. Or the text messages that followed.
Grinding my teeth together, I thumb through the last string of messages between us.
Alex: Annalise. Please. I’m sorry for the things I said. I was mad. Totally blindsided.
Alex: Hey, call me. I just want to talk.
Alex: I’m willing to forgive you. We both fucked up. Just text me back.
Alex: Why can’t you pick up the phone and call me? I deserve that much. You cheated on me. Fuck.
Alex: I’m sorry. I love you.
Alex: I can’t do this without you. Please come back to me.
Days later, I finally returned his texts.
Me: It’s over.
Me: Go to Thailand. Swim in the lagoons. Feed the monkeys. Eat that weird scorpion-on-a-stick thing you always talked about. Do all the things we said we would.
Me: But not for me. For you.
Me: Please don’t contact me again.
He hasn’t.
I stare at one of the messages as a knot tightens in my throat.
You cheated on me.
“Annalise!”
My head snaps up. Hauling my legs over the side of the bed, I glance in the mirror, doing a double take. Dear God. My roots are greasy, my skin pastier than week-old mashed potatoes, and my eyes tell stories of sleepless nights and soul-deep guilt.
When I look down, I notice I’m not even wearing pants.
Mortified, I do a one-legged hop into a pair of yesterday’s leggings, douse my head in a cloud of dry shampoo, and spritz perfume on every exposed inch of my skin.
Then I race down the stairs and out the front door, painting on a smile. All the guys, plus Kenna, are gathered around the van, now officially christened.
Slapped on the side in high-gloss vinyl is our logo: Honey Moons, scrawled in blocky weathered script like it’s been scratched onto the side of a bathroom stall at midnight. The double O’s are crescent moons, one waxing, one waning, both slivered sharp like fangs.
My smile grows, turning real.
Chase leans back against the rear, one hand in his pocket as he scrolls through his phone.
He doesn’t look up when I approach, and I don’t expect him to.
I’ve been distant over the past two weeks, keeping him at arm’s length.
Our discussions have been strictly music-related as we focus on the tour, the songs, and the whirlwind journey ahead.
The truth is, I can hardly look at him.
Because, despite everything, Alex’s words echo, stubborn and sharp.
You’ll break him too.
The bruise on my wrist has faded, but inside I’m still black-and-blue. It doesn’t matter that I left. Doesn’t matter that I knew I had to, knew it was right. Because another part of me keeps whispering that he wasn’t wrong. That I ruined him.
That I’ll ruin Chase too.
So needy. So clingy. You turned me into this.
That kiss should’ve felt like freedom. Instead, it feels like proof. Proof that I’m selfish. Reckless. Unfaithful.
Proof that Alex was right.
Clearing my throat, I turn to glance at my brother, shaking off the misery. “This is incredible.”
“Shit yeah, it is,” he beams, grin giddy. “Our little marketing guru and merch extraordinaire is well on her way to adding ‘graphic designer’ to her resume.” Tag slings a long arm around Kenna, squishing her against his tall frame.
She scoffs, peeling herself away. But her cheeks flush a little. “I’m a vision girl. I see it. I do it. It wasn’t hard.”
“What would we do without you?” I stalk over to her, gratitude lacing my tone.
“Well, you’re about to find out. I won’t be able to swing the tour.”
I freeze. “Wait, what? I thought it was a done deal.”
“It was…until my sister decided to give birth six weeks early. I’m flying out to Santa Barbara the day you leave to meet my new niece.”
Despite my disappointment, I can’t be mad about that. She has a life outside of all this, filled with people who need her just as much as I do. Sometimes I forget that…how lucky I am she’s chosen to be in my corner at all. “Wow. That’s amazing. Congrats to Leila.”
“She named her Ribbon. What the hell kind of name is that?” She scowls, horrified.
“And what about the nicknames? Ribs? Ribeye? Bonbon? I can’t.
” Sighing, Kenna digs the toe of her sneaker into a divot.
“Anyway, I’m sorry I won’t be there, but I’m only a text or phone call away.
I’ll be keeping tabs. And when you really hit the big time, I’ll be in the front row, singing every word to every song. ”
My eyes mist. “I know you will.”
As I lean in for a hug, Kenna jerks away, waving a hand in front of her face. “Jesus. You smell like my mother when she was trying to hide her month-long affair with the furnace repair guy.”
My nose wrinkles as I sniff myself. Yikes. “Sorry. I may have gone a little overboard on the perfume. I’ll go hop in the shower.”
Stepping away, I survey the van one more time, allowing the gloom to settle into a warm glow. Two more days, and everything is going to change.
I’m trekking back into the house, nearly halfway out of my shirt, when Chase comes up behind me and clears his throat.
I squeak in surprise, shoving my arm back through the sleeve.
“Oh, jeez. Hey. I’m shower-bound.” I attempt to tame my hair, but it’s basically a hunk of solid concrete at this point.
He presses a shoulder against the wall, drinking me in. “Can we talk first?”
My chest tightens, the gloom rushing back to the surface. “Talk? About what?”
A look.
“Everything is fine, Chase. I’m just acclimating. Sorry if I’ve been distant.” I swallow, my heart skipping a beat. “I promise we’re good.”
“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
“When do I ever sleep?” I pop a shoulder, chuckling lightly. “I’m used to it. Besides, I told you before, I’m not used to sleeping alone. All part of the acclimation.”
“Annie…” He lifts up from the wall, and it looks like he hasn’t slept much either. “I don’t want there to be a wedge between us on the tour. We should talk about it.”
It.
The kiss.
He wants to talk about it. Communicate like healthy, high-functioning humans.
That’s fair.
But talking about it makes it real. Gives it fire, life, a heartbeat. And I can’t have any more teeth chewing through me.
“Um, yeah. I get it. I’m just not sure what we can really say about it…” I drag my lip between my teeth. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I never said you were mad,” he says. “But you’re hurting. In pain. And I’m a part of that.”
“No. This is on me.”
“Annie, that’s my point. It shouldn’t all be on you.” Chase takes a slow step toward me, cautious and careful. “I can’t change anything. But I’m here. I can help.”
Emotion bubbles behind my eyes.
I can’t blame him for feeling confused, shunned. I’m finally single. And I’m acting as if I felt nothing when his body pressed into me and his tongue wielded poetry against my lips.
“Chase,” I breathe, meeting his gaze. “I just need a little time. To heal. To grieve.”
He studies me for a while, his throat rolling. “Right. Okay.”
I force my eyes to brighten, to override the blanket of trapped tears. “Thank you for trying to help.”
Looking down at the floor, he nods.
“You’re going to kill it out there. I feel it.” I step toward him, taking his hand in mine. “The man who strums stars.”
He gives my palm a squeeze before loosening his grip. As he opens his mouth to reply, he blinks at me several times, then lowers his head with a noticeable wince.
I frown. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m—” He hisses on a sharp exhale, rubbing the side of his head with the heel of his hand.
“Chase…”
“I’m okay. Sorry. Just a headache.” Two fingers gently massage his temple as he looks back up, eyes wearier. He shakes it off. “Go shower. I’ll be in the van.”
“Are you sure—”
He spins away, heading out the front door and disappearing into the autumn sunshine.