Chapter 58 Annalise
Annalise
By the second night, I finally charge my phone and text my brother back.
Tag: Are you good? Did you make it?
Tag: You better be alive.
Tag: I swear to god, if you’re dead and didn’t tell me…
Tag: Sis. Answer me. Proof of life or I’m driving over there myself.
Tag: In the car. Bringing Kenna. Last chance before we show up with flashlights, a trunk full of houseplants, and whatever the hell she’s been manifesting this week.
I glance at the time stamp on the last message and my anxiety loosens when I see it was sent less than an hour ago. He was either bluffing or he didn’t make it far.
Me: Sorry. I’m here. I’m alive. You don’t need to come.
Me: It’s bad, Tag. I’ll tell you everything soon. But he needs me, so I might stay for a few weeks until we figure out a long-term plan.
Me: PS: I’m still mad at you.
His bubbles dance to life.
Tag: Jesus. Don’t ever ghost me again when you’re nearly 1000 miles away and only got your driver’s license two minutes ago.
Tag: Also, define bad…
Something in my throat sticks.
I peer over at the man beside me, fast asleep with an arm draped over his eyes.
Then I send a quick response and discard my phone.
Me: He’s sick. Tumor. Vision loss. Talk more soon.
The cell pings beside me, but I let it be for now.
Moonlight blankets the room in a faint pearly glow, highlighting chalky skin and a mop of overgrown light-brown hair.
He’s still muscled and toned, relying on weight training and exercise to pass the time.
In the corner of the bedroom, I spot a small rack of free weights, a yoga mat rolled tight, and a half-empty container of pre-workout powder tucked beside a scuffed kettlebell.
Chase moves when Toaster jumps on the bed and splays his paws over his thigh. One knee lifts, his arm falling away from his face as he stretches, stirring back to life.
I crawl toward him, brushing thick bangs from his eyes. “Hey,” I whisper.
He blinks a few times. Tries to find my face.
I can’t tell how much he sees, but it’s enough to have him pulling me into his arms and sprawling me across his chest as he exhales a long breath of relief.
Warmth. Heaven. Home.
Snuggling deeper, I bury my nose against his neck and hold him tight.
“Hey,” he says back.
I shiver when he inhales my scent, his chest heaving underneath me. “It’s after ten. You fell asleep early.”
“Mm.” He extends both legs, one winding between mine. “How bored were you?”
A smile flickers. “Not bored. I went through your kitchen trying to find something to cook. It was bleak.”
“That’s a word for it.”
“Have you been living off pantry staples for months?” I poke my head up, finding his eyes. “How are you getting groceries?”
He drags his fingers through my tangle of hair. “I stocked up when I got here. My parents drive in once a month with premade meals and frozen casseroles.”
“What was the next step going to be? Your long-term plan?” I wonder, tracing designs on his chest. “You can’t live like this forever. Alone. It’s not safe.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting my vision to go this fast. Figured I’d be set for a while.”
“God, Chase…” I exhale deeply, pressing my temple to his collarbone. “Will you consider coming home with me? Letting me take care of you?”
I swallow, waiting, terrified of what he’ll say.
He stiffens. Goes silent for several beats. “I don’t want to be a burden, Annie.”
My cheeks heat. I prop myself up, staring down at him, wishing he could see the pleading in my eyes. “Stop saying that. I love you. I will literally do anything for you. Whatever it takes.”
His muscles draw tight as he holds back all the things he wants to say.
No.
I don’t want that for you.
You deserve to live a carefree life.
Before he second-guesses himself and spews words I refuse to hear, I roll off him and bring the covers up to his chin. “Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
He twists toward me, reaching for my face until he finds the lock of pale hair striped across my jaw. He tucks it behind my ear. “Promise?”
Leaning in, I kiss him on the cheek. “Maybe.”
A smile crests, lingering on his lips as he dozes back off.
He knows it’s a yes.
***
I spend the next afternoon in town, stocking up on clothes, groceries, and basic necessities, the volume on my phone turned all the way up in case Chase texts or calls.
An hour of my day is spent at a rustic boutique in Sevierville.
It’s narrow and creaky-floored, nestled between a fudge store and a shop that exclusively sells black bear souvenirs.
Inside, it smells like cedarwood and lavender.
Wind chimes dangle from the ceiling, catching stray drafts, and every wall is lined with racks of clothes in every shade imaginable.
The owner, a woman with fire-red hair and a rhinestone jacket, helps me pick out the loudest outfits in the store: bright oranges, sunflower yellows, rich teals, and bold floral prints.
“I’m trying to be easier to see,” I tell her with a half smile as I hold up a fuchsia sundress patterned in giant hibiscus flowers.
She grins. “Then you’re right on track, sweetheart.”
I leave with two shopping bags full of clothes I never would’ve picked six months ago.
But this isn’t about me anymore. It’s about making sure Chase can still see me in whatever fragments of the world are still left.
Around 3:00 p.m. I burst through the front door, out of breath, colorful fabrics and random fruits spilling out of bags as I double over in the living room. “There was…a bear…”
Chase blinks at me from the couch, setting his guitar aside. “I get a lot of those.”
“Well, I was holding a bag of peaches and wearing chartreuse. I figured I had a fifty-fifty shot of being mistaken for a snack or a threat.”
He tilts his head. “What did it do?”
I drag in a breath. “Made eye contact. Judged me. Wandered off. Honestly, it handled things better than I did.”
One corner of his mouth twitches, but he holds it back.
“I also may have left an entire reusable bag of groceries in the driveway,” I add, toeing off my shoes. “So if we’re low on rice, blame the dubious and terrifying Tennessee wildlife.”
Now he smirks. “I knew you were a closet runner.”
“I’m not. But adrenaline plus platform sandals will surprise you.” I finally drop the bags, peeling off my jacket and kicking a pineapple upright. “Also, we’re having stir-fry. Unless the bear comes back for the bok choy.”
He chuckles under his breath.
And just like that, for the first time in eight joyless months, I hear it.
That sound.
The one I was afraid I’d never hear again.
Chase, laughing.
It steals my breath. Whatever breath the bear didn’t take.
I try to shake off the tendrils of emotion, the awestruck glee.
Try to play it cool. Clearing my throat, I pull out blouses and dresses, all vivid, all multicolored, all for him.
“On the bright side, I’m now the proud owner of twelve outfits that can be seen from space.
” I move toward him, harnessing a smile as I hold them up, draping them across my frame.
“What do you think? This one has…cacti wearing sunglasses on it…” I squint at the print.
“Okay, that’s distinctive. Definitely a vibe. Kenna will be impressed.”
I cringe at my rambling.
Wrinkling my nose, I lift my gaze to Chase as he stares at me. He looks glassy-eyed. A little stunned.
My heart twists. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I…” He swallows, scooting closer to the edge as he studies the ridiculous shirt, blinking repeatedly. “You bought those for me?”
I fold in my lips, nodding slowly. “I mean, they’re for me. Unless you’re really bored and want to have a dress-off à la Cameron and Christina in The Sweetest Thing.”
Still rambling.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
Chase’s smile flickers back to life, his shoulders slackening.
I chew my lip, stepping toward him. “You said you could see the purple in my hair. So I just thought maybe you could see—”
The moment I’m close enough, he reaches for me, pulling me forward by my belt loop until I’m caged between his denim-clad thighs. A gasp falls out. My hands brace against his shoulders, fingers curling into heat and muscle.
I melt when he grazes his fingertips up the backs of my thighs, his forehead dropping to my abdomen, warm breath seeping through the thin fabric of my blouse. Sagging, I sink into him, trailing my hands up his neck until they land in waves of silken hair.
My eyelids flutter at the contact. Intimate. Habitual.
Eight lonely months filter through my mind of tearstained pillows, empty beds, and stiff couches. Absence. Something vital severed at the quick.
But now he’s here, in my arms, breathing and warm, his cheek pressed to my stomach as his hands tighten around my thighs, bringing me closer.
Tingles light me up from toes to top. A need that never died.
I lick my lips, mouth dryer than a decade-old tumbleweed, and a question slips out, unprecedented. “Have you been with anyone else?”
He falters, stilling at the question. Then his face lifts, brows bent like he must not have heard me correctly. “What?”
Embarrassment trickles through me, laced with stupidity. “Sorry…I don’t know why I asked that.”
“No,” he says quickly. “God. No. Only you.”
Tears puddle in my eyes. “Okay.”
“Annie…” Chase drags his hands up my legs, my butt, the small of my back. “It’s only been you. For years. There’s no one else. It’s you in every thought, every quiet moment, every dream that isn’t dark and terrifying. Just you. Don’t ever question that.”
My breath hitches. “Me too.”
He pulls me closer until I’m half leaning over him, and his mouth trails up, hovering just below the space between my breasts. My grip on his hair tightens, and I can’t help but wonder what comes next.
We haven’t kissed yet.
We’ve held, and we’ve touched, and we’ve curled into U-shapes, tangling together until we don’t know where the other one begins. But we haven’t kissed.