Chapter 4 Never, Yet
Never, Yet
Meanwhile, on the backside of Wrightsville, where the sound met the shore in a quiet, undisturbed embrace, Chase Montgomery stepped out of the shower, steam curling around him like a ghost of heat.
He raked a towel over his damp hair, watching his own reflection in the fogged-up mirror.
His face, still sharp and defined, carried the echoes of a man who had lived a little too recklessly in his younger years—late nights, whiskey-soaked promises, and a reputation that had made him both infamous and irresistible.
But tonight wasn’t about that. It wasn’t about chasing another Friday night thrill, another meaningless rendezvous that left his sheets warm but his bed feeling colder than ever by morning.
No, the infamous Friday Night Fling Circuit had lost its appeal.
The start of tourist season meant the bars were about to be filled with out-of-towners looking for a Wrightsville Beach adventure—just as they always were.
And yet, for once, Chase wasn’t interested.
Instead, he planned to head into town early, before the Low-Tide Tavern filled up with summer visitors who wanted nothing more than to hear a Southern drawl whisper something tempting in their ears. He wanted a drink, a little time to breathe before the night took on a life of its own.
He reached for his watch, clasping it around his wrist just as the sound of tires crunching over the gravel driveway reached his ears. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Right on time.
Jaxon Stone.
The two had met back when Chase was just a kid, before his family had picked up and moved to Wrightsville when he was sixteen.
Jaxon had been one of the few friendships that survived the distance, the years, the inevitable shifts that came with growing up.
While Chase had built his empire in coastal consulting, Jaxon had carved out a different kind of success—partner at one of the largest financial firms in the Southeast, a man who handled wealth like an artist worked a canvas.
Now, he lived in Oak Island, close enough that their occasional meetups had turned into something more regular. And though they were in entirely different industries, Jaxon was also Chase’s financial advisor—the one person he trusted to keep his assets in order, his investments thriving.
A sharp knock echoed through the house just before the front door swung open.
“Why would you just walk in?”
The exasperated voice came from behind Jaxon, a playful huff of frustration that made Chase chuckle before he even stepped into the living room.
Sara.
Jaxon’s wife had a way of reigning him in, balancing out his easygoing, sometimes oblivious demeanor.
She was fierce in the best way, the kind of woman who could run an entire event without breaking a sweat and still manage to make you feel like you were the most important person in the room.
Owning a catering business meant she was often too busy to join them on their nights out, but when she did, she made her presence known.
Jaxon held up his hands in mock surrender, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’ve been coming here for years. If he was worried about it, he’d lock the damn door.”
Sara rolled her eyes, stepping into the house behind him. “One day, Chase is going to have some poor girl in here, and you’re going to walk in on something you definitely don’t want to see.”
Chase grinned, leaning against the counter. “Not tonight. I’m keeping things simple.”
Jaxon raised a brow. “Simple? That’s new for you.”
Chase shrugged, grabbing a beer from the fridge and tossing one to Jaxon. “Besides, you know I don't bring them here anyway.”
Sara smirked, crossing her arms. “So, no charming some unsuspecting tourist out of her sundress tonight?”
Chase chuckled, taking a sip of his beer. “Not in the mood.”
Jaxon shook his head. “Well, that’s a first.”
Sara narrowed her eyes at him. “Wait… is this about someone specific?”
Chase didn’t flinch, but he could feel the weight of Sara’s gaze on him. If anyone could read through his bullshit, it was her.
“Not everything is about a woman, Sara.”
She tilted her head. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Jaxon smirked and leaned against the counter. “Well, now I have to know. But first, we’re grabbing dinner before drinks.”
Chase arched a brow. “Since when do we do dinner first?”
“Since we have a sitter and my wife is actually free for once,” Jaxon said, throwing an arm around Sara. “And you’re buying, since you never eat actual meals unless someone forces you to.”
Chase scoffed but didn’t argue. “Fine, but we’re not going anywhere fancy.”
Sara clapped her hands together. “Perfect, because I want some damn good seafood.”
They headed out together, piling into Chase’s truck, the familiarity of their friendship settling in like an old, comfortable habit. The drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation, the kind that didn’t require effort, the kind Chase appreciated more than he let on.
As they pulled into the parking lot, Sara glanced out the window, her eyes scanning the rustic exterior of the Low-Tide Tavern. "This place looks a lot like Tides Rising back in Oak Island," she mused. "Jaxon and I love that place. Feels like home every time we walk in."
Jaxon smirked, nudging her playfully. "That’s because you charm the bartender, Mike into giving us extra hush puppies every time."
Sara shrugged with a grin. "What can I say? People like me."
Chase chuckled, shaking his head as they stepped inside.
By the time they slid into a booth at the seafood joint just off the marina, Chase found himself watching them—Jaxon and Sara—without meaning to.
The way she leaned into him, how he whispered something in her ear that made her laugh.
The way Jaxon rested a hand on her thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Chase took a sip of his whiskey, his gaze flicking away. He didn’t do that. He didn’t bring women to dinner, didn’t have anyone to lean into, didn’t have someone who made him feel like home wasn’t just a place but a person.
Sara caught him staring, her expression softening. “You ever think about it?”
Chase raised a brow. “Think about what?”
She gestured between her and Jaxon. “This. A real thing. Something steady.”
Jaxon smirked. “Be careful, man. She’s matchmaking again.”
Chase chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t do this,” he admitted, gesturing to their easy affection. “Never have.”
Sara studied him for a moment before she smiled knowingly. “Never yet.”
Chase didn’t answer. Because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t so sure.
After a moment of silence, he exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "You know, I've never really said this out loud before... but I think I’ve always wanted what you two have. Not the wild nights or the endless options—just someone who gets me. Someone to come home to."
Sara leaned in, her expression soft but knowing. "And you think that’s not possible for you?"
Chase hesitated. "I don’t know. Maybe I’ve played this role for so long that I don’t even know how to be something else."
Sara shook her head with a small smile. "You and Jaxon are more alike than you think. He used to say the same thing before we got together. Thought he wasn’t built for all of this.
Turns out, he was wrong." She squeezed Jaxon's hand under the table before looking back at Chase. "Maybe you're wrong, too."
Chase let her words settle, staring into his glass as if it held the answers he wasn’t ready to face. Because deep down, he knew—she might just be right.
He let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. "Damnit Jaxon, I know you can't get anything by this woman. If she can read me and see through my bullshit, I can only imagine how it is with you."