Chapter 38 Whispered Echoes
Whispered Echoes
The drive to Chase’s house was suffocating in its silence.
The weight of what she was about to do sat heavy in her chest, pressing down like an iron fist, making it impossible to breathe.
She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t find the words.
Couldn’t think past the ache splitting her ribs apart.
Mallory, to her credit, didn’t push. She didn’t tell her to turn the car around, didn’t beg her to change her mind.
But Savannah could feel it, the quiet tension vibrating off her best friend, the barely concealed frustration in the way her hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tight.
Savannah stared out the window, trying to memorize every stretch of road, every flickering streetlamp, every curve and crack and dip in the pavement.
She tried to take it all in, to hold it inside of her, to somehow make it enough.
Because soon, it would be gone. Soon, this place—this town that had only ever been a temporary escape—would be in her past.
But none of it mattered. None of it meant anything. Not without him.
Chase.
The man who had wrecked her. The man she had fallen for in the most unexpected, beautiful, earth-shattering way. The man she was about to leave.
Mallory pulled into his driveway, the familiar crunch of gravel beneath the tires making Savannah’s stomach twist violently.
She clenched her fingers in her lap, nails digging into her palms as her gaze lifted to the house—the house that had once been just another home on the water, just another piece of scenery.
But now?
Now it was him. And he was there.
Sitting on the dock, his back to them, staring at the water like it held the answers he was searching for.
Savannah’s heart lurched.
Mallory cut the engine, but neither of them moved right away. The air inside the car was thick, suffocating, pressing down on Savannah until she couldn’t breathe.
Mallory finally turned, her voice softer now.
"I don’t have to tell you that you’re making the biggest mistake of your life, do I?"
Savannah swallowed hard, blinking against the stinging behind her eyes.
"I already know."
Mallory exhaled, nodding once before slipping out of the car. “I’ll talk to him first.”
Savannah sat frozen as she watched her best friend make her way down the dock, her breath catching in her throat when Mallory dropped down beside Chase, nudging his knee with hers.
He didn’t look at her, didn’t react, but even from here, Savannah could see the tension radiating off of him, could feel the weight of it in the air between them.
Savannah couldn’t hear them.
Didn’t need to.
She knew Mallory. Knew what she was saying. Knew she was telling him that she had tried. Knew she was telling him that Savannah was leaving anyway. And then—Mallory stood.
Looked back once.
Then walked back toward the car.
"It’s your turn," she murmured, her voice laced with something defeated before she slipped into the driver’s seat.
Savannah forced herself to move, forced herself to take the steps that led her toward him, toward an ending she didn’t know how to survive. She heard the way her footsteps hit the dock, soft but hesitant, like a heartbeat slowing before stopping completely.
Chase still didn’t move.
Not until she was right beside him.
Only then did he tilt his head slightly, his gaze heavy when it met hers.
"One last visit, huh?"
Savannah sat beside him, their shoulders nearly touching, and turned toward the horizon. She wished she had the words to make this hurt less. But there were no words. No comfort. No way to fix what she had already broken. “I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”
Chase huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.
"That’s the problem, Monroe. You shouldn’t be leaving at all."
Her chest caved.
She turned her head, finding him already watching her.
"You’re really going," he murmured.
Her breath hitched. “Yeah.”
Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and final. And then, she watched it happen. Watched the spark in him—the spark that had always been there, the one that had drawn her in, held her captive—begin to fade. She watched as he broke.
His hands flexed on his knees, and for a moment, she thought he might reach for her, might pull her into him and beg her to stay.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he turned his gaze back to the water, his voice barely above a whisper.
"If you leave…" He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair, his jaw clenching tight. "I might as well burn this whole fucking place to the ground."
Her breath caught. “Chase—”
“Because, Monroe,” he contin ued, his voice wrecked, “your echoes will haunt me.”
Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Her fingers trembled against the wood beneath her. Chase let out a slow, measured breath, but when he spoke again, his voice was different—softer, quieter, raw in a way that sliced through her.
“I love you.”
It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t even a plea. It was a truth. A simple, undeniable truth that shattered her into a thousand unfixable pieces. A broken sound slipped from her lips, her heart felt like it was being ripped straight from her chest.
“Please don’t do this,” she whispered.
He turned toward her, wrecked and undone. “Why not?”
Because if she stayed, she wouldn’t be able to leave. Because if she left, she would never be whole again.
She forced herself to stand.
Chase followed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his voice softer now, but somehow more desperate. “Don’t go.”
Her throat closed.
She wanted to stay.
God, she wanted to stay.
But the fear—the unknown—it was too much.
So she reached for him instead, cupping his face in her hands, memorizing every sharp angle, every line, every inch of him. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch like it was the last thing keeping him tethered to this earth. Because it was. And then, she kissed him.
Slow.
Lingering.
A kiss that should have been enough.
But it wasn’t.
And when she pulled away, when she took a step back, her heart cracked straight down the middle.
Chase’s eyes were heavy, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he searched her face for something—anything—that might make sense of this.
But there was nothing.
Only heartbreak.
Only goodbye.
He stepped back.
Nodded once.
Then, with a voice so raw it shattered her, he whispered—
"Take care, Monroe."
And then?
He turned.
Walked back toward the dock.
Didn’t look back.
Didn’t stop.
Didn’t fight her anymore.
Savannah stood there, watching him go, breaking.
The second Savannah made it back to the car, she squared her shoulders, inhaled sharply, and forced the burning behind her eyes to stay put. She wouldn’t cry. Not yet. Not now. Not while she still felt the heat of his lips against hers, not while his voice still echoed in her mind, raw and wrecked.
She yanked the car door open and climbed into the passenger seat, gripping her knees with trembling hands. Mallory didn’t say a word. She simply exhaled softly, turning the key in the ignition as the engine rumbled to life.
The tires crunched against the gravel as they pulled away from the dock, from him, from everything. Savannah pressed her lips together, blinking rapidly, willing herself to keep it together.
It wasn’t until they reached the end of the drive that she broke.
Because that’s when she saw it.
The sign.
Whispering Echoes Drive.
The name he had chosen. The name that had always been just a name—until now.
Now, it was them.
Her breath hitched, her fingers clenching into the fabric of her jeans as the first tear slipped down her cheek. And once it started, there was no stopping it.
The dam shattered.
She bit her lip, but the sob tore through her anyway, her body shaking as she crumpled forward, her forehead pressing against her hands.
Mallory glanced over, her own expression tight with pain.
"Oh, sweetheart…" she whispered.
Savannah shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, drowning in it.
She could still feel him.
Still hear him.
Take care, Monroe.
Like she was just someone. Like they hadn’t just loved each other.
At that moment, she knew.
She done this. She had just broken Chase Montgomery.
And she had destroyed herself in the process.