Chapter 40 Tides Turning
Tides Turning
Chase barely remembered the drive back from Low-Tide.
The road was a blur, streetlights flashing by in streaks of yellow and white, the hum of the engine nothing but a distant noise against the chaos in his head.
He had been lost in his own fucking mind.
Still seeing Savannah in every shadow.
Still hearing her laughter in the spaces between conversations that no longer interested him.
The world had kept spinning. People kept drinking, laughing, living.
But for him?
Time had fucking stopped.
Jaxon pulled the truck into Chase’s driveway, the tires crunching against the gravel, the engine rumbling low before he cut it off.
Neither of them moved at first. The silence was thick, heavy, pressing against Chase’s chest like a goddamn vice.
He was still staring out at the water, watching the tide roll against the dock, feeling that familiar ache in his chest settle even deeper.
He couldn’t escape it.
Not here.
Not anywhere.
Savannah was everywhere and nowhere, haunting him in a way that left him raw, hollow, shattered from the inside out.
Sara, who had been uncharacteristically quiet most of the night, finally sighed and turned in her seat. “Alright, enough of this brooding bullshit. Let’s go.”
Chase shot her a look, his jaw tightening, but Jaxon was already pushing his door open, stepping out like he knew there was no arguing.
Chase had never fought a losing battle with Sara Stone.
He sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.
So, he climbed out, following them both down toward the dock, the moon hanging heavy in the sky, reflecting off the water like liquid silver.
The air was thick with salt and regret, and Chase hated how much it reminded him of her.
Sara plopped down on one of the old wooden chairs, tucking her legs underneath her, the glow of the dock light casting soft shadows across her face.
Jaxon leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his gaze sharp, unreadable, watching Chase with that same knowing look he had been giving him all fucking night.
Chase ran a hand down his face, dragging it over the stubble on his jaw.
“If you’re here to give me some ‘everything happens for a reason’ bullshit, I’m gonna need you to save it,” he muttered.
Jaxon smirked. “Oh, trust me. That is not why I’m here.”
Chase exhaled sharply, dropping down onto the edge of the dock, letting his legs dangle over the water. The wood beneath him was worn, sun-bleached from years of salt air and storms.
Just like him.
Worn down. Weathered. Fucking tired.
Sara tilted her head, her voice softer now. “Mallory told me everything, Chase.”
His stomach twisted.
He already knew that. Knew Mallory had been the one to drag Jaxon and Sara into this mess.
But hearing it out loud still stung.
“She’s struggling too, you know,” Sara continued.
Chase’s jaw clenched.
“She’s still gone, though, isn’t she?” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he hated admitting.
Sara sighed. “Yeah. But that doesn’t mean she wanted to leave.”
Chase let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
“That doesn’t change a damn thing, Sara.”
Jaxon, who had been quiet up until now, let out a slow breath. “Yeah, it does.”
Chase scoffed, but Jaxon didn’t let him spiral. Instead, he walked over, dropped down next to him, his voice steady, unwavering.
“You think I don’t know what this feels like?” Jaxon asked, his tone softer now. “That I don’t know what it’s like to wake up every fucking morning and feel like you’re missing the best part of yourself?”
Chase didn’t answer.
Because he knew.
Everyone knew what Jaxon and Sara had been through.
Sara had left once. Had walked away from him. And Jaxon had been just as wrecked as Chase was now.
The only difference?
Sara had come back.
“I was you once,” Jaxon continued. “I sat right here, in this same damn spot, feeling like I’d never fucking breathe again without her.”
Sara’s expression softened as she leaned forward. “And you were the one who pulled him out of it, Chase.”
Chase swallowed hard. He remembered that time too well. Remembered dragging Jaxon’s ass out of bars. Remembered watching him fall apart.
He had been the one to remind Jaxon that Sara was still out there.
That it wasn’t over.
And now?
Now, Jaxon was trying to do the same for him.
Chase let out a slow exhale, staring at the water. “Doesn’t feel like she’s coming back,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jaxon was quiet for a long moment. “Neither did Sara.”
Chase turned his head, his brows furrowing. “And yet, here she is.”
Sara grinned, resting her chin on her knee. “What can I say? Jaxon is persistent.”
Jaxon smirked. “You’re damn right.”
Chase huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “That was different.”
Jaxon lifted a brow. “Was it?”
Chase didn’t answer.
Because the truth?
It wasn’t different at all. It was the same. And the fact that Jaxon knew exactly how this felt made Chase want to crawl out of his own fucking skin.
Because what if this really wasn’t over? What if Savannah was just as wrecked as he was? What if she was sitting somewhere in Asheville, staring at her phone, aching to call him?
Chase sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
Sara sat forward, her expression softer now. “I know it hurts, Chase. And I know there’s nothing anyone can say right now that’s gonna make it hurt any less.”
She reached over, squeezing his arm.
“But if I know Savannah—if I know you—this isn’t how your story ends.”
Chase swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He wanted to believe that.
God, he wanted to believe that so fucking bad.
But right now?
All he had was silence.
And that silence was fucking killing him.
Sara smirked, nudging his arm. “Besides, if your story really was over, you would’ve gone home with Jenna tonight.”
Chase laughed.
An actual, real, fucking laugh.
Jaxon grinned. “There he is.”
Sara smirked. “I was starting to think you died, but nope. Just depressed as hell. Love that for you.”
Chase chuckled, shaking his head, feeling lighter than he had in days.
He looked between them, the two people who had been through this exact thing.
The two people who came out the other side.
And for the first time since Savannah left—
He let himself hope.
Even if just a little. Even if it hurt.
He could feel the tide turning.
Maybe her echoes didn’t have to haunt him forever.
Maybe…
Just maybe—
He would get past this.