Chapter 41 Distant Echoes
Distant Echoes
Days Ahead
Savannah didn’t know how she made it back to Asheville.
The highway stretched before her, mile after endless mile, but the drive was a blur.
Nothing registered—the cars passing, the road signs, the soft hum of the tires against the pavement.
It all felt distant, unreal, like she was floating somewhere outside of herself, trapped in a reality she didn’t recognize.
Mallory had been silent for most of the trip. For that, Savannah was grateful. She couldn’t talk about it. Not yet. Not when everything inside of her felt raw—like her chest had been split wide open, her heart left bleeding somewhere on Chase’s dock.
But her mind wouldn’t stop.
It kept replaying it.
The way his hands trembled when he held her.
The way his voice cracked when he said, I love you.
The way he whispered, If you leave, I might as well burn this whole place down.
And God, she felt like she was burning.
By the time they reached her apartment, the numbness had turned into something worse.
Regret.
It curled around her ribs, wrapped itself around her throat, squeezed until she could barely breathe. But she held it in. She kept it together—right up until she opened the door, stepped inside, and faced the unbearable, deafening quiet.
Her suitcase thudded to the floor.
Her breath left her in a sharp, broken exhale.
The walls that had once felt safe now felt like a prison. The space that had been hers for years now felt empty.
Because it was missing him.
Mallory hovered in the doorway, watching her carefully, arms crossed. “You okay?”
Savannah let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded so hollow, so unlike herself, that even she barely recognized it.
“No.”
Mallory sighed, stepping forward. “Then why the hell did you leave?”
Savannah squeezed her eyes shut. Because I was scared.
“Of what? Being happy?” Mallory’s voice was sharper now, tinged with frustration.
Savannah swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Of getting hurt,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Of waking up one day and realizing it wasn’t real.”
Mallory let out a slow, deep breath. “Savannah.” She stepped closer, placing her hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at her. “You already hurt. And it was real. It is real.”
Savannah shook her head, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to go back.”
Mallory studied her for a long moment, then let her hands fall away.
“You don’t have to know how.” Her voice was softer now, less frustrated, more pleading. “You just have to want to.”
Savannah did want to.
More than anything.
But how the hell was she supposed to undo what she had done?