Chapter 42 Mallory’s Call
Mallory's Call
Mallory hesitated, her thumb hovering over Chase’s name for far too long before finally pressing call.
She wasn’t sure what she expected.
For him to answer? For him to ignore it? For her to chicken out at the last second and pretend like this wasn’t the most important call she had made in a long, long time?
But when the line rang once, then twice, and she heard his voice on the other end—deep, rough, tired—it hit her like a freight train.
"Mallory?" He sounded—neutral.
Not relieved. Not angry.
Just existing.
And God, that was somehow worse than if he had been furious.
“Hey—Chase,” she said softly, shifting on the couch, glancing toward the hallway where Savannah’s door remained shut—silent, unmoving—a quiet reminder of how much she had disappeared into herself.
She didn’t respond when Mallory knocked. Didn’t respond when she sat beside her, trying to coax anything out of her.
She was just—gone.
Chase exhaled after a beat. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social call.”
Mallory let out a weak laugh. “That obvious?”
“Yeah.” His voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm, either. Just there.
Like he was waiting. Like he was bracing for whatever the hell she was about to throw at him.
“Go ahead, Mal.” His voice dropped lower, quieter. "Say what you need to say."
She hesitated.
Because now that she had him on the line, she wasn’t sure where to start.
There was too much to say.
Too much to fix.
So she went with the only thing that mattered.
“She’s miserable.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, before she could soften them, before she could find a way to make it hurt less. “She won’t say it, but I see it. Every day. She doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep—hell, she barely even talks to me anymore. She’s not okay, Chase.”
Silence.
A long, drawn-out pause where Mallory swore she could hear the sound of his breathing on the other end of the line.
And then—
"You want to know something, Mallory?" His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “I’ve just started picking up the pieces.”
Her stomach twisted.
“Chase—” She plead.
"She broke me." Chase admitted.
His words were quiet, but they held everything. And for the first time since Savannah had left, Mallory felt the full weight of what had happened.
Chase loved her. Loved her so deeply that when she walked away, she didn’t just leave him behind—she left him in ruins.
"I know she’s hurting," Chase admitted after a long pause. "I don’t doubt that at all. But, Mallory, you have to see my side of this, too. I begged her to stay. I asked—And she still walked away."
Mallory inhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Because he was right. Savannah left.
She had a choice, and she made it. And now, she was drowning in the consequences.
"I get it," she whispered, voice tight. "I do. But, Chase, if she called you—if she said she wanted to come back—"
"I’d answer." His voice was steady.
No hesitation. No doubt.
Mallory’s heart leapt. For the first time in weeks, she felt a tiny, fragile sliver of hope—
But before she could respond—before she could hold onto that lifeline—
A voice.
A woman’s voice.
Soft. Muffled. But there.
Mallory’s stomach dropped.
It was quick—just a few words, barely audible—but it was enough.
Enough to tell her Chase wasn’t alone.
Enough to tell her Savannah had waited too long.
She heard Chase shift, his voice slightly muffled as he spoke to whoever was in the room with him.
Mallory clenched her jaw, trying to breathe through the tightness in her chest.
The phone rustled again, and then—
“You still there?”
She forced herself to answer. “Yeah. I just—”
She hesitated.
Did she really want to know? Did she want to ask who she was? Did she want confirmation that Chase was already moving on?
No.
Because she already knew. Already knew what the presence of that woman meant.
Mallory cleared her throat, desperate to end the call. “I should go.”
Chase hesitated. “Mallory—”
“I’m glad you’re doing okay,” she said, voice tight, forced. A lie.
She was about to hang up when his voice stopped her. “Wait.”
Mallory froze, pressing the phone back to her ear. “Yeah?”
Chase exhaled, his voice softer now. “Thank you.”
Mallory frowned, confused. “For what?”
“For reaching out to Jaxon and Sara,” he murmured. “For knowing what I needed, even when I didn't know.”
Her heart twisted. Because as much as Savannah had needed her, as much as she had been by her best friend’s side every step of the way—
Chase had needed someone, too. And somehow, she had been the one to make sure he wasn’t alone.
She let out a quiet breath. “You’d do the same for me.”
A pause.
Then, a soft chuckle. “Yeah. I would.”
For the first time, the tension in Mallory’s chest eased.
Maybe this was how it had to be—for now. Maybe Chase needed to move on.
Maybe Savannah needed to fight for him this time.
And maybe, just maybe—This wasn’t the end.
But just as Mallory was about to say goodbye, Chase’s voice cut through the silence once more.
“Mallory.” He said called out, "One last thing."
She stilled. “Yeah?”
There was a beat of hesitation, like he was debating whether to say what was on his mind.
Then, in a voice so raw, so quiet it almost shattered her, he murmured— “Regardless of what does or doesn’t happen—please make sure she’s okay.”
Mallory’s heart leapt.
Because despite everything—
Despite how shattered Chase was, despite how much Savannah had hurt him—
He still loved her. Still cared. Still wanted to know she was safe.
And in that moment, Mallory saw it.
The kind of love that doesn’t just go away.
She exhaled softly, blinking back the sting in her eyes. “I will,” she promised.
And as she ended the call, she knew—
This wasn’t over.
Not even close.