Chapter 16
When Aria arrived home, she slipped past the front door, noticing the hollow feeling that now accompanied her return to a place that had been her haven for so long.
The conversation at the lake still echoed in her mind like a song that refused to fade out. Every word Will had spoken replayed itself in fragments as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
I think Chase is trying to get back to you.
She leaned her head briefly against the door, closing her eyes.
For five years, she had dreamed of hearing something like that.
Five years imagining that somehow the man she loved would find his way back to her.
But the truth she had finally spoken out loud on that dock sat like a stone in her chest.
Even if Chase remembered everything tomorrow...
He wouldn't be the same man.
The Chase, who left her standing in the doorway of this very house, had been laughing when he kissed her forehead. He had been bright-eyed and fearless, full of that wild, full-throttle energy that made everyone around him feel like life was an adventure waiting to happen.
That man had believed the world was conquerable.
The man sitting on that dock today had survived torture.
Isolation.
War.
Loss of identity.
Even if the memories came back...
That kind of trauma changed a person.
Would she still love him?
Yes.
Without hesitation.
But the man who came home would never again be the same man who left.
Accepting that truth had felt like her heart was shattering inside her chest.
She pushed away from the door slowly.
Her bare feet padded across the hallway as she walked toward the bedroom.
The yellow sundress slipped down her shoulders without much thought. She didn't even bother taking it all the way into the bedroom. The soft fabric fell to the floor in the hallway behind her.
She stood there for a moment in nothing but her underwear, staring at the open closet.
Rows of clothes.
Half of them hers.
Half of them still his.
She reached for one of Chase's old t-shirts without thinking.
It was soft with age, worn thin in places from years of washing. The dark fabric hung loosely over her frame when she pulled it over her head, falling almost to the middle of her thighs.
She inhaled faintly.
The scent of detergent clung to the cotton now instead of him.
But the memory of his warmth still lived in the fabric.
She pushed the closet door closed gently and walked down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The house was quiet again.
Too quiet.
The refrigerator hummed softly when she opened it.
There, pushed toward the back of the middle shelf, sat the bottle.
The wine.
Her fingers curled slowly around the neck of the bottle as she pulled it free.
She had bought it the week Chase deployed.
She could still remember standing in the store, reading the label, smiling to herself because it had sounded fancy and romantic.
She had imagined opening it the night he came home.
Maybe cooking dinner.
Maybe sitting on the porch afterward while they watched the sun go down.
Instead, the bottle had sat untouched in the back of the refrigerator for five years.
Waiting.
She set it on the counter.
The cork slid free with a soft pop.
Aria grabbed a wine glass at first.
Then stopped.
A small laugh escaped her.
What was the point?
She set the glass back down and lifted the bottle directly to her lips instead, taking a slow swallow.
The wine was smooth.
Warm.
Stronger than she expected.
She exhaled softly as the warmth spread through her chest.
Then she crossed the kitchen toward the wall beside the refrigerator.
Mounted there was the small digital screen Chase had installed two years before he deployed.
He had called it their "house brain."
It controlled the music, the lights, and the thermostat.
Aria reached out and tapped the screen.
The music library appeared.
Her fingers hovered for a moment.
Then she selected the song.
The soft guitar notes drifted through the kitchen speakers almost immediately.
Juliana Cole's voice followed gently behind the melody.
The house is quiet, but my mind won't sleep,
Your shadow's dancing in the corners of my dreams.
Aria closed her eyes for a second as the lyrics washed over her.
God.
Of all the songs.
This one had always been theirs.
She took another drink from the bottle.
Moonlight spilling on the floorboards, soft and wide...
I want to pull you close, nowhere left to hide.
Her feet moved almost without her realizing it.
One slow step.
Then another.
She set the bottle down on the counter and let the music pull her into motion.
The kitchen lights glowed softly above her as she began to sway.
Memories flooded in with every note.
Chase's hands on her waist.
The way he would spin her across this exact floor until she was laughing so hard she couldn't breathe.
The way he would pull her back against his chest afterward, resting his chin on her shoulder.
The chorus rose.
Let me hold you in the kitchen lights,
Spin you slow while the world's out of sight.
Her arms wrapped around herself as she turned slowly across the kitchen floor.
No one's here but you and me tonight,
A little love that keeps us up 'til the morning light.
Tears slipped down her cheeks without her realizing it.
She kept moving.
One slow turn.
Another.
She could almost feel his hands guiding her.
Almost hear his laugh.
The memory was so vivid it hurt.
The clock ticks slow, but my heart races fast,
Every whispered laugh, I wish it could last.
Her feet carried her across the floor the same way they had a hundred times before.
Past the counter.
Past the sink.
Back toward the refrigerator.
She grabbed the bottle again, taking another long sip before spinning once more.
Your hands on my waist, the night wraps us tight...
Her breath caught.
Because for a moment...
For one fragile heartbeat...
It almost felt like he was still there.
Like if she turned quickly enough, she would see him standing behind her.
Tall.
Grinning.
Waiting to pull her back into his arms.
Instead, she was alone.
Dancing in a kitchen that held nothing but ghosts.
The music softened as it reached the bridge.
The night hums soft, like a gentle lullaby,
But I don't want to sleep, I just want to feel you by my side.
Aria slowed, her movements turning gentle now.
More sway than dance.
More memory than motion.
She lifted the bottle again.
Took another drink.
And let the music carry her through the quiet kitchen.
Forget the world, the troubles, the fights...
Just you, me, and the magic of these kitchen lights.
Her voice broke into a soft whisper as she sang the last line quietly along with the music.
And for a little while...
She let herself pretend he was still dancing with her.
The music didn't stop when the chorus faded.
The guitar softened into the background as the final lines repeated gently through the speakers, the melody lingering in the air like the last warmth of a fading sunset.
Aria stood in the middle of the kitchen, the oversized t-shirt brushing against her thighs as she swayed slowly in place.
The wine bottle hung loosely in her hand.
The kitchen lights glowed warm above her, casting soft shadows across the floor.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Breathing.
Letting the quiet wrap around her.
Then the song restarted.
The opening chords filled the room again.
She laughed softly under her breath.
"Of course," she murmured.
Chase had set the house system years ago so their favorite songs looped automatically when they played it.
At the time, he had claimed it was because he didn't want the music to stop if the fun had just started.
Now the loop felt almost cruel.
The house is quiet, but my mind won't sleep...
Aria lifted the bottle again and took another drink.
The wine cooled her throat as it slid down.
Her eyes drifted slowly across the kitchen.
Nothing had changed.
The same cabinets.
The same wooden table.
The same little scratch in the counter from the time Chase had tried to open a bottle of beer with the edge of a knife like an idiot and nearly stabbed the countertop.
She smiled faintly at the memory.
God, he had been fun.
Full of passion.
So full of life it had practically spilled out of him.
Her body moved again without thought, her feet carrying her slowly across the kitchen floor as the music played.
Spin you slow while the world's out of sight...
She turned gently, her hand sliding across the edge of the counter as she moved.
It had been their habit.
Late nights.
Long after dinner was finished.
Sometimes, after a glass or two of wine or beer.
Sometimes, after a long day, neither of them had the energy to do anything but hold each other.
Chase would always reach for her.
Always.
"Come here," he would say with that crooked grin.
Then he'd pull her into the middle of the kitchen.
She'd protest.
Pretend to resist.
And then they'd end up laughing as he spun her across the floor anyway.
A tear slipped down her cheek again.
She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Her reflection caught in the dark window above the sink.
Bare legs.
His t-shirt hanging loosely over her frame.
Hair slightly messy from the breeze at the lake.
Eyes red from crying.
She looked... tired.
Maybe a little broken.
Her thoughts drifted back to the dock.
To Will's voice.
I think Chase is trying to get back to you.
She closed her eyes briefly.
The memory of his expression lingered in her mind.
The confusion.
The guilt.
The desperation.
He had looked like a man standing in the middle of two different lives, unsure which one he belonged to.
And the worst part?
She understood that feeling better than anyone.
Her feet carried her toward the refrigerator again.
She leaned back against it and lifted the wine bottle to her lips.
Another swallow.
Then another.
The music wrapped around her like a memory.
Your hands on my waist, the night wraps us tight...
Her chest tightened.
Her body reacted before her mind could stop it.
She reached out behind her instinctively.
Like she expected someone to be there.
Like Chase might suddenly step into the kitchen and slide his arms around her from behind.
Her fingers touched the cool industrial metal of her Smeg refrigerator.
The one that she had practically begged Chase to buy her.
She laughed quietly at herself.
"Get it together, Aria."
The house remained silent.
The music continued.
She pushed away from the refrigerator again and moved back toward the center of the kitchen.
Her feet slid softly across the floor.
She turned slowly.
One hand lifted as though someone else might take it.
For just a second, she allowed herself the illusion.
Chase's hand in hers.
His warmth.
The steady pressure of his palm guiding her.
Her body remembered every step.
Every spin.
The way he would dip her suddenly just to hear her laugh.
The way he would pull her close afterward, pressing his forehead against hers while the music faded.
Another tear slipped free.
She didn't bother wiping this one away.
Instead, she let it fall.
Because tonight...
Tonight, she wasn't pretending to be strong.
She wasn't pretending to have all the answers.
Tonight, she was just a woman dancing alone in the kitchen with the ghost of the man she loved.
The bridge of the song returned again.
The night hums soft, like a gentle lullaby...
Her movements slowed.
Her body relaxing into the rhythm.
Her eyes drifted toward the hallway.
The yellow sundress still lay where she had dropped it.
A splash of color against the hardwood floor.
A reminder of the moment on the hill.
The moment Will had turned and seen her.
The look on his face.
The way all the color had drained from his skin.
Her heart squeezed painfully.
He had felt something.
Something strong enough to shake him.
Something that belonged to Chase.
But what did that mean?
Would the memories ever come back fully?
Or would he spend the rest of his life caught between two versions of himself?
And if they did come back...
Would he still choose Emily?
The thought made her chest tighten again.
She lifted the bottle once more and took another drink.
The wine was beginning to make her warm.
Loose.
The music faded again.
The final chorus repeating softly.
Let me hold you in the kitchen lights...
She closed her eyes.
Just you, me, and the magic of these kitchen lights.
The last note lingered in the air.
Then silence returned.
Aria stood in the middle of the kitchen, breathing slowly.
Her chest rose and fell.
Her feet were still.
The house hummed softly around her.
Finally, she whispered something into the quiet room.
"I miss you."
Her voice barely carried beyond the walls.
And for the first time in five years...
The words didn't feel like a prayer.
They felt like a goodbye she was finally preparing herself to say.