Chapter 25
It's Saturday afternoon when she finally says it.
They're standing in the kitchen, sunlight cutting through the window, catching dust that is floating in the air.
"I have to head back today."
Chase looks up from where he's leaning against the counter.
"How come?"
"Work starts Monday."
Simple. Practical.
Like this was always the plan.
Something in his chest tightens.
"Oh."
A beat.
"I can leave if you need more time alone," he adds quickly. "I don't want you to feel like you have to rush off because of me."
Aria shakes her head.
"No, it was always the plan to be going back today."
Another small pause.
"You can ride back with me if you don't want to drive the rental."
The words surprise even her a little.
Chase blinks.
"Yeah?"
She nods once.
"But only if we're clear on something."
There it is again.
The boundary.
"We are friends," she says. "Nothing more."
His jaw tightens just slightly, but he doesn't argue.
"...Okay."
"And you'd need to respect that."
"I said okay, Aria."
His reply while not sharp, nor defensive.
Came off ... aggravated.
And somehow that makes it harder for her.
She nods.
"Alright then."
They packed up in silence.
The drive was quiet.
The kind of quiet that makes one feel heavy.
Fields stretch out on either side of the road, the sky slowly shifting toward evening.
Aria drives.
Chase watches the road.
Watches her.
And somewhere along the way...
He notices it.
That small crease between her brows.
The one that forms when she's thinking too hard.
Or holding something in.
It hits him out of nowhere.
Familiar.
Like a memory just out of reach.
"You still do that little thing," he says suddenly.
Aria glances at him briefly.
"What little thing?"
"That little..." he gestures vaguely toward his own face, "...frown line thing."
She exhales lightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yeah, you do."
There's something almost soft in his voice now.
"You get it when something's bothering you."
Her grip tightens on the wheel.
"It's nothing."
"Aria..."
"It's nothing, Chase. Please just let it go."
That shuts his argument down.
They stop for gas just as the sun starts dipping lower.
The station is quiet. Barely anyone around.
Chase leans against the car while she fills the tank.
Watches her.
Waits.
"You always shut down when something matters," he says after a moment.
She doesn't look at him.
"I'm not shutting down."
"You are."
Still calm.
Still gentle.
"That crease in your forehead? That's not nothing."
She replaces the nozzle a little harder than necessary.
"It's just been a long week."
He steps closer.
"That's not it."
She turns to face him now, something guarded flashing across her expression.
"Why are you pushing this?"
"Because talking is how people fix things."
Her lips press together.
"Not everything needs to be fixed right now."
"Or you just don't want to say it."
That hits.
She looks away first.
"Drop it, Chase."
And he does.
For now.
They're back on the road within minutes.
The sky deepens into gold, then orange, then something softer.
Neither of them speaks.
But the silence isn't empty anymore.
It's filled with unsaid words and irritation.
They find the diner just off the highway.
Small. Warm. Lights glowing against the darkening sky.
A sign out front flickers slightly.
Mia Mo's Italian.
"Want to stop?" Chase asks.
Aria hesitates.
Then nods.
"Yeah. I could eat."
The inside smells like garlic and fresh bread.
But it's the back that draws them.
A small deck overlooking the river.
The water moves slow, reflecting the last light of day.
It's quiet out there.
Just the two of them.
They sit across from each other.
Menus barely touched.
The air between them thick with everything that's been building.
Chase sets his menu down first.
"You've been off since I showed up... more off than normal."
Aria exhales slowly.
Here we go.
"I've been adjusting," she says.
"That's not what I mean."
He leans forward slightly.
"You've been holding something in."
She picks at the edge of her napkin.
"Chase..."
"No."
Not harsh.
But firm.
"Don't do that thing where you dodge it."
Her eyes flick up to his.
A long pause stretches between them.
The river moves quietly behind her.
Finally...
"It's not about you," she says.
A lie.
And they both know it.
His gaze doesn't waver.
"Then what is it?"
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then she exhales.
And lets it out.
"I don't think Emily is a bad person."
Chase blinks, caught slightly off guard.
"...Okay?"
"In fact," she continues, "I like her. From what I've seen, she's kind. She cares about people. She took care of you when you needed help."
There's no venom in her voice.
No jealousy.
Just... truth.
But something underneath it is tightening.
Chase nods slowly.
"She did."
Aria swallows.
Then meets his eyes fully.
"But as a healthcare professional..."
There it is.
The shift.
"I have a problem with what she did."
Chase's expression changes, subtle, but now he it the cautious one.
"What do you mean?"
Aria leans back slightly, arms crossing, not defensive, but bracing.
"She crossed an ethical line."
His brows pull together.
"She didn't..."
"She was your provider, Chase."
The words land firm.
Measured.
"You were her patient."
"I wasn't with her while I was her patient. We waited until I was healed. Recovered."
"You were, still her patient and in a way you still are."
That stops him.
"You were under her care. You were in a vulnerable state, severely traumatized, dealing with memory loss, showing signs of PTSD whether anyone named it or not."
Her voice doesn't rise.
But it sharpens.
"And she allowed a relationship to form anyway."
Chase shifts in his seat.
"She didn't take advantage of me."
"I didn't say she did."
Important distinction.
Aria softens, just slightly.
"I'm not saying she's a bad person. I'm saying she made a professional mistake."
A heavy one.
"She knew..." Aria continues, quieter now, "...or she should have known... that if your memories came back, there was a possibility you had a life somewhere else."
That lands deeper.
More personal.
"And instead of protecting you and preparing you... she built something with you anyway."
The river moves behind them.
Steady.
Unbothered.
Chase looks down for a moment.
Processing.
"She cared about me."
"I know."
"That wasn't fake."
"I know," Aria repeats.
A beat.
"But care doesn't cancel out her professional responsibility."
Silence settles between them.
Thick.
Real.
Chase exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"I didn't know," he admits quietly.
Aria's expression softens just a fraction.
"You weren't supposed to."
The waitress comes out then, breaking the moment just long enough to set their plates down.
Neither of them really notices.
Chase doesn't reach for his food.
Instead, he leans back slightly, studying her.
"Aria..."
She picks up her fork, but doesn't eat.
"I understand what you're saying," he begins. "From a professional standpoint."
Her eyes flick up to his.
He continues carefully, choosing each word like it matters... because it does.
"I get why you see it that way. The boundaries, the responsibility... all of it."
A small pause.
"But from my side of it... from inside that situation..."
He exhales slowly.
"It wasn't like that."
Aria stills.
"It took me over a year and a half... almost two years... just to physically recover," he says. "Surgeries, rehab, learning how to function again..."
His jaw tightens slightly at the memory.
"During that time, I didn't remember anything. Not one actual memory."
The river hums quietly behind them.
"There were moments where things felt... familiar," he adds. "Like a feeling I couldn't place. But nothing ever came back. No names. No faces. No life."
Aria's grip tightens slightly around her fork.
But she doesn't interrupt.
So he keeps going.
"By the time I was discharged... they told me the same thing over and over again... that sometimes memories don't come back."
He lets out a breath, almost like he's reliving it.
"And after a while... I believed them."
There's no bitterness in his voice.
"I had to," he says. "Because what else was I supposed to do? Sit around waiting for a life I couldn't even remember?"
That lands.
Aria's expression flickers, but she holds her composure.
"So I started over," he continues. "I took the name they gave me. I was able to find a job, go to school... build something."
A beat.
"I accepted that... whatever I had before was gone."
Silence stretches between them.
Thick.
Real.
"And Emily..." he hesitates, not defensive, just honest, "...she didn't push anything."
Aria's eyes sharpen slightly, but she stays quiet.
"She kept things professional," he says. "I pushed for the relationship."
Another pause.
"By the time anything changed... I wasn't her patient anymore."
That detail matters to him.
You can feel it.
"I wasn't in a hospital bed. I wasn't dependent on her care. I was... living."
He meets Aria's eyes fully now.
"And yeah... maybe I was still figuring things out... but I was Will... not Chase."
There's no anger in it.
Just... a quiet defense of the life he built.
"The relationship didn't just happen overnight," he adds. "It wasn't like she took advantage of me."
A softer beat.
"It was real to me."
That's the truth he's holding onto.
Aria finally sets her fork down.
Slowly.
Carefully.
"I believe you."
That catches him off guard.
His brows pull together slightly.
"You do?"
"I do," she says.
And she means it.
Her voice isn't accusing.
It's steady. Grounded.
"I believe that you experienced it as real. That you made choices based on what you knew... or didn't know."
A pause.
"But that doesn't change what she knew."
There it is.
Not louder.
Not harsher.
Just... unwavering.
Chase exhales.
"We didn't think my memories were coming back," he says.
Aria leans forward slightly.
"But she knew they could."
That lands.
Harder than before.
"She was trained to know that," Aria continues. "Even if the chances were low, even if it hadn't happened yet... she knew there was a possibility that you had a life somewhere else."
Her voice remains low and calm, but they both knew she was not.
"And instead of protecting that possibility... she stepped into it and in a way aided in slowing your memory return."
Chase looks away this time.
Out at the river.
Processing.
Struggling.
Because what she's saying isn't easy to dismiss.
"I didn't feel like I belonged to anyone else," he says quietly.
Aria's expression shifts.
Just slightly.
"I know," she says. "Love make it hard to blame."
And that's the tragedy of it.
Aria studies him for a long moment.
"I understand why you saw it the way you did," she says finally.
Chase exhales quietly, like maybe, just maybe, he's being heard.
But then...
"But you asked me what was wrong," she continues, voice steady. "You kept asking."
Her eyes hold his now.
"And I don't lie for anyone."
His eyes dart to hers as his brows draw down forming a frown.
"If the truth hurts," she adds, "then that usually means somewhere in there... you already know something wasn't right."
Silence stretches across the table.
Chase doesn't argue this time.
Doesn't defend.
Because something in her tone makes it clear...
This isn't up for debate anymore.
Aria leans back slightly, reaching for her fork again.
"I know you wanted me to understand," she says, softer now. "And I gave you the truth and now you're not happy but I have to be real and honest."
A small pause.
"However, once we leave here... I'm letting it go."
His brows pull together slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm not going to keep bringing it up. I'm not going to pick it apart or hold it over your head."
She glances down at her plate.
"It's said. It's done."
Then, quieter...
"And I'm tired of being mad, sad and hurt."
They eat after that. In silence.
Just the quiet clink of silverware, the soft movement of the river behind them, and two people sitting across from each other with no more words to say at that moment.
They get back on the road as soon as they finish and pay for their meal.
The road stretches endlessly ahead, headlights cutting through the night.
Chase rests his arm against the window, watching the blur of passing lights.
Aria keeps her eyes forward.
Focused.
Composed.
But her mind isn't on the road.
And he knows it.
He doesn't push this time.
By the time the Nashville skyline comes into view, the air in the cabin has settled into something quieter.
Not resolved.
Just... worn down.
Aria finally speaks.
"Where are you planning on staying?"
Chase shifts slightly in his seat.
"I still have the hotel," he says. "They never took me out of the system."
She nods once.
"But?"
He lets out a small breath.
"I don't really want to go back there."
She glances at him briefly.
"Why not?"
He shrugs, but it's not casual.
"I don't know... it just doesn't feel right anymore."
A beat.
"Doesn't feel like anywhere I'm supposed to be."
Aria looks back at the road.
Quiet.
"And Emily?"
The question is careful.
Neutral.
Chase watches her for a second before answering.
"We've been texting."
Of course they have.
"She's planning to head back to New Zealand soon," he adds. "But right now she's staying with Parker."
Aria nods slowly.
Processing.
Not reacting.
At least, not outwardly.
The city lights flicker across the windshield as they drive deeper into Nashville.
Closer to home.
Closer to something real.
Aria exhales softly.
Then...
"You can stay with me."
Chase turns to her.
Surprised.
"Yeah?"
She nods.
"But only as friends."
There it is again.
Clear. Firm. Unmoved.
"You'll have the guest room," she continues. "Your own space."
No blurred lines.
No assumptions.
Chase studies her for a moment.
Trying to read between the lines.
Trying to find something more.
There isn't anything more to find.
"...Okay," he says.
The car pulls into the driveway.
The house sits quiet in the dark.
Aria turns off the engine.
For a second, neither of them moves.
Then she reaches for the door.
"Come on," she says.
Inside, the house smells like vanilla.
Aria sets her keys down, slipping into routine like armor.
Chase lingers just inside the doorway.
Caught in that strange in between.
She notices.
Of course she does.
"The guest room's down the hall," she says, not looking at him.
"Second door on the right."
He nods slowly.
"Got it."
A pause.
Something unspoken hangs between them.
He almost says her name.
Almost reaches for something that used to be his.
But...
He stops himself.
Aria heads toward her room without another word.
Chase watches her disappear down the hallway.
Then turns the other direction.
Toward the guest room.
Toward distance.
Toward starting over...
Again.
Author Note
Before you go...
I'd really love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. This one felt heavy to write, and it shifts a lot between Aria and Chase, so I'm curious how it felt on your end.
Also, this might be fun, when you picture Chase in your mind... who do you see?
Is there an actor he reminds you of? Or even just a vibe, a look, a presence?
I always have a version of him in my head, but I love seeing how different everyone imagines him. Sometimes your ideas end up shaping mine more than you realize.
Tell me what you think ??