Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Bayleigh
I am both glad and upset at the same time, an unfamiliar mix of emotions for me.
I never expected Chase to walk out on me.
People don’t usually question me; they just do what I ask.
But Chase doesn’t seem to understand this dynamic, and it frustrates me.
This concert is a crucial moment for my career, and if it fails, there will be no comeback album, no tour, nothing.
I can’t afford to fade into obscurity at this point in my life.
I need this to work. Deep down, I know that Chase is good, and he was right about that note.
My frustration towards him is probably due to a combination of factors: the stress of the show, being in this town, and seeing Kelly getting intimate with Frankie earlier.
The truth is, Chase is more than good—he has mastered all of my songs with such passion and precision that it is as if he has been playing them for years, feeling every note as deeply as I do.
It is awe-inspiring, and I can’t deny that it stirs something within me—something I haven’t felt in a long time.
While I freshen up in the bathroom, I let myself get lost in a whirlwind of emotions, imagining Chase dedicating himself to learning my songs, listening to them over and over, absorbing every nuance until he could play them with the kind of heart and soul that only he possesses.
At sixteen, he had set the bar high. He was not only my first sexual partner, but also my best one to this day.
The connection we shared was electric, a blend of innocent curiosity and raw passion.
I can still recall the way his touch sent shivers down my spine and his eyes bored into mine, filled with a mix of wonder and intensity.
However, I can’t help but wonder if my memories are accurate after all these years.
Time has a way of altering perceptions, and perhaps I’ve romanticized those moments.
But the truth remains that being with Chase was extraordinary, something that transcended the physical act itself.
The way he made me feel cherished and understood is unparalleled.
Has he pleased countless women since me?
Maybe he is even married with a big family, but I never bothered to ask.
I don’t want to know the reality; my fantasy memory is probably better, anyway.
Yet the thought of him with someone else gnaws at me, a bitter pang of jealousy mixing with the nostalgia.
I can still picture the way his fingers danced on the guitar strings, the same way they once traced patterns on my skin.
His eyes, deep and soulful, seemed to hold secrets and emotions that were only shared with me during those intimate moments.
The warmth of his embrace, the softness of his whispers in the dark, and the electric connection between us—I can feel them all as vividly as if they had happened just yesterday.
But reality has a cruel way of intruding on my memories.
The Chase I knew then and the Chase I’ve encountered now are worlds apart.
He has grown, not just in talent but in stature, carrying himself with a confidence that is both intimidating and alluring.
He isn’t the man he was. And I sure as hell am not the girl I was back then. Too much has changed.
Yet I can’t ignore the lingering feelings. There is an undeniable chemistry, a magnetic pull that draws me to him despite the circumstances. The tension between us is palpable, charged with unresolved emotions and unspoken words.
I make my way back to the stage where Kelly is waiting with her iPad.
“Yeah, I know.” I raise my hands in surrender. “We can’t have a show without him. Offer him whatever it takes to get him back.”
Kelly lets out a shrill laugh. “It’s going to take more than money. Chase isn’t motivated by that. As you may have noticed, he’s already quite successful on his own. This is about pride now.”
I drop my shoulders in defeat. “What do you mean?”
“You need to fix things yourself. Did you hear him? He sounded amazing, and so did you all together. You have to find him and beg him to come back, or else we might as well pack up and go home right now. And then we’ll have a breach of contract and another lawsuit on our hands.”
“Great way to break the news gently, Kelly.” I rub my forehead, a headache coming on. “So what should I do?”
“I’ll arrange a meeting at a diner—that one with the good coffee we went to before.” Kelly quickly types something into her iPad. “You need to swallow your pride and grovel to that man.”
“Fuck.” I let out a sigh. “Fine, set it up. Today, if possible. We’re running out of time. There’s only three days till curtains up, and I need to get Chase back on the team. We can’t perform without a guitar player. ”
“Already on it.” Kelly taps her screen. “Now get back to rehearsal.”
* * *
Kelly and I arrive at the diner, which is mercifully quiet since I really don’t want an audience watching or filming me groveling, if need be, to Chase.
He’s not there yet, so we sit down and wait.
He’s late. I glance at the antique analogue clock on the wall and see that he is five minutes behind schedule.
I can’t shake off the feeling that maybe he’s not going to show up or that this is all some ploy to embarrass me.
What will I do if he refuses to play at the show?
Anxious thoughts race through my mind as I drum my nails on the table.
“You’re sure he agreed to meet here?” I ask Kelly.
She nods reassuringly. “He’s probably just running behind. You know how things move slower in small towns.”
“I have a lot to do this evening, so if he’s not here in five . . .” I start to say before Kelly waves at someone behind me and Chase appears, casting a tall shadow over me. My nerves twist in my stomach as Kelly stands and gestures for Chase to take her seat across from me.
“Thank you for coming,” she says before moving away to a nearby table, giving me a supportive look. Chase raises his eyebrows at me but remains standing, forcing me to strain my neck to make eye contact with him.
“Please sit down,” I say with a shaky breath.
He sighs and settles into the chair, crossing his muscular arms over his chest and leaning back.
The manual labor of working his ranch has chiseled his biceps, which now strains against his denim shirt.
My eyes are drawn to his left hand, the one that controls guitar notes and knows how to create beautiful music.
The sight of it makes me flush with desire and remember our previous encounters, where he made me moan and writhe under his touch.
I inhale deeply and meet his gaze, only to see a spark in his eye that makes me think he’s been reading my mind and knows exactly what I’ve been daydreaming about.
As if being turned on earlier wasn’t enough, now I have even more fantasies to add to my mental spank bank.
Might as well just get this over with. “Look, I’m sorry about this morning.
You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just stressed and took it out on you,” I say in a low voice, feeling like I’m groveling.
He holds my gaze before slowly uncrossing his arms and leaning forward, resting them on the table. His face is close to mine now. “So you’re admitting that you were wrong, and I was right?”
My heart races at his slight taunting tone, but I know he’s just trying to make me squirm.
“Yes, fine. You were right,” I say through gritted teeth, not wanting the whole world to hear me admit it.
A satisfied smile curves across Chase’s lips, and the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles. I remember this look. That mischievous grin.
“What exactly has you so frustrated, Bayleigh?”
“You know what. My career is in the toilet, and if this show isn’t a huge success, then I have nothing.
No career, no representation, and no future.
” This time, I cross my arms under my breasts and lean back in the chair.
Glancing down, I realize that this has caused my already tight T-shirt to strain even more.
The V-neckline is stretching, the white fabric revealing more skin than is appropriate for any daytime business meeting.
Chase’s eyes wander down to my chest, and my breath catches in my throat. My heart races as blood rushes towards my lower half. The desire for his touch, for his lips and tongue, becomes almost unbearable. I can’t help but wonder if he would be up for a little afternoon delight.
No, stop it. We both know this can’t just be a casual fling. Our history is too complicated. It’s best to keep things professional and distant.
I slowly uncross my arms and silently urge him to look back at my face. “Please reconsider and perform the show with me,” I plead with him. I hate feeling vulnerable like this. It never ends well—just in heartbreak and embarrassment.
He looks at me, all playfulness gone from his expression now.
“I understand how important this is to you. This town and these people mean something to me, too. I want this show to be a success.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable.
“But will you promise to stop being such a diva and trust in the music? It’s already great—the band is talented, and they know what they’re doing.
The more you stress, the worse it gets.”
Then he does something that nearly stops my heart.
He reaches out and places his hand on top of mine.
“Remember why we loved performing?” He lowers his head, gazing up at me through those long lashes of his. “Because we loved that connection with the audience. When you relax and enjoy yourself, that connection is strongest.”
My throat tightens as I swallow hard. He’s right. I’ve been so focused on every little detail that I haven’t been able to let go and just connect with the song. That’s when I’m truly authentic—when the music flows through me.
“Do you ever miss those old days? Performing at shows around town?” I ask, a flood of fond memories rushing through my mind.
His fingers gently stroke my skin, sending shivers down my spine. “Yes,” he says quietly, holding my gaze with his intense eyes. “I think about you all the time.”
My eyes widen at his confession. He pulls his hand back and quickly tucks it under the table. His posture straightens, and an awkward silence falls between us.
I grab the glass of water in front of me and take a long sip as Kelly waves, signaling for me to wrap up the conversation.
Enough of this painful trip down Memory Lane. “So, will you come back to rehearsal?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
Chase nods slowly. “Fine. I’ll give you one more chance. Don’t screw it up, or I’m out for good.”
“Thank you.” I let out a sigh of relief. “Do you need to get your guitar? The band is waiting for us.”
“It’s in my car.” He says.
“Let’s go then—we don’t have much time.” I get up from my chair and head towards the exit.
A woman enters the diner. I tense as recognition sets in.
It’s my mother, but she doesn’t look like the woman I remember from my childhood.
Her hair is disheveled and grey, and her clothes seem thrown together without any care.
Without the style and pride in her appearance, she used to have.
We lock eyes from across the room, and it seems we’re both afraid to make a move.
The last time we saw each other was in a heated argument filled with tears and screams. Before I stormed out of the house, my mother said something that still haunts me: “You should have been the one to die. Not her!”
As Chase takes hold of my hand, his warm fingers intertwining with mine, he must notice the tension between my mother and me. He asks if I want to talk to her, but I rush to shake my head—I never want to speak to her again.
She breaks our gaze, turns, and hurries out of the diner without a word. I am left looking at the door swinging shut behind her.
My mother hasn’t spoken to me in eighteen years. She hasn’t even made an effort to contact me.
“Your leaving must have been hard on her,” Chase says quietly. I know he is trying to comfort me, but he doesn’t know what really happened between us.
I look at him and try not to let the pain show on my face. “I did what she told me to do,” I say. I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve talked with therapists and doctors over the years and rehashing the past has never helped me before.
Chase tries to apologize, but I put my hand up to stop him. I don’t want his pity.
“Let’s go,” I say to Kelly, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and sadness. As we make our way out of the diner, my steps feel heavy, each one echoing the weight of my unresolved pain.
We walk back to the hotel, stopping briefly so Chase can get his guitar. The walk is silent, a palpable tension filling the air as I try to swallow down the emotions bubbling inside me.
Memories of that fateful day rush back, my mother’s harsh words ringing in my ears, the heartache of her rejection cutting deeper than any physical wound.
I clench my fists, my nails digging into my palms as if the pain could ground me, keep me from falling apart.
Chase’s presence beside me is a bittersweet comfort; his support is a lifeline, yet it also reminds me of the fragility of human connection and the scars others can leave.
By the time we reach the hotel, I am exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
I glance at Chase, whose concerned eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I let my guard down.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
It’s all I can manage, but he nods, hopefully understanding more than words could convey.
“I just need a minute,” I say to Kelly before heading to the bathroom. I lean over the sink and let the silence envelop me, a stark contrast to the chaos within. I know I have to face my past, but for now, I just need to breathe.