Giving Chase (Incendiary Ink #1)

8. Pieces – Chase

Pieces

CHASE

The Los Angeles traffic crawls along the 101, but for once, I don't mind. The slow pace gives me time to process Dr. Hendricks' words from our therapy session.

"Seeing Eliza again has stirred up a lot of old feelings, Chase. That's natural. The question is, what are you going to do with those feelings?"

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythm matching the tumult in my head. What am I going to do? Hell if I know.

Five years of sobriety, of working on myself, of trying to become someone I could be proud of. And one dinner with Eliza has me feeling like that lost, confused kid all over again.

I've always preferred these one-on-one sessions with Dr. Hendricks. AA meetings in LA are about as anonymous as a billboard on Sunset Boulevard. But today, part of me wishes for the simplicity of those meetings. "Hi, I'm Chase, and I'm an alcoholic" is a hell of a lot easier than "Hi, I'm Chase, and I'm still in love with the woman I hurt beyond measure five years ago."

My phone buzzes with a text from Will.

WILL: You close? Mark's already here, threatening to start without us.

I smile despite myself. Some things never change.

Twenty minutes later, I'm pulling into the driveway of Will's Malibu home. It's been a few months since we've all been together like this. Sure, we've seen each other over the past five years - birthdays, holidays, the occasional jam session. But this feels different. This feels like it matters.

Mark's cherry-red vintage Mustang is already in the driveway, parked next to Will's sleek Tesla. The contrast makes me chuckle. We may be older, but some dynamics remain the same.

I find them in Will's home studio, Mark already coaxing a melody from his Gibson, while Will absently taps a rhythm on his thighs. Even after all these years, they're both unfairly handsome. Will's dark hair is artfully tousled, not a trace of gray despite being in our forties. Mark, ever the rebel, still sports a shock of electric blue running through his otherwise golden locks.

"Look what the cat dragged in," Will grins, unfolding his tall frame from behind his drum kit to pull me into a quick hug. His arms, still muscled from years of drumming, nearly squeeze the breath out of me.

"How ya been, man?" Mark asks, setting his guitar aside. He's kept himself fit too, his lean physique a testament to clean living and probably way too much yoga.

"Can't complain," I shrug, clapping them both on the shoulder. It's surreal sometimes, how we've all grown up but somehow stayed the same. "How about you guys?"

Mark fixes me with a knowing look. "Better than you, I'd guess. Heard you had dinner with Eliza."

I freeze, caught off guard. "How did you-"

"Dude," Will laughs, running a hand through his thick hair, "it's us. Did you really think we wouldn't know?"

I sigh, sinking into the worn leather couch. "It was... intense. Good, I think. But complicated."

They exchange a look I can't quite decipher. "You okay?" Will asks, his tone softer.

I nod, not quite meeting their eyes. "Yeah, I'm good. It's just... a lot, you know?"

Mark nods sagely, idly strumming a chord. "We know, man. We were there for most of it, remember?"

The weight of our shared history hangs in the air for a moment before Will claps his hands, breaking the tension.

"Alright, enough of this sappy shit. We've got work to do. Hall of Fame, boys! Can you believe it?"

I can't help but grin. His excitement is infectious. "Still feels fucking surreal," I admit, my fingers instinctively moving to form bass chords even without my instrument.

"Well, believe it," Mark says, tossing his blue-streaked hair out of his eyes. "Now we just need to decide what to play. We get three songs, right?"

I nod, grateful for the change of subject. "Yeah, three songs to sum up our entire career. No pressure or anything."

Will grabs his bass, strumming absently. "Well, we gotta do Off the Record, right? It was our first big hit."

"Agreed," Mark nods. "And Burning Bridges has to be in there. It was huge, and it kinda defined our sound for our third album."

I swallow hard, memories flooding back. That song, written when I was teetering on the edge, pouring all my pain and confusion into the lyrics. Eliza's face when she first heard it, worry and sadness warring in her eyes.

"Yeah," I say, my voice rougher than I intend. "Yeah, let's do Burning Bridges. "

Will eyes me carefully. "You sure, man? We can pick something else if it's too much."

I shake my head. "No, it's perfect. It's... it's part of our story, you know? The good and the bad."

They both nod, understanding.

"Okay," Mark says, "so we've got Off the Record and Burning Bridges. What about the last one?"

I think for a moment, then a slow smile spreads across my face. "What about Whispered Truths ?"

Will's eyes widen, a knowing look passing between him and Mark. "Seriously? You want to do that one?"

I nod, my heart racing a little. "Yeah, I do. It was a big hit, and the fans love it. Plus..." I trail off, not sure how to put it into words.

"Plus, it's about Eliza," Mark finishes softly.

I nod again, not trusting my voice. Whispered Truths had been our closing song for years, a power ballad that always brought the house down. What the fans didn't know was that I'd written it for Eliza, pouring all my complicated feelings for her into every line. Fuck, in truth – every song was for her in some way.

"You think she knows?" Will asks, his voice gentle.

I shrug, trying for nonchalance and probably failing miserably. "I don't know. Maybe. We never really talked about it."

There's a moment of silence as we all remember those days - the tension, the unspoken feelings, the way Eliza would watch from the wings every time we performed that song, her expression unreadable.

"I think it's perfect," Mark says finally. "It showcases a different side of our sound, and it was a fan favorite. Plus..." he grins, lightening the mood, "it'll give the ladies in the audience something to swoon over."

I roll my eyes, but I'm grateful for the break in tension. "Alright, alright. So we're agreed? Off the Record, Burning Bridges, and Whispered Truths ?"

Will and Mark nod, and just like that, it's decided.

"Well then," Will says, strumming the opening chords of Whispered Truths, "shall we run through them? For old times' sake?"

As we start to play, the familiar melodies washing over me, I feel something stir in my chest. This - the music, the brotherhood - this has always been my constant. Through the highs and lows, the addiction and recovery, the love and loss, the music has always been there.

And as we launch into Whispered Truths, I can't help but think of Eliza. I wonder if she'll understand the significance when we play it at the ceremony. If she'll remember all those nights, all those unspoken words between us.

"You know," Will says during a break, "we should probably run this set list by Eliza. Make sure she's cool with it for the induction speech and all."

I nod, trying to ignore the way my heart races at the thought of discussing this particular song choice with Eliza. "Yeah, you're right. I'll give her a call tomorrow."

As we dive back into the music, I can't help but feel like we're not just rehearsing for a performance. We're opening a door to something new, something that bridges our past and our future.

I guess I'll find out soon enough where that door leads.