Giving Chase (Incendiary Ink #1)

9. Run – Eliza

Run

ELIZA

The steady click of my Louboutin boots echoes through the halls of Blackmore Records, a rhythm as familiar as any hit single we've produced. It's barely 8 AM, but my mind is already a cacophony of tasks: Hall of Fame logistics, contract negotiations for Lila Rose (our newest indie-pop sensation), and the never-ending battle with my inbox.

And underneath it all, a persistent bassline of thoughts about Chase and our dinner.

I'm so engrossed in mental calculations about Lila's streaming projections that I nearly collide with Michelle as I round the corner.

"Woah there, boss lady," she laughs, steadying me with a hand on my arm. "You know, if you keep avoiding me, I might start to take it personally."

I wince, guilt flashing through me. I have been avoiding her, haven't I? "Sorry, Michelle. I've just been..."

"Busy?" she finishes, raising an eyebrow. "Too busy to tell your best friend how that dinner went? The dinner you've been stressing about for days?"

I sigh, ushering her into my office and closing the door. The familiar scent of her jasmine perfume follows us in, a reminder of countless late-night strategy sessions and confidential chats. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you. It's just..."

"Complicated?" Michelle supplies, perching on the edge of my desk.

I nod, sinking into my chair. "How'd you guess?"

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Please. It's you and Chase. When has it ever not been complicated?"

I turn to my dual monitors, pulling up Lila's projected numbers as a distraction. "It was... good. Professional. He looks healthy. Five years sober."

"But?" Michelle prompts, undeterred.

I pause, my cursor hovering over a particularly promising streaming forecast. "But... it's like no time has passed and all the time in the world has passed, all at once. He's still Chase, you know? Still has that way of looking at me like..."

"Like you're the only person in the room?" Michelle finishes softly.

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"And that scares you."

"Wouldn't it scare you?" I ask, finally looking up at her. "After everything that happened? The rehab, the things he said, the years of silence?"

Michelle considers this, absently fiddling with a golden record on my wall - Incendiary Ink's second album. "Yeah, it would. But Eliza, at some point you have to decide if the potential for happiness outweighs the fear of getting hurt again. You can't keep producing other people's love songs if you're not willing to star in your own."

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. It's a text from Chase.

CHASE: Band rehearsal at 2. Song choices finalized. You should be there.

I show the text to Michelle, who raises an eyebrow. "Well, looks like the universe is giving you a push. You going?"

I hesitate, my mind already conjuring up a list of excuses. Board meetings. Conference calls. Lila's contract. But I know none of them will stick. "I have to. It's my job, after all."

Michelle stands, heading for the door. "Sure, keep telling yourself that's the only reason. Just... keep an open mind, okay?"

As she leaves, I turn back to my computer, trying to lose myself in contract negotiations and damage control. But my mind keeps drifting to the upcoming rehearsal, to seeing Chase again, to hearing the songs they've chosen.

Before I know it, it's 1:45 and I'm pulling into the parking lot of Sonic Boom Studios. The faded mural of music legends on the exterior wall brings back a flood of memories - late night recording sessions, heated creative debates, stolen moments in dark corners.

I take a deep breath, the familiar scent of old cigarette smoke and stale coffee hitting me as I enter. Some things never change.

The sound of music greets me as I step into Studio A. They're in the middle of Off the Record , and for a moment, I'm transported back in time. Chase's voice, still as powerful and emotive as ever, wraps around me like a familiar embrace. The years fall away, and I'm that young A&R rep again, watching her first big signing take flight.

Will sees me first, offering a wave from behind his drum kit, never missing a beat. Mark nods in acknowledgment, fingers flying across his guitar strings in that intricate bridge section that always impressed me. And Chase... Chase's eyes lock with mine, a small smile playing at his lips as he continues to sing, his fingers never faltering on his bass.

They finish the song, and after a brief discussion filled with the shorthand of a band that's been together for decades, they launch into Burning Bridges . It's a harder song, full of pain and anger, and I remember all too well the tumultuous time when it was written. I see Chase's jaw clench on certain lines, and I wonder if he's remembering too.

But it's the third song that changes everything.

The opening chords of Whispered Truths fill the room, and I feel my breath catch. I've always loved this song, but something feels different this time. Maybe it's the way Chase's voice softens on certain lines, or the way his eyes keep finding mine as he sings, as if each word is meant for me alone.

And suddenly, like feedback from an amp turned up too high, it hits me. The lyrics I've heard a hundred times before suddenly take on new meaning:

In the silence between words,

In the spaces we don't fill,

There's a truth we've never heard,

A promise we can't fulfill.

It's about me. About us. All this time, and I never realized.

I watch Chase as he sings, really watch him, and I see every emotion play across his face. The love, the regret, the hope - it's all there, laid bare in the lyrics and the melody.

As the last notes fade away, I find myself blinking back tears, grateful for the dim lighting of the studio. Chase is looking at me, a question in his eyes, and I know he's wondering if I've finally understood.

The realization that this song - this beautiful, heart-wrenching song - is about me sends a rush of warmth through my body. For a moment, I allow myself to bask in it, to imagine what it might be like to let those walls down and let Chase in again.

But then reality comes crashing back. The years of pain, the broken trust, the professional complications - they all flood my mind, dousing the warm glow of realization with cold, hard facts.

Yes, the song is about me. Yes, Chase clearly had - maybe still has - deep feelings for me. But is that enough? Can it overcome all the hurt, all the challenges we'd face?

As the band starts to pack up their gear, I find myself rooted to the spot, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Chase hands his bass to a tech and approaches, that familiar half-smile on his face.

"So, what did you think?" he asks, his voice soft, intimate.

I swallow hard, forcing a professional smile. "It was great. You guys are going to bring the house down at the ceremony."

Something flickers in Chase's eyes - disappointment? Resignation? - but he nods, keeping his tone light. "That's the plan. Thanks for coming, Eliza. It means a lot."

He pauses, running a hand through his hair - a gesture so familiar it makes my heart ache. "Listen, I was wondering if maybe we could grab a coffee or something? Talk about the set list, make sure we're on the same page for the ceremony."

I hesitate, every instinct screaming at me to make an excuse, to maintain that professional distance. But the hopeful look in his eyes weakens my resolve. "I don't know, Chase. We covered most of the details at dinner..."

"I know," he says quickly. "I just thought... well, it's been a while since we really talked. About everything."

The implied meaning hangs heavy between us. Everything . Our past, our missed chances, the constant bad timing that's defined our relationship.

"Chase," I start, my voice barely above a whisper, "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

He takes a step closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne - the same one he's worn for years. It brings back a flood of memories: stolen moments during recording sessions, the bittersweet realization during my second marriage that I was still in love with him, the gut-wrenching news of his Vegas wedding just as I was finalizing my divorce.

"Why not?" he asks softly. "We're both adults, Eliza. We can handle a conversation, can't we?"

I look up at him, really look at him. The years have been kind to Chase, adding a maturity to his features that only enhances his appeal. But it's the vulnerability in his eyes that catches me off guard.

"It's complicated," I say, echoing my earlier words to Michelle. "There's a lot of history there. A lot of... missed timing."

Chase nods, a sad smile playing at his lips. "I know. That's kind of why I want to talk. Clear the air, maybe? Start fresh?"

For a moment, I'm tempted. The idea of starting fresh, of wiping the slate clean and seeing where things might go... it's intoxicating. But then I remember all the times I've made the wrong choice, all the heartache that's followed.

"I appreciate the offer, Chase," I say finally, straightening my shoulders. "But I think it's best if we keep things professional. For now, at least."

The disappointment is clear on his face, but he nods, respecting my decision. "I understand. But Eliza?"

"Yes?"

"The offer stands. If you ever change your mind... well, you know where to find me. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry. For everything. The timing, the mistakes... all of it."

As I turn to leave, Chase calls out one last time. "Oh, and Eliza? Whispered Truths ... it was always about you. I thought you should know that."

The words hit me like a physical blow, confirming what I'd just realized. I manage a nod, not trusting myself to speak, and hurry out of the studio.

As I step into the warm Los Angeles afternoon, the echo of Whispered Truths still ringing in my ears, I'm not sure which way the scales will tip. The professional in me knows I made the right call. But the woman who's carried a torch for Chase all these years, through failed marriages and missed opportunities? She's screaming at me to turn around, to take that chance.

For the first time in a long time, I'm willing to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, some risks are worth taking. But am I brave enough to break the cycle of bad timing and wrong choices? Can I trust myself to make the right decision this time?

Only time will tell. But as I drive away from the studio, Chase's words echoing in my mind, I can't help but wonder: what if this time, finally, our timing is right?

March 13, 2008

The scratch of pen on paper seems unnaturally loud in the sterile conference room. I sign my name with a flourish - Eliza Kerr, not Baxter - officially ending my second marriage after just over a year.

"Congratulations, Ms. Kerr," my lawyer says, her voice tinged with the awkward cheer of someone who's not sure if congratulations are appropriate. "You're officially divorced."

I nod, not trusting my voice. Relief mingles with a profound sense of failure as I gather my things. Another marriage, another mistake. As I step out into the bright Los Angeles sunshine, I can't help but wonder: why do I keep making the wrong choices?

Little do I know, at that very moment, 270 miles away in Las Vegas, Chase Avery is making a choice of his own - one that will send shockwaves through both our lives.

Days pass in a blur of work and carefully constructed avoidance of anything personal. I throw myself into contracts, marketing plans, anything to keep my mind off the empty house I return to each night.

It's nearly a week later when I finally allow myself a moment to breathe. I'm curled up on my couch, a glass of wine in hand, mindlessly flipping through a stack of industry magazines when a headline catches my eye, and my world tilts on its axis:

"INCENDIARY INK FRONTMAN CHASE AVERY'S SURPRISE VEGAS WEDDING!"

The wine glass slips from my suddenly numb fingers, spilling red across my white carpet. I barely notice. My eyes are glued to the page, drinking in the grainy paparazzi shot of Chase stumbling out of a chapel, a blonde in a mini dress clinging to his arm.

The article is a blur of sensationalized details - a whirlwind romance, a drunken ceremony, speculation about the band's future. But all I can focus on is the date: March 13th. The exact same day my divorce was finalized. While I was signing away one failed marriage, Chase was stumbling into his own.

A laugh bubbles up in my throat, bitter and bordering on hysterical. Of course. Of course this would happen on the same day. Our timing has always been spectacularly, cosmically bad.

Unbidden, a memory surfaces: Chase and I, late night in the studio, just a month ago. The band was on a break, and I was already knee-deep in divorce proceedings that I’d kept to myself. Chase was playing a new song, something raw and beautiful that never made it onto an album.

"What do you think?" he'd asked, his eyes seeking mine in that way that always made my heart skip.

"It's beautiful," I'd said, meaning it. "But sad."

He'd shrugged, a half-smile playing on his lips. "Sometimes the best songs come from the saddest places."

I'd felt it then, the pull between us that had always been there. For a moment, I'd let myself imagine what it would be like to give in, to let myself fall. But then my wedding ring had caught the light, and I'd remembered why I couldn't. Not yet . Soon, maybe – if I was brave enough.

Now, staring at the news of Chase's impulsive marriage, performed at the exact moment I was freeing myself from my own, I wonder if that moment had meant as much to him as it had to me. Or if, perhaps, it had scared him into this rash decision.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind of rumors and speculation. The industry gossip mill is working overtime, and despite my best efforts to stay professional, bits and pieces reach my ears. Chase's new wife is a cocktail waitress he met the night of the wedding. He was on a bender when it happened. He's already talking to lawyers about an annulment.

Each new piece of information is a knife to my heart. I try to tell myself it's just concern for the band, for the brand we've built. But in the quiet moments, I can't deny the truth: it hurts because it's Chase.

Before I know it, it's time for the band's reunion meeting. As I step into the conference room at Blackmore Records, the tension is palpable. Will and Mark are already there, greeting me with awkward smiles. And then Chase walks in.

He looks... rough. Like he hasn't slept in weeks. But still, damn him, unfairly handsome. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, it's like no time has passed at all.

"Eliza," he says, his voice soft, almost reverent. "It's good to see you."

"You too," I manage, proud of how steady my voice sounds. "Congratulations on your marriage."

Pain flashes across his face, quickly replaced by shame. "Thanks," he says, the word sounding forced. "I heard about your divorce. I'm sorry."

The meeting passes in a haze of contract discussions and tour planning. I'm hyperaware of Chase's presence, of every move he makes, every word he speaks. The chemistry between us, that spark that's always been there, feels stronger than ever.

As the meeting wraps up, I head to the kitchenette for a much-needed coffee. I'm reaching for the pot when a familiar presence appears beside me.

"Still mainlining caffeine, I see," Chase says, a hint of his old teasing tone in his voice.

I turn, and suddenly we're too close. I can smell his cologne, see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. "Some things never change," I say, aiming for lightness but hearing the tremor in my voice.

"And some things do," he murmurs, his eyes searching mine. "Eliza, I... I made a mistake. A huge mistake."

My heart races. Is he talking about the wedding? About us? Before I can ask, he continues.

"I'm talking to lawyers. About an annulment. It... it never should have happened."

For a moment, I let myself imagine closing the distance between us, consequences be damned. The air feels charged, electric. Chase leans in, just slightly, and I find myself swaying towards him.

"Hey, Chase! We need you to sign off on these tour dates!"

Mark's voice shatters the moment. Chase steps back, clearing his throat. "I should go," he says, regret clear in his voice. "But Eliza... can we talk? Later? There's so much I need to say."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As he walks away, I let out a shaky breath. What just happened?

Later, alone in my office, I try to make sense of it all. The divorce, Chase's marriage and impending annulment, the undeniable pull between us that still exists. I know I need to be professional, to keep things strictly business. But a small, traitorous part of me whispers: what if this is our chance?

As I start drafting an email about the upcoming tour, I make a decision. I'll keep things professional, for now. I'll be the manager they need me to be. But I'll also listen to what Chase has to say. Because if there's one thing I've learned, it's that when it comes to Chase Avery, my heart can't be trusted to make the right choice.

But maybe, just maybe, this time it's not about making the right choice. Maybe it's about taking a risk on the only choice that's ever felt truly right.