Page 37 of Giving Chase

He laughs, but it's a harsh sound, nothing like the warm chuckle I've grown to love. "Right. Because some new manager is going to understand us, understand our vision, the way you do. The way you always have."

I feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "Chase, please. Try to understand. This isn't easy for me either."

"Then don't do it," he says, his voice suddenly soft, pleading. He steps closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne – the same one he wore the night we first kissed. "We need you, Eliza. I need you."

For a moment, I waver. The pull between us, the connection we've always had, it's strong enough to make me consider throwing it all away. But then I think of all the late nights, the sacrifices, the years I've poured into getting to this point.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words tasting bitter. "I have to do this. For me."

Something shutters in Chase's eyes, and he steps back as if I've physically struck him. "Right. For you. Well, congratulations on the promotion, Ms. Kerr. I'm sure you'll do great things."

The formality stings more than outright anger would have. "Chase..."

"You know," he interrupts, his voice low and intense, "I always thought that when it came down to it, you'd choose us. Choose me. Like I would have chosen you. Every time."

His words hit me like a physical blow. "It's not about choosing, Chase. It's about growth. Change."

"Change," he repeats, the word dripping with sarcasm. "Is that what we're calling it now? Because from where I'm standing, it looks a lot like running away."

Anger flares in me, hot and sudden. "That's not fair. I've given everything to this band, to you, for years. I've put my life on hold, my relationships-"

"Our relationship, you mean?" Chase cuts in, his eyes flashing. "The one we've been dancing around for over a decade? The one you've always kept at arm's length because it wasn't 'professional'?"

I flinch, the truth of his words cutting deep. "That's... that's not what this is about."

"Isn't it?" he challenges. "Because it seems to me that every time we get close to something real, you find a way to put more distance between us. And now this."

Tears are flowing freely now, and I make no effort to stop them. "Chase, please. This is my career, my future. Can't you understand that?"

For a moment, the anger seems to drain out of him, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. "I understand that you're making a choice, Eliza. I just wish, for once, that choice had been me."

The finality in his voice terrifies me. "This doesn't have to be the end," I say, hating how desperate I sound. "I'll still be involved with the label, we'll still see each other-"

"It won't be the same," he says quietly. "You know it won't."

And I do know. With crushing certainty, I realize that this moment, this decision, is changing everything between us.

"I should go," I murmur, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer.

Chase nods, turning away. "Yeah, you should. I'm sure you have a lot to prepare for in your new role."

I make my way to the door on unsteady legs, feeling as though I'm leaving a part of myself behind. As I reach for the handle, Chase speaks again, his voice so low I almost miss it.

"I hope it's worth it, Eliza. I really do."

The drive home is a blur, tears clouding my vision. I've achieved what I've always dreamed of, taken a huge step forward in my career. So why does it feel like I've lost something irreplaceable?

As I pull into my driveway, my phone buzzes with a text from Chase.

CHASE: When are you telling the rest of the band?

I stare at the message, feeling the finality of it all crashing down on me. This is really happening. I'm really stepping away. Am I doing the right thing?

With shaking fingers, I type out a reply.

ME: Tomorrow. Band meeting at 2.

His response is immediate and cuts me to the core.

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