“Yeah, it’s my first name. Chase is my middle name.”
He puts his hands on the counter on either side of me, coming closer. “If you had told me the truth in that hotel room,” he goes on, “I would’ve made my own choice. And it wouldnothave been to duck out before morning. I would’ve stuck it out with you.”
I’m quickly losing my grip. “Timothy …”
“You deserve to have what you want, Austin. You can’t give it up just because other people seem to be … to be running your life.” His eyes flick away, his own words hitting him, too.
Oh, of course. His parents. The family business.
“Then why aren’t you getting whatyoudeserve?” I gently ask.
His eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“You’d have stood up to your parents by now,” I go on. “Told them you aren’t interested in taking over the business.”
“But I …” Now he’s the one sputtering. “It … isn’t as easy as—”
“Of course not,” I agree with him. “Nothing about either of our situations is easy. I … I made a mistake with you, alright? … I went too far. I entertained it for too long.”
“A mistake …?”
“The fantasy of us.” I wag a finger between us. “You and me. I didn’t think it through. I just … I let my feelings get carried away. But I can’t do that. I can’t when so many people are relying on me. I’ve gotta be Chase Holt.” I look down. “I’ve … got no room in my life to be Austin, you get what I mean?”
He closes his eyes. Says nothing back.
It hurts. All of this. I’m being punished by my own heart. With him returning. Making me say it out loud, all the words I didn’t jot down on that stupid piece of paper at the hotel.
Doesn’t he realize if things were different, I’d leap on him in a heartbeat? Some decisions, we can’t make on our own.
Sacrifice is the building block of every career.
Timothy takes a step back from me. Then he sets down the hat on a nearby table. I try not to see that as a goodbye. He goes to the door without a word, puts his hand on the knob, then stops.
“Quicksand,” he says.
I stare at his back, waiting.
“I heard your song,” he goes on. “I was on my way out those big stormy glass doors, giving up on finding you in the crowd … when I heard your song. It stopped me. Reeled me back in. Which I guess is a good thing seeing as it was raining buckets and I wasnotready to drive all the way home in it.” He glances back at me over his shoulder. “Was that a new song? And more importantly, was it about me?”
Of course it was, I want to tell him. Who else would it be about? Wily dug the hard bass line. Fiona played around with the chords a lot while popping jellybeans. Raj just had plain fun. We’d thrown it together this afternoon after I had the lyricsnailed, just like we used to do back in the day with Cam. It’d been years since I wrote a song so fast, a song that my bandmates clicked with right away—and the crowd ate it up.
I just didn’t expect Timothy to be part of that crowd.
“I take that as a yes,” he says to my stupefied face. “I just … couldn’t help but have a problem with it.”
That catches me. “With the song?”
“The whole thing sounds like you’re talking yourself out of the quicksand. But no one’s convinced. Least of all yourself. You have every intention of leaping into it. Letting yourself sink. So is that me?” He lets out a tiny breath—almost like a laugh. “Am I the evil quicksand?”
“No.”
“It sounded to me like I was the evil quicksand.”
I cross the room at once. “There ain’t nothin’evilabout you, Timothy, and it’s just a damned song.”
“Nothing’s just a damned song.” He turns his face to me, eyes sharp and sincere. “What I heard on that stage tonight waslonging. You don’t avoid dangers. You dive in headfirst. Just admit it. You don’t want this to end any more than I do.”
I swallow hard, eyes drifting to his lips again. “It doesn’t mean this is a good idea.”