Page 20 of What They Say

Vic’s voice snapped him back to the present. They were in Slate’s studio, running through a new arrangement for the third time. The rest of the band was watching him expectantly.

“Sorry,” Chase muttered, adjusting the strap on his guitar. “Mind’s somewhere else.”

Benny raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. “You good, man?”

“Yeah. Just distracted.” He grinned, thinking of Kath’s smile. “Might happen again, but I’ll put in the effort, promise.”

Distracted was an understatement. He’d driven past the diner twice yesterday like some kind of creep, hoping to catch another glimpse of that bike. He hadn’t seen it. Hadn’t seen her.

After rehearsal wrapped, Chase lingered while the others packed up. Vic hung back, wiping down his kit with a towel.

“You’ve been off the last couple days,” Vic said quietly. “Everything all right with the club? Or is there something else?”

Chase hesitated. Vic had become one of the few people he actually trusted to shoot straight with him.

“I met a girl,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “At the diner the other morning. She was riding one of Bear’s custom jobs, a sharp-looking blue-and-white beauty. We talked for a while. She was different. Talking to her was different.”

Vic’s grin spread, slow and knowing. “Different how?”

“Smart. Funny in that sharp way but never mean. Didn’t seem impressed by the whole ‘Mason’s kid in a band’ thing. Called me out for staring at her bike.” Chase let out a short laugh. “Didn’t even try to play it cool. Just totally real.”

Vic nodded, understanding flickering across his face. “Sounds like someone worth pursuing.”

“Yeah.” Chase stared at the floor. “Problem is, I don’t know her last name. Don’t know where she works. Just ‘Kath.’”

Vic clapped him on the shoulder. “Fort Wayne’s not that big. And if she’s riding Bear’s bike, he probably knows who she is. Ask him.”

Chase hadn’t thought of that. Hope flared in his chest, the feeling sharp and unfamiliar.

Later that evening, he found Bear in the garage, elbow-deep in an old bike.

“Hey, big man,” Chase said, leaning against the workbench. “That blue-and-white custom you finished a while back...who ended up with it?”

Bear straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. He tipped his head to the side as he looked at Chase. “Why? You finally gonna stop pretending you don’t notice pretty girls on bikes?”

Chase felt his ears heat. “Just curious.”

Bear chuckled. “Girl’s name is Kath. Kathleen, I think. Tough kid. Friend of a friend’s little sister. Saved up her own money for it. Doesn’t take shit from anybody.” He eyed Chase knowingly. “She got under your skin already?”

“Something like that,” Chase admitted.

Bear nodded towards the house. “She works at The Grindhouse downtown. Coffee shop. Shifts are kinda random, but she’s usually there afternoons.”

Chase felt that pull again—stronger this time. Not just curiosity. Something deeper. Like the same instinct that told him when a riff was right.

“Thanks, Bear.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Bear called after him as Chase headed for his truck. “That girl’s got walls higher than Mason’s. Good luck, kid.”

Chase climbed into his loud, club-modified truck and sat there for a moment, engine rumbling. He thought about all the reasons he should let it go. He was still figuring out his place in OY. Still proving he wasn’t just riding on the coattails of his father’s name. Adding a girl, especially one who seemed as guarded as he was, felt like asking for complications.

But then he remembered the way she’d looked at him across the diner booth. Like she saw him. Not Mason’s son. Not the new guy in the band.

Just Chase.

He shifted into gear and pointed the truck towards downtown.

Some things were worth chasing.