The bell jingled as Chase and Amelia stepped into Summers Brew. It was a weak welcome after a week spent under the clinical hum of VIM test streams and shifting set reconfigurations. Chase placed his briefcase on the counter.
“Top of the morning, Tabitha,” Chase said. “Got any fresh insults saved up for the billable hours, or are we starting slow today?”
Tabitha didn’t look up from the espresso machine. “I ration them, Wright. It’s a valuable but volatile resource, and you’ve already used up your monthly quota.” She scrawled TUNED OUT on Chase’s cup and GOOD MUSIC TASTE on Amelia’s.
As Chase fished for change, Tabitha stared listlessly at the counter, her shoulders dropping. “Apparently, I can’t get a license because no one in this town has the time to risk their life,” she muttered.
Chase blinked, pausing mid-reach. “That feels targeted. Am I the ‘no one’ in this scenario?”
Amelia perked up immediately. “Wait—you don’t have a driver’s license, Tabs? Perfect solution. Chase, you should teach her. You’re always going on about freedom and stuff.”
Chase laughed once, then stopped. “That’s a funny bit, Ames..”
“I’m serious,” Amelia said, nudging his arm with a grin. “What’s more liberating than helping a friend gain their independence? Your patient.”
Tabitha snorted, finally meeting their eyes. “That’s the funniest lie I’ve ever heard. Him? Patient?”
Chase groaned, looking between the two of them. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” he muttered, grabbing his coffee. “But for the record, if my insurance premium spikes, I’m billing both of you.”
When Tabitha’s shift ended, the sky had wrung itself into a clearer, bruised gray.
Chase sat in the passenger seat of his Acura, his hands gripped tightly in his lap with Amelia in the backseat waving Tabitha over.
“Your chariot awaits,” Amelia called.
Tabitha blinked. “I walk.”
“Not today,” Amelia said, grinning. “Today you drive.”
Chase leaned over the console. “Against my better judgment.”
Tabitha slid into the driver’s seat adjusting it in jerky, uncertain motions.
“Seatbelt,” Chase barked immediately.
“She hasn’t even turned the car on,” Amelia teased.
“Seatbelt first,” Chase insisted. “Safety is non-negotiable.”
Tabitha rolled her eyes, clicking hers into place. “Happy, Dad?”
Chase pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thrilled. Adjust your mirrors.”
“She’s got this,” Amelia said, leaning forward. “Relax.”
Chase shot her a look in the mirror. Amelia grinned back.
Tabitha caught the look. Her stomach twisted as she gripped the wheel. “You two done?”
“Never,” Amelia said lightly. “Go on. Turn him on…I mean turn it on.”
Tabitha turned the key, and the engine hummed to life. She shifted into drive and pressed the gas a second too fast; the Acura lurched forward. Chase clutched the dashboard. “Easy! Gentle—gentle! It’s a gas pedal, Tabs, not a bass drum.”
“You’re making her nervous,” Amelia laughed, reaching over the seat to give Tabitha a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “She’s fine. The car is fine. We’re all fine.”
“I am not fine,” Chase muttered. “This is a fine piece of Japanese workmanship, not a bumper car.”
“It’s just a glorified Accord, Chase,” Amelia said.
Chase threw her a look in the rearview mirror. “Spoken like someone who’s never watched a teenager nearly take out a mailbox.”
Tabitha raised an eyebrow, letting the car glide forward with a bit more grace. “I wouldn’t take out a mailbox. Unless it deserved it.”
Amelia laughed into her sleeve. “See? She’s got your sarcasm and my optimism. It’s the best of both worlds, really.”
They rolled through the quiet suburban streets of Orangeside. Chase micromanaged every blinker and every turn, while Amelia countered him with steady encouragement from the back. It was chaotic, loud, and surprisingly normal.
Then Tabitha reached for the radio.
–
I think you’re scared of being basic
That’s ironic ’cause it’s reading like you’re even more basic
It’s not funny, it’s so funny
‘Cause you’re basic
Just looking hot and keeping monotone and understated nothingness
Won’t change it
Chase recoiled. “Oh no. Nope. Absolutely not!”
Tabitha’s hand froze. “It’s DJO.”
“It’s aggressively self-aware,” Chase said. “It’s like the song knows it’s better than me and won’t shut up about it. This is exactly the kind of thing Samara used to play—music that smirks at you while you’re trying to have a day.”
Tabitha’s shoulders slumped, and she switched the station to a static-filled top-40 hit, her cheeks burning. In the mirror, Amelia caught Chase’s eye and gave a tiny, sympathetic wince. You hurt her feelings, the look said. I’m saving her ears, Chase’s look replied.
They pulled into an empty stretch of curb so Tabitha could practice parking. She hadn’t even aligned the bumper with the curb yet when Chase’s phone buzzed in the console. He glanced at the screen and went still.
“Vincenzo,” Chase groaned. He answered, holding the phone away from his ear as the man’s voice exploded through the cabin. “WRIGHT! Tell me you saw the new metrics! The engagement is vertical!”
Chase stepped out of the car to finish the call, leaving Amelia and Tabitha in a sudden, heavy quiet.