“Do they know he’s in Bear Valley?” I ask.
“That’s not public. He’s off tour, but everyone knows he’s about to film this movie. The casting has been on every entertainment news site for a while.”
“Does he deal with that a lot? Over eager fans?” I ask.
“Lots of letters and social media stuff, but he has people to buffer that,” Caleb assures me. “Our job is to let him live his life as much as possible. But, you know how it is. One pic on social media and everyone will know he’s in Bear Valley. Luckily, there are lots of celebrities out here or in Vail or Aspen, coming and going with the ski season, so no one will think twice about one more.”
I let my gaze drift over to where Cas is joking with Jack. They are standing over by my couch, and Cas keeps touching my favorite acoustic Fender like he wants to play it. I see his fingers reach out to it a few times, but he pulls them back like he realizes it’s not his. But, within a few beats his fingers are there again, lingering this time near the frets.
I left that guitar in here, like I tend to do. My Fender sort of follows me around like a house cat. That doesn’t matter when you live alone. I never have to worry about someone touching it.
Cas, of course, is most comfortable with an instrument in his hand and he’s looking at my Fender as his emotional support guitar.
I see Jack gesture to it, he must have noticed Cas’s hands too, and Cas’s eyes lock with mine.
Fuck, I’m going to let him play my guitar. There isn’t even a question. I’m not sure I would let my brothers do this, if it was one of them asking.
When he gives a little shrug and tilts his head, I just nod mine in response. Typical Cas way of asking. The smile in return is so raw and thankful, like we are sharing some small intimacy right here across the living room.
Something shifts in that moment, I just don’t know what. What I do know is that Cas on my couch strumming my guitar doesn’t hurt near as much as I would have thought.
We all drift closer, pulled in by that crazy energy Cas can have. Cas idly strums a few disconnected chords, and a few bars I start to recognize before he switches it up.
“What can I play for you?” Cas asks, and no one speaks up at first. “Jack?” he pushes.
Jack and Perrin are wrapped up in one another on the couch, even closer as they prepare for the baby on the way. I’ve noticed it over the past few weeks, how they don’t seem to be able to not touch each other in some way.
“U2’sLove Rescue Me,” Jack says quietly, lacing his fingers with Perrin’s. “Baylor played it at our wedding.”
“Of course, he did. Bee always loved that song. He’s a romantic.” He sends a smile my way, and it isn’t the photo-ready one, but a real one I haven’t seen in a long time. Cas gives a little move of his head for me to come closer.
This is what I am dreading. The reminiscing. The memories. There’s just too much pain there.
I shake my head slightly, waving off his invitation to join in.
It could mean sitting close. It could mean joining him in the song.
Just. . .not yet. I’ll get there, but it’s not today.
“Let’s see if I can do it justice,” Cas says, a little frown jumping off his face before turning back to a smile.
He does, of course. I have always loved this song about love beyond faith and family, but the way Cas sings it makes it something more. About love transforming us when it refuses to let go.
Later, when everyone is gone and everything is cleaned up, I turn off all the lights and stop in the kitchen for a glass of water before heading to bed myself. Cas already went up and the house is quiet.
I look at the bright night sky I can see from my kitchen window. Sometimes, after my family has been here like this, the silence can stretch. Tonight, it doesn’t. The melancholy pull isn’t in my chest.
“You okay, Bee?”
I turn and stare at Cas in nothing but pajama pants and a t-shirt. Socks on his feet. He looks just like the gorgeous guy I always knew, not like a rockstar.
“Just finishing up before I head to bed.”
He comes closer, and my body lights up, so damn happy to have him close again. I swear I could be blindfolded and my body would still recognize his versus any other. Even without touching him.
“Today was amazing. I haven’t had such a good time in a long time.”
“You are going to be sore tomorrow from the skiing, I’m afraid.”
