I hesitated.“I have a few things to finish with my last contracts...but no.I am writing my story.Mom told me to.Said maybe it’s the one I was always meant to tell.”
Chase hummed, gazing forward.“And how’s that feel?”
“Raw.Messy.Like bleeding on paper.”
He nodded like he understood, even if he didn’t.
We walked a little more until he added, a little too casually, “Anything going on with Brody?”
I stopped dead.“Wow.Subtle.”
His mouth twitched.“Just asking.”
“Is this where you stake your claim on the childhood best friend?”
He chuckled.“No.”Then his expression shifted, becoming awkward and searching.“It’s just… Brody’s been through his own shit, too.I worry about him.”
Heat flared in my chest.“Wait, are you worried about me hurting Brody?What the actual fuck, Chase?”
“Not like that.”He raked a hand through his hair.“I just want you both to be okay.I don’t want either of you… using the other to fill space.”
I shoved his shoulder, half annoyed, half amused.“You’re infuriating.”
He grinned, smug as always.“Family trait.”
The fundraiser at Adam’s was already buzzing when I walked in with Chase and Clara.The pub smelled like fire and fried onions, the clink of glasses underscoring laughter and chatter.My mom was in her element, clipboard in hand, commanding a small army of volunteers.Dad stuck close, his presence solid at my side, while Chase hovered like a hawk.Clara and Mason weren’t far, her hand in his, a fragile truce still holding.
It should have felt safe.But the stares, the whispers, I could feel them like static against my skin.Every laugh felt sharper, every sideways glance louder.
I sipped my drink and tried not to bolt.
Then the opening chords of “Rumor” by Lee Brice rolled through the speakers, the bass line vibrating through the floor.
Before I could think, Brody was there.“Come dance with me, Cassidy.”
His hand slid into mine, warm and sure, and before I could second-guess it, I was already being pulled onto the makeshift dance floor.
The song wrapped around us, low and husky, the bass thrumming in my chest.He didn’t ask where I wanted to stand, didn’t hesitate, he just tugged me closer, his arm curving around my waist like he’d been waiting years to do it.
I could feel every stare, every whisper buzzing at the edges of the room, but the second his chest pressed against mine, all of it blurred.
He didn’t say a word.Neither did I.His eyes never left mine.
I was acutely aware of everything: the heat of his palm against the small of my back, the slow rise and fall of his breath, the faint scent of cedar and soap clinging to him.I felt my body soften, betraying me, as if it remembered something my head hadn’t let me hope for.
The lyrics hit the chorus, the crowd humming along, but I only heard the silence between us.It said more than the music ever could.
And then I opened my stupid mouth.
“I had a crush on you when I was younger.”
The words landed like a stone in still water, rippling out between us.
His brows lifted slightly, but his grip on me didn’t falter.I panicked.“I mean, it’s fine.You didn’t notice.You weren’t supposed to notice.Age difference and all.Totally normal.I just, God, forget I said that.”The words tumbled out faster, heat rushing up my neck.“Really, please, just forget it.”
His chest rumbled against me, a quiet chuckle that melted and unravelled me in the same breath.He bent his head, his lips brushing the edge of my hairline.“Relax, Cass.”
I stilled.
