One more song, and then Caspian can drive Noah and me home.
The last song isOne Last Kiss,Caspian’s request. I can see him now, front row center, Noah perched on his shoulders, grinning up at me like I’m doing something brave. The sight hits me with a rush of affection.
I wouldn’t even be standing here tonight without Caspian.One Last Kisswould still be gathering digital dust in some forgotten laptopfolder instead of showing up in teenagers’ celebrity-crush edits.
The song is about Xaden, my ex. About how he left four years ago and split my heart in half. It’s a pretty basic heartbreak song: melody, ache, repeat. But somehow it became a thing, and now it’s my livelihood. I don’t usually sing it in public. Too raw. Still hurts, not like before, but enough. Even seeing his name pop up in a hurried text, like the one Caspian sent me a couple nights ago, makes my chest ache.
If it really was Xaden Caspian spotted, he’s hanging out with two guys Caspian said looked like Beavis and Butt-Head. I didn’t ask for clarification. I don’t want to know.
Because I’m so over Xaden Bailey.
That’s what I tell people.
That’s what I tell myself.
So what if my pulse jumps every time someone says his name.
XADEN
“Yo, Bailey. You awake?” JJ waves a hand in front of my face, his fingernails stained yellow from nicotine. Ronnie chuckles and strokes his damn knife like it purrs. The sound of his laughter makes my skin crawl, and JJ’s gravelly voice grates on my nerves.
JJ’s a tall, mean ex-con, inked up to his neck with crude prison tats, twitchy if he goes more than five minutes without a smoke. Late twenties, violent streak a mile wide.
Ronnie’s older, shorter, muscle packed onto his frame, with no ink, no hair, and no morals.
They are the Craven cousins and they never shut up. The only thing they agree on? If Big Sam says jump, they don’t ask how high: they’re already in the air.
The same rules apply to me, whether I like it or not.
“Late night,” I shrug, stretching slow, lazy, like I don’t have a care in the world.
JJ smirks. “Maybe if you weren’t so busy screwing everyone you meet, we’d find Mike sooner.”
“Come on, I’ve got standards,” I protest. I tip my chin, smirk sharp as a blade. “It has to breathe and say please.”
Their laughter is sharp-edged, not belly-deep. I laugh too. It feels like chewing glass, but I do it. One wrong silence, and I’m dead.
“Got a tip on Mike,” JJ says, checking his phone. “Kieran says he might try to sneak out of Baywood tonight. Some big-ass music festival goin’ on.”
I know. The Baywood Music Festival. I used to go with Cole; first as friends, then for one golden summer as his boyfriend. He let me hold his hand even with people watching, and I knew it wasn’t easy for him. Having a gay son who dated a Bay Hollow kid wasn’t ‘ideal’ in Cole’s family. Holding hands in public was a big deal, Cole kissing me behind Pell’s t-shirt booth even bigger. I can still taste the melted ice cream when I licked a smudge from his jaw, still feel his blush burn against my lips.
Ronnie perks up. “Might be good for pocket-pickin’.”
JJ smacks him. “You trying to get shipped back to the pen? Sam said avoid attention. Dumbass.”
“Ah, Bay Pen,” I say lightly when Ronnie smacks JJ back. I tilt my head, grin crooked. “Loved the showers.”
JJ rolls his eyes. Then, casually, “You in when they brought those Broad River psychos?”
I hear the trap in his voice. “Plenty of psychos to go around. The biggest one was guard Willis.”
Ronnie flips his knife open and shut, eyes narrowing. “Been thinkin’. One year, and you get parole? Good behavior, my ass. Who’d you screw?”
I meet his gaze, fists tightening. I shrug. Force a smirk, let my voice drop filthy low. “If screwing my way out was a thing, I’d have been first in line.”
JJ laughs. Ronnie tucks the knife away. “Let’s go get that son of a bitch.”
I jump into the back of JJ’s rusty pickup, breathing in the honeysuckle drifting in from the lake. For a second, I almost forget the smoke and sweat around me. Almost.
