The tight pack of people gave way as they turned a corner, space opening between tents, some of the noise easing with it.
Luanne had spread her wares across a couple of tables, secondhand everything piled together with no real order to it.She was busy arguing with a customer while Becca hovered nearby with a baby propped on one shoulder, the older two running wild around the display.
“Benny and Beau—give it a rest!Where’d your goddamn daddy run off to now?Oh—hey, Cas, Nash.See you at the show?”
Cassie lifted a thumb in answer just as her attention snagged on a small table tucked between two larger setups where hand-carved instruments rested in loose rows.The fiddle drew her in—dragonflies hand-carved along the body, the way the dark varnish caught the waning light.It made her think of her mama’s old piece, the one with the flowers cut into the wood, handcrafted just for her.
She paused, fingers brushing the curve, tracing the neck, catching the smoothness from years of use.While the varnish looked immaculate and the strings new, the weight of it—the feel—was much older.
“Beautiful,” she murmured, already picturing it under stage lights, the sound of it carrying clean through Carnegie Hall.
The thought hit her strangely.She’d already told Jordan to finish the summer without her—that she’d be back in the city come fall.After that…she hadn’t let herself look.
Couldn’t, if she was being honest.
“How much?”Nash cut in.
Cassie glanced up sharply to find him pulling his wallet free, thumbing through a wad of cash and handing over a stack.“This enough?”
The old man’s eyes widened.“Well, I’d say that’s more than enough.You want a couple harmonicas too—”
“Nash.”She bumped his hip with hers.“You don’t even know if I want it.”
“Hell, I don’t.I know that look.Least now I don’t gotta steal it.”
While the old man ducked down, Cassie watched Nash put his wallet away.There’d been a time he wouldn’t have even bothered asking the price—or paying at all.He’d have swiped it off the table and flashed that crooked grin when she called him on it, daring her to take it back.
Back when neither of them had a damn thing extra.
“Belonged to my wife, God rest her.”The old man returned with a worn case, popping it open to show the velvet lining, the bow tucked inside.Settling the fiddle in carefully, he handed it over.
“Strings are new.She’s tuned sweet.You’ll take good care of her, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” Cassie promised, clutching the case to her chest while Nash drew her back against his side.She wasn’t a collector—one instrument for the stage, one for travel, one in case something went wrong.But this one felt different somehow.Like maybe it had been waiting for her too.
Beyond the food vendors, the festival opened into a stretch of old muscle cars and beat-up classics with their hoods up, locals crowded around the engines arguing over them.Farther down, chrome flashed in the dying light where the Kings had lined up their bikes—some for sale, others there strictly to show off.
“Sarge’ll be over there somewhere,” Nash muttered, already angling toward the club setup.
Before he could drag her all the way in, Cassie slipped loose and wandered toward Boone instead, where he sat with his leg stretched out in front of him, boot planted, beer dangling from one hand.
Nearby, Crusher leaned against a bike, arms crossed, staring off toward Luanne’s booth like someone shot his dog.
“How’s the leg?”Cassie asked, nodding.
Boone lifted his beer.“Healin’ up nice.Doc Willis says I won’t even have a limp.”
Cassie’s brow shot up.“You’re seein’ Margie’s vet?Does he typically deal with a lot of bullet wounds?”
Boone took a slow drink.“Cas,” he said, chuckling, “this is West by God Virginia.Man’s stitched up half the county.”
“Damn straight,” Crusher muttered.“Bullet wounds probably ain’t even top five.”
She turned to the big man, following his line of sight to where Luanne was still arguing with a customer, hands flying.
“Crush—why you starin’ at Luey like that?”
“Because,” he muttered sullenly, “she said I was a one-night stand.And, hell, I got some pride.Ain’t never talkin’ to her again.”
