“Curious?Not even on a dare.”She wrenched the mic free, flashing the crowd a grin.“Now who’s ready for some real tunes?”
Crusher stood there a moment, then threw his hands up and stalked off the stage.
“We’re gonna sing somethin’ for my girl Cassie over there,” Luanne continued, poking at the machine, the first few bars of “Take Me Home, Country Roads” spilling through the speakers.
“Who’s been gone a long damn time and deserves one hell of a welcome home!”
When Luanne started to sing, the noise in the bar began to shift—voices lowering, talk dying off.By the time she climbed into the next line, half the place was already singing along.By the time the chorus came, the whole place had joined in—some raising their drinks, others singing with their eyes closed.
Somewhere in the middle of it, Shawna had drifted back to the bar.She leaned into Nash’s side, singing along, her hand tracing the hem of his cut.He barely noticed; his eyes were on Cassie.
She’d risen from her seat, standing among Becca and a few others, eyes bright, singing along with everyone else.Only…as the last verse rolled in, she whispered something to Becca and started through the crowd.Head down, she cut past the bathroom and quickly shoved out the side door.
Nash watched it swing shut, telling himself to leave it.
She didn’t want him near her, didn’t want a damn thing from him.
But even as he thought it, he was already on his feet, setting Shawna aside.
The final chorus rose as he slipped through the door, the ballad of West Virginia chasing him out into the dark.
Cassie burst out the side door of Shooter’s and into the night, the music spilling out after her before cutting off with a slam.She staggered a few steps into the gravel lot, breath ragged, skin burning, before catching herself on the side of somebody’s pickup.
She pressed her fingers to her temples.Breathe.It’s just a stupid song.Just breathe.
But there wasn’t enough air.
And it wasn’t just a stupid song.
And over it all—Nash.At the bar.With that fucking blonde.
Her pulse kicking hard, she fumbled her phone from her bag, thumb shaking as she found Jordan’s name.One a.m.here—seven a.m.there.She hesitated only a second before hitting call.It rang once, then—
“Cassandra Berry—I was one missed call away from sending a fucking search party to West Virginia,” Jordan snapped, her voice sharp in that fast, flat New York way that made everything sound like a crisis—even when it wasn’t.Her oldest friend from her new life; they’d met as interns at the Hudson Philharmonic and built the Gemini Ensemble from the ground up.
Still, Cassie didn’t answer right away.She didn’t know what to say—or if there were even words for any of it.Just feelings.Too many.Too goddamn much.
“Cassie?”Jordan said again.“Cas, you still there?”
Cassie’s jaw clenched, throat tight, her other hand gripping the truck bed like she might fall if she let go.“I’m here,” she finally managed, voice barely above a whisper.
Jordan paused.“Are you all right?”
“No.”
“Okay.Are you…safe?”
Cassie squeezed her eyes shut.“Yes.”
When she didn’t say more, Jordan let out a breath.“Babydoll…talk to me.Tell me what’s going on—I can’t help if I don’t know what’s happening.”
“I don’t…” Cassie broke off and opened her eyes.“I don’t want to talk about any of it right now.I just needed to hear your voice.”
“Well,” Jordan replied gently, “you could’ve answered any one of the twenty-five thousand texts I sent.”
“I know.”
“I called too.I was even considering messaging you on Boomer-book.”
