Cassie huffed—barely a breath.
“I didn’t want to come,” she admitted hoarsely.“Isn’t that fucked?I didn’t want to come back…even for my own brother.”
She tipped her head back, blinking at the stars swimming overhead.
“And I know that probably makes me sound like a horrible person—and maybe I am.But…there’s just so much shit here.Stuff I haven’t even told you.And I don’t know how to do any of this.Funerals.Goodbyes.I’ve never known how…
“It doesn’t even feel like it’s really happening to me, you know?”The words were pouring out fast now—the tears too.“I don’t even feel like me; I feel like…fuck, I don’t even know who I am here,” she whispered.“Everything’s familiar but not, and…everything just…everything just…hurts.”
There was a pause.Then Jordan’s voice came through softer than Cassie had ever heard it.“Cassie, there isn’t a chance in hell you’re ever going to be able to convince me that you’re a bad person.And nobody knows how to say goodbye.Not one single soul.Everything you just described—that’s grief, baby doll.It busts in and turns everything upside down and inside out.
“And don’t give me that crap about not knowing who you are.It doesn’t matter where you are—you’re still you.You’re still the same intern who threw her bow at Maestro Delvecchio because he told you Mahler shouldn’t be played ‘so dramatically.’
“And you’re still the same lunatic who stopped an entire dress rehearsal to accuse the percussion section of espionage—and—”
“Okay, I get it!”Cassie cut her off, smiling through her tears.“I’m crazy.Thank you for the unnecessary reminder.”
“Yes, you’re crazy—and crazy talented, and crazy wonderful and crazy fun.That’s why we all love you.”
“Fuck,” Cassie whispered, her eyes burning.“I really miss you guys.I’d give anything to be…not here.”
“And we miss you.”Jordan paused, then added, “Oh, and Marta wants me to tell you she misses you more than me, but we all know she’s a liar.”
Marta Schvittinger was one of the Ensemble’s many international prodigies—a flutist from Leipzig, Germany, with perfect pitch and a perfectionist streak that drove everyone up the wall.
Marta’s voice rang out in the background, sharp and indignant in her thick German accent: “Ich bin keine Lügnerin, du dumme Kuh!”
There was a scuffle, followed by a string of loud curses, and then Marta’s voice exploded in Cassie’s ear.“Your sub is butchering your solo.Slap pizzicato.In Dvorák!He’s like an octopus!”
“And Cassie?”she continued, voice rising.“He wears fingerless gloves.Fingerless!If you don’t think I miss you now, then—du bist verrückt!”
“Just put her on speaker, Marta!”Jordan was shouting in the background.“Marta—give me back my phone, you absolutely unhinged—”
More rustling and unintelligible shouting.Then—
“Okay,” Jordan huffed.“You’re on speaker, Cas.Everyone’s yelling.Marta might be throwing things.Welcome back to the daily fucking chaos that is the Geminis.”
“Tell her I will kill this man with his own bow,” Marta declared.“Slowly.”
“She can hear you,” Jordan replied dryly.
“The whole arrondissement can hear you, dear Marta,” a crisp accent chimed in.“You’re lucky we French are used to such passionate repertoire, or someone might think you’re insane.”
Cassie blinked.“Oh my god—Étienne?You little shit!I didn’t know you were in Paris!”
“As I’ve texted, I’m here for the Ravel series,” he replied, “and to supervise the musical crimes being committed in your absence.Will I see you in Prague, mon chérie?”
Cassie laughed through fresh tears.Étienne wasn’t part of the Geminis; commitment wasn’t really his thing.He came and went as he pleased—most often as a guest soloist with the Orchestre de Paris, because apparently being brilliant meant you could make your own rules.
God.She really should’ve called someone days ago.At the very least, she could’ve answered one of their messages.Instead, she’d let them pile up until even the thought of replying felt impossible.
Jordan’s voice cut back in.“Cas, we’re about to walk into warm-ups—do you need me to skip?”
“No,” she replied quickly.“I’m good—I’ve got people waiting on me anyway.Go to rehearsal—I’ll call tomorrow.”
“I love you, bestie, but no offense if I don’t believe you.Your communication skills are even more dismal than usual at the moment.”
“I know—I’m sorry—”
