Cassie’s breath caught.She opened her mouth, then shut it again, unsure what she’d meant to say.Her eyes closed instead, his words sinking in, not sure whether they were mending her back together or splitting her open all over again.
His hand came up, brushing away the tear she hadn’t realized had fallen.His thumb lingered, warm against the chill, and Cassie turned into his touch, her fingers catching around his wrist.
“Go get dry,” he murmured.“Shower.Wear whatever you want.I’ll toss your clothes in the wash.”
Cassie nodded, her hand slipping from him slowly.
Nash pulled back just as slow.
She hovered in the foyer, watching him disappear down the hall, his words echoing.
Still here.
Fresh from a shower, Cassie found Nash in the living room, crouched beside the coffee table, untangling the cord of an old boom box.
He looked up when she entered, his eyes catching on the oversized hoodie that nearly reached her knees, the sweatpants cinched tight at her waist—his clothing.His gaze lingered, heavy, before pulling back.
“Figured you might wanna play that tape,” he said.“Had this old thing in the garage.No idea if it works.”
“I know this ol' thing,” she said, kneeling beside him, her finger trailing over the beaten-up boom box, streaked with dried paint and grime.“Mav kept it at the shop.”
“Sure did.What else was the old man gonna use for his Willie tapes?”
Cassie pulled the cassette from her pocket and, instead of handing it over, just stared down at it.
Her mother…God.Even with Connor gone, the house stripped bare, and Nash dredging up old wounds, she still hadn’t let herself go anywhere near her mother’s memory.
But now, in the quiet after the funeral, in the hush of whatever this was between her and Nash…
Cassie’s hand tightened around the cassette.Maybe she could finally—
“Cas.”
Her eyes lifted to Nash.
“It’s all right to miss her,” he said, then grimaced like the words tasted wrong.“And still be mad.Ain’t gotta be one or the other.”
He scrubbed a hand over his beard and exhaled through his nose.“Shoulda said that a long time ago, but…” He shook his head once.“Truth is, I didn’t know it myself.Not ’til…hell—”
“Not ’til Con.”
Cassie’s teeth sank into the inside of her cheek, copper flooding her tongue.She knew he was right—but knowing it didn’t make it hurt less.
“Connor didn’t leave on purpose.”The words splintered as they tumbled free, catching on a sharp breath.“He didn’t…he didn’t just leave—”
She broke off, voice turning ragged.“No.He did.He left.Just fucking left.And now…now…”
The words came faster, harder.
“All I can see is him on that table lookin’ like a skeleton, and the goddamn wreck he made of our house and—” Her breath caught.“It’s not even our house anymore.”
Her throat burned, but the words kept spilling out.“And he knew.He knew I couldn’t come back here and not fuckin' drown in it.He knew, and he left anyway.Just like she did.Just like they all did.Just like everybody does.
As her last words rang through the room, a faint click cut through the silence.The reels spun, a reedy hum slipping from the speakers asCoal Miner’s Daughterbegan to play.
Cassie glanced down, startled.The cassette was gone, replaced by Nash’s hand wrapped firm around hers.When she looked up, his eyes were waiting, holding her as the song filled the room.
Her mother had sung it constantly.Cassie could see her now—dark curls pinned up, hips swaying as she danced around the house, broom in hand.
