Second to None, page 4
‘Do you even know what that means?’ I’d asked her, voice just as low as hers.
‘Kinda.’ Her sheepish expression firmed as she brushed a lock of stubborn hair out of her face. ‘Nana and granddad said he hurt you. So, I don’t like him.’
‘It’s not that simple,’ I’d said. Hmm. Also, my mum and dad would not have told Emily anything like that. ‘Hey, monkey, did you eavesdrop?’
‘No.’
I arched a brow at her.
‘I just wanted to get a snack,’ she said, defensive now. ‘So I went down to their kitchen, and I just happened to hear that Cass really hurt you, and that you’re still not over him.’
Not good. While I didn’t intend for Cass and Emily to meet, I didn’t want her to hate him on my behalf. So I’d told her that Cass was a good person, a wonderful person, and that we’d been simply too young. That yes, I’d loved him but I didn’t anymore. That I still cared for him, though, and it was important to keep this a secret—just between him, Emily and me.
She’d promised she wouldn’t tell a soul. ‘But you don’t love anyone else either,’ she’d said then, like she was still fitting pieces of a puzzle together.
‘I love you,’ I’d said and proceeded to tickle her until she was giggling and had all but forgotten about Cass.
First my kid, now Mason—neither of them really buying my line that I was over Cass. Well, I would go down with this ship. I was also mixing up my metaphors, tiredness making the ends of my thoughts stick together.
“I don’t mean a quick hookup here and there,” Mason said. “I’m talking someone important enough to meet your friends.”
“We both know how hard it is to trust that people are with you for the right reasons.”
Mason dipped his chin. “You mean friends or romantic partners?”
“Both, really.” I’d made a handful of casual friends at work and was friendly with some of the other parents. Only two school friends had survived my run with Neon Circuit, time zones and vastly diverging life experiences driving a wedge into all my other friendships from before the band. And then there were the other lads, of course. All but one.
It was a small social network, especially for someone who considered himself an extrovert. But it was enough for me.
“I know, yeah. Trust is hard to gain and easy to lose.” Mason settled more comfortably into the cushions. “Which proves my point, though: there hasn’t been anyone since Cass.”
“I’ve been busy. You know I needed some time to get my act together.” I’d needed to stop drinking, needed to stop feeling sorry for myself when most people would love to be in my shoes. “And then Jess got diagnosed, and dating was the last thing on my mind.”
“Yeah,” Mason said quietly. “That really sucked.”
They’d all been at the funeral—Mason and Ellis and Jace. Not Cass; he hadn’t known. I hadn’t wanted him to come out of some lingering sense of obligation, hadn’t wanted him to see me fall apart even more, so I’d asked the others not to tell him even though they’d tried to argue. Without his shining beacon to attract the moths, we’d managed to keep it out of the press.
“No matter what you think,” I told Mason, “I didn’t come here for Cass. This is for charity. For other people’s Jessicas and Emilys, who may get a chance at a cure.”
“One does not exclude the other, you know?”
I set my water down and focused my full attention on Mason. “Okay, mate. What are you actually saying here?”
He met my eyes, face uncommonly sombre. “You always take care of everyone else—the band back then, now Emily and your artists, and your parents too, a bit.”
“I like feeling useful.” I did. Focusing on others kept me from getting lost in my own head.
“Nothing wrong with that.” His smile was small, quietly wistful. “I just wish you had someone you could lean on at least once in a while.”
Ah, hell. I was too tired to sweep his words aside like I usually would. “What does any of that have to do with Cass?”
Mason lifted one shoulder. “Maybe nothing.”
“Well.” I pushed to my feet, vision swaying for a second before it steadied. “And on that vague note, I’m off to bed.”
”Sleep well, bro. Nice to have you here.” His voice softened. “It’s been too long.”
I exhaled. “Yeah, maybe.”
Maybe.
Marina del Rey, Thursday, August 14th
I didn’t want to be nervous. Unfortunately, my body hadn’t received the memo.
We dropped Emily off for surfing lessons she’d been nattering on about ever since catching a glimpse of some surfer adventure series, then made our way to the boat that Mason had rented for the day. Which…
“You rented a bloody boat.”
“You said that already.” He sounded unperturbed.
“It’s worth repeating.” I stared at the hazy morning sky, the sun a smudged fingerprint of brightness on a light blue canvas. “Seriously, what on earth made you think it’s a brilliant idea to have our first band reunion on a boat? As in, to have Cass and me meet again in a confined space like that? Wearing swimming trunks, most likely.”
“Like we said, we want to be seen, drum up some curiosity and excitement. What, worried you’ll combust at the sight of him down to his seaside best?” Mason’s voice held a teasing lilt. Zero sympathy, right this way.
“He’s still got a personal trainer. Meanwhile, I watch what I eat and go to the gym twice a week. It’s just not…” I fluttered a hand to convey the utter unfairness of having to face immediate evidence of how much our lives had diverged.
“You look fine, Levi,” Mason said as we pulled into the VIP section of the marina because some of us still qualified. A valet kid, no more than twenty and armed with a clipboard, directed us to park in front of a line of shiny cars. Yeah, I’d driven a Porsche once, too. Perfect car for a dad—if you ignored the fact that one stray juice box would have turned my beige leather seats into a Jackson Pollock.
“I don’t want to look fine,” I told Mason. “I want to look… I want to look like I’ve got it together, I guess.”
Hell, so much for last night’s claim that this wasn’t about Cass.
Mason’s expression softened. “You do, man. Show me anyone who says differently and I’ll kick their ass.” He hopped out before I could think of a response, infuriatingly at ease as though we were just popping to the corner shop rather than embarking on a day cruise that might put my heart through the shredder all over again.
Here goes fucking nothing.
I pulled myself together and stepped out, inhaling the sharp scent of the sea tinged with a hint of fuel. At the pier, a stretch of luxury yachts gleamed like a line-up of well-polished egos on water.
The valet showed us to our boat—all sleek lines and opulence, like it had been built to accommodate the world’s flashiest midlife crises. I stopped for a second to take it all in. Jesus, this was happening.
“Nothing says ‘secret band reunion’ like chartering a yacht the size of a football pitch, huh?” I asked Mason as we approached.
“Worst case”—he shot me a grin—“you can always jump ship and swim for the shore.”
“Your empathy is astounding.”
He slung an arm around my shoulders and hugged me close, voice pitched to a more serious level. “Relax, okay? I’m sure he’s just as nervous as you are.”
As if.
Before I could say as much, a crew member in pristine white appeared to lead us on board, her practised smile holding a faint edge of recognition. She showed us to a cushioned lounge area where Ellis was already waiting. No sign of Cass yet.
Ellis jumped up as soon as he caught sight of me, his entire face lit by a massive smile that shaved off five years. “Levi! Fuck, it’s good to see you.”
It was. I’d last seen him in person at Jessica’s funeral, two years ago. We’d spoken, of course, but with a toddler at home, he hadn’t made it back to Europe since.
I drew him into a tight hug, tipping my chin onto his shoulder. He smelled almost the same—same cologne, same warmth, only it now mixed with just a hint of nappy cream. From behind us, Mason complained about how he deserved a similar welcome, Ellis countering that they’d seen each other just a week ago so Mason needed to shut his trap. “Cool boat, though.”
“Thanks,” Mason said, pleased as though he’d personally designed and assembled it.
After another squeeze of my arms around Ellis, I let him go. “Don’t encourage him. Next he’ll set us up with a private chef and caviar service.”
“Caviar is disgusting,” Mason said, which, no, had not been my point. Any remark of mine to that effect died when Cass and Jace ambled up the dock.
Oh God. Cass.
He hadn’t changed—not really. His hair might be a little longer, swept back like he’d just stepped off some bloody stadium stage to the applause of tens of thousands. Same smile, amused by whatever Jace had just told him, this lopsided thing that projected casual ease if you didn’t look too closely.
I was. And my resolve to play it cool folded like a house of cards, stomach trapped halfway through a slow-motion somersault as his gaze flickered up. Our eyes met.
One second only, then he looked away. A hitch in his step? Maybe. Or maybe I’d imagined it. Fuck. I forced myself to stare past him, studying the iridescent light that danced across the water, heat prickling on the back of my neck.
What the hell was I doing here?
CHAPTER 4
Cass
Marina del Rey, Thursday, August 14th
Levi.
I’d had days—no, weeks to prepare myself for this moment. I’d laid it all out in my mind—how I’d send him a soft smile that would hint at everything I was going to tell him. I’m sorry. You’ve never left my mind. I wasn’t ready then but now I am, so if there’s even a snowball’s chance in hell that you still care, even just a little… Let me take you out. Whenever, wherever. Just say the word.
And then our eyes met.
It felt like a gut-wrenching drop. My entire body weightless, caught in a rollercoaster that dipped over the precipice, heart suspended in this infinite second. He looked older, sharper, face unreadable. Something about the tilt of his head and the way he angled his shoulders signaled a confidence that tripped me up. Want knifed through me, not sure whether it was nostalgia or this, him, now.
I dropped my gaze. Too fucking much. Jace was still talking, words like the gentle drip of rain against the window of a tour bus.
Somehow, I kept walking, each step a ripple in my blood. Up the ramp and onto the boat, sun in my eyes and shadows in my heart. Followed Jace’s lead just like I had on the very first song we’d ever recorded, his voice soaring higher as I wove around it and then took over. Levi came in on the chorus, Ellis and Mason and Jace harmonizing about our butterfly girl, about sunshine kisses and summer skies. Even then, I’d found my attention straying to the delicate bow of Levi’s upper lip, some feeling I had yet to name twining around the base of my spine, impossible and radiant.
The boat swayed with each step I took, at odds with the Pacific’s silken calm. Feverish warmth rose to my cheeks. Don’t fucking blow it.
I exhaled, inhaled. Smiled at the woman who pressed a drink into my hand, condensation a cool touch against my palm. Turned to the others—Ellis and Mason.
Levi.
“Cass,” he said, as if I’d spoken out loud.
I drew another breath. “Levi.”
Neither of us moved. We stared at each other, brief darkness shading the green of his eyes before he blinked and it was gone, like a closing shutter. I forced the corners of my mouth into an upward tilt he didn’t mirror.
Yeah. I hadn’t thought he’d make it easy. I didn’t deserve it.
“We ready, then?” Mason asked, voice deceptively light. Could have fooled me.
“Oh captain, my captain,” Ellis intoned, saluting Mason as Jace followed it up with, “Arr, mateys.”
God, I fucking loved them for trying. Tension still hung thick in the air, but it felt bearable now.
Levi cracked a grin so small it hardly counted, and I pinned my hopes on that tiny twitch of his lips, the faintest give in the tightness around his eyes.
After all—well. He was here, wasn’t he?
By the time we left the marina, the thrum of the engine a low hum in my bones, the day had burned through the morning haze. A clear, sunny sky arched above us, seagulls sailing on the stiff breeze.
We ate breakfast on the lounge deck, laughing at random shared memories, just friends hanging out, faking obliviousness as a photographer, tipped off by Mason’s assistant, circled our yacht in a much smaller boat. My gaze kept snagging on Levi and then sliding past, heart clenched into a fearful lump. It dredged up memories of that final, awful year—empty smiles for the cameras, throwing ourselves into each performance as though it might be our last. As soon as the curtain fell, our ever-moving bubble blocked from public view, silence had spread like fog, creeping in around the edges of our friendship, heavy with all the things we didn’t talk about.
But that was then.
“Can I talk to you?”
My question landed like a whisper, quiet and timid, yet Levi snapped around as though I’d punched him. Just the two of us, alone on the top deck. His attention fell to my naked chest and lower—to the curl of a tattoo on my left hip.
For just a moment, his expression slipped into something raw and open. He swallowed, mouth firming into a thin line as he looked up. “The Lyra constellation?”
Pressure pooled behind my sternum. “Yeah.”
Four stars connected in a rhombus shape and a fifth extending out at one end. The lyre of Orpheus, its music so beautiful it could move even the gods. Passion, longing, and creativity. A constant anchor in the nighttime sky.
We’d talked about it, back then—matching tattoos, hidden away so only we would know. Funny how that hadn’t scared me while love did. Anyway, we’d splintered apart before we could follow through. When I’d eventually had mine done, I wondered whether Levi would catch a glimpse of it, maybe flicking through some magazine, pausing at a shirtless vacation picture of me, and he’d see the tattoo and just… know. His face, though, showed surprise and confusion, a flicker of something else before he masked it all.
“You went ahead and got it on your own?” His words were neutral. “When?”
I almost missed it, time whittling away at the contours of how well I'd learned to read him—his shoulders drawing in just a fraction, a minute inward tilt as though he was bracing himself for a hit. It was how he’d sat through the regular meetings to review and tweak our individual images, through award shows when we presented the easy butt of a joke, hugely popular and kind of cute but somehow just not serious musicians, ya know?
Because Levi had cared what people thought, too. He’d just refused to let it rule his life.
“About a year ago,” I said, my voice so low it barely rose above the hum of the boat. I held his gaze, waiting for more—some clue as to why this bothered him. Did it make him uncomfortable, the idea that I might still be holding on?
“Closure?” he asked, still so damn neutral. I needed a moment before it made sense.
“No.” Too urgent. I paused to center myself, oddly soothed by the subtle dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “No. More… a reminder.”
Levi’s eyes narrowed very slightly, sunlight catching darker spots in his irises. “A reminder,” he repeated, no inflection whatsoever.
I resisted the impulse to cross my arms. “Of what it cost me—being too afraid to be true to myself.”
“What it cost you?” Finally, a flicker of emotion. Even though it was meant to cut, I’d take it.
“I could only speak for myself. Maybe, in hindsight, you were glad things had worked out this way?”
He snorted, bitterness twitching around his mouth. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Cass.”
Do you still care?
I didn’t have the guts to ask. Instead, I motioned at a beige lounge island off to one side of the deck, the glass railing offering uninterrupted views of the ocean’s shimmering expanse. “Can we sit down?”
He squinted at me, then gave a tiny shake of his head that seemed to be more at himself. “All right, I guess. But put a shirt on, will you?”
I bit back a joke about how, hey, does my chiseled chest make it hard to think? Not the moment, and Levi had a tendency to unleash his tongue when he felt backed into a corner. So I grabbed a shirt knotted around a chair, never mind that it was Jace’s, and slipped it on before I sank onto the bench. Levi slid in next to me, a careful distance between us that felt like an abyss. I blamed the gentle rocking of the boat for the unease that pooled in my stomach.
Silence. My gaze drifted to the coastline, softened by the midday glare and blurred into hazy shapes of land. A scattering of other boats dotted the water, their white hulls like dashes of punctuation on the vast blue page of the ocean.
When I turned back, Levi was studying me, his eyes sharp and face unreadable. The breeze caught the edge of his hair, ruffling it across his forehead. Backlit by the sun, he seemed ripped out of a dream. Here, up high and open to the elements, it felt like the world couldn’t touch us when of course it could, it had.
But he’d come.
“Thank you,” was how I reopened this impossible conversation.
“For…?”
“Being here. Willing to see me.”
“I’m not here for you, Cass.” Sharp as the crack of a whip, and yeah, ouch. I inhaled around the fluttering ache in my chest. He had every right.
“I know. That’s not how I meant it.”
“How did you mean it, then?”
Fitting that it hurt to look at him, the sun’s glare painting white spots across my vision. I didn’t reach for my sunglasses, though. “I know I’m not why you’re here, but I could have been your reason to stay away. It’d hardly be surprising.”
