18. Cass
CHAPTER 18
Cass
L AX, Saturday, August 30th
The first time Levi and I had broken up—no, the only time we had, because apparently, this time hadn’t meant anything, just a bit of fun because I was a good lay, right, and yeah, that fucking hurt , God, and I—I needed to slow down my brain. Jet lag and exhaustion blended into a mismatched choir of thoughts and impressions.
Inhale, count to three.
Exhale.
Time to smile for the cameras, pretend it was all jolly good , as Levi’s dad would say in this fake posh accent that always made Emily laugh. Anyway—if I was going through the main terminal to deflect attention from her and Levi, I might as well try to look like he hadn’t just handed back my heart with a ‘return to sender’ note. I had years of acting under my belt, after all.
Sunglasses protected me from the staccato brightness of flashing cameras. Frank carved a path for me, but his bulk couldn’t hold back the noise. I raised my head and smiled, not a fucking care in the world . I wasn’t a pretty crier anyway, all red, hectic splotches on my cheeks and swollen eyes.
“This way,” Frank said, and I followed on autopilot, everything disconnected, reality a blur each time I blinked. One foot in front of the other, and it somehow jolted me back to that moment I’d caught sight of Levi again for the first time in five years—how he’d looked both different and the same, sharper and more confident yet achingly familiar, like all he’d done was take a quick walk around the block.
Frank steered me toward the car. I sank into the backseat, grateful for this slice of silence and the tinted windows that blocked out the world. Tried to grasp at slipping thoughts, a beginning I hadn’t taken anywhere.
The last time Levi and I had broken up, the only time, we didn’t lean on the other three guys so we wouldn’t drag them down with us. Which, yeah—roaring success there. But in some twisted sense, he and I had still had each other—the way we’d clawed and bitten and torn at skin, the words we’d swallowed, because at least he’d been there for those final, terrible months.
This time, I just… couldn’t.
But sharing friends meant that sometimes it was a rotation of confidants. Band fights had been like that—if Jace and Ellis squabbled like teenage siblings, one would vent to Mason and the other to Levi or me, and sooner rather than later, it would blow over. This was worse than a stupid fight caused by cabin fever. It cut right to the core, but our invisible treaty held true.
‘Did Levi talk to you?’ I asked Mason, tired letters winking at me as I typed them.
He replied almost immediately, just as the car pulled into traffic. ‘Yes. But Ellis is on standby, and Jace can fly over.’
I blinked stupid, hopeless tears from my eyes. ‘Best friends ever.’
‘You’d do the same.’
‘Any time, any day.’
‘We know. Sleep first?’
My body was one big, tired ache, thoughts like molasses. ‘Yeah. I’ll call El tomorrow, see if he can do breakfast.’
‘He says he’ll be there at nine.’
‘Thank you,’ I wrote, and what I really meant was, ‘Love you, you’re the best.’
‘You too,’ he replied, which really just proved how well he knew me. They all did.
I pressed my head back against the seat, closed my eyes, and tried to stop thinking.
* * *
Beverly Hills, Sunday, August 31st
This coffee was absolute fucking crap .
Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe my taste buds had been permanently altered by, what, six days in Sardinia? The moka pot there hadn’t even been that fancy, nothing like my top-of-the-line barista marvel that Levi had researched because he cared about things like that, was much better at making a place into a home. Our bedroom—my bedroom—still looked like he’d only just stepped out. Pathetic .
That was how Ellis found me—out by the pool, glaring at my coffee as though it had personally wronged me.
He carried a mug of his own, must have stopped in the kitchen first after letting himself in, smiling a little behind his sunglasses as he sat down next to me on the lounge couch. It was the same spot where Mason and I had first discussed the idea of a band reunion, mere weeks ago. Back when I’d somehow, stupidly, dared to hope.
“Morning,” Ellis said, easy as anything. No grand announcement, just here to be company.
I cleared my throat, voice scratchy like I’d swallowed too many sharp-edged words. “Morning.”
For a minute, we sipped our coffees. Sunlight filtered through the cypresses, the air just starting to warm as my mind drifted, pulling at loose threads like a sweater about to unravel.
“Luca thinks that five a.m. is the new six,” Ellis said into the lull—matter-of-fact, like a nurse administering a gentle sedative that took the form of a toddler anecdote. “And then he decided that cereal looks better on the floor than in the bowl. So that was fun.”
His calm air settled something in my chest. “Creative expression?” I asked.
“If so, he’s in his ‘paint the world with milk’ phase.”
“Did he try to get it in your shoes again?”
“We’ve learned to lock away all our footwear.” A soft grin tilted Ellis’s mouth, and I took a deep breath, reminded that yes, right—life marched on, messy and normal.
Another moment of silence spun out between us, a distant gardener’s leaf blower rumbling through the morning air.
Eventually, Ellis took off his sunglasses and turned toward me, voice gentle. “So, want to tell me what happened?”
I tipped my head back, staring up at the cloudless sky. It was of a paler blue than the one arching above Sardinia, air pollution leaving a yellowish tint near the horizon. My stomach twisted faintly, might be hunger since I’d felt too raw to keep anything down earlier. “What do you already know?” I asked.
“I know you went to Sardinia with Lee. Guess the whole world kinda knows that.” He paused, then proceeded with the care of someone feeling his way along a dark hallway. “I suspect you hooked up?”
“Yeah.” I needed a moment to gather myself, masking it with another sip of coffee. Hooked up . It just… God. It didn’t even begin to describe what it meant. But that was on me, wasn’t it? “Except, you know. I’ve loved him since I was sixteen. Never really stopped.”
Ellis gave a small, quiet nod, the glance he slid me devoid of surprise. “And you told him that?”
I exhaled on a shaky chuckle. “Yeah. Right as he was yelling at me for—you know how that surveillance footage got leaked? So he was yelling about how I didn’t keep my promise about Emily. I mean, maybe not yelling. But he was… pissed. So.”
“Ah.” Ellis’s lips pursed. “Excellent timing, huh?”
“Yeah, well. Let’s just say he didn’t exactly swoon.” Fuck. The next part was hard . I sucked a breath through my teeth. “He told me to fuck off.”
“Well, shit ,” Ellis said, heartfelt, and Jesus, it was only now that I realized how I’d made Levi the villain. When the tables had been reversed, he’d protected me—and here I was, running straight to Ellis. Still putting myself first, like I’d learned fuck-all in our five years apart. Go me.
“That’s not—I don’t think he meant…” Well, he had. I shook my head. “He was scared, I think. About Emily, and what it meant. Not—he wasn’t trying to hurt me. As such.”
“Cass, hey .” Ellis leaned forward to wrap an arm around my shoulders, voice gone soft. “I know you’re not trying to, like, make him look like the bad guy. But it’s okay to feel sad and hurt, you know?”
My throat was burning. I set the coffee down with shaking hands and slumped into Ellis to gulp down some air. Felt as if I was coming up from a near-drowning, like that time I’d been six, trying to mimic the older surfers, and a big wave had swept me under—kicking up only I couldn’t tell which way was up anymore, everything rushing water and salt in my eyes. Breathe. I’m alive.
“He, uh.” I clung to Ellis, my solid ground while the rest of the world pitched. “He said I was just a nice time between the sheets. A good lay. But that’s all.”
“I sincerely doubt he meant that,” Ellis said softly.
Oh. I pulled back a little so I could look at him. “Yeah?”
“Cass.” His tone was warm, sure. “You and Levi, that’s always been… I don’t know. From the moment you guys met, it was like magnets. So, no. I don’t think there’s ever been anything casual about this, for either of you. Maybe he hated you for a while, sure. But a casual fuck? No. Not with you two.”
I breathed out, and in. “I said he’s lying. Didn’t help.”
“I can imagine.” A wry smile edged the corners of Ellis’s mouth and faded again. “You know that for him, it’s been… a tough few years.”
Yeah, I knew—now. But I hadn’t been there for it.
“On the surface,” Ellis continued, “you’ve had it easy. Anyone who doesn’t know you, Cass? They’ll think you’re on top of the world.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “You know better than that.”
“Yeah, I do. And so does Levi—but knowing something and truly believing it are two different things.”
That… kind of made sense. I’d picked fame over him once, and this time, I’d asked for his help to smooth my coming out. Hardly the best way to show that I was ready to choose him.
“You think I should…” I broke off, shook my head. “Do what ?”
“I don’t know if there’s something you should do right now.” Ellis settled back, studying me for a beat before he smiled. “But he’ll come around—it’s you and Levi. But when he does, he may need something. Some sort of reassurance that this time, you’re all in. Because it’s not just him anymore.”
Emily.
Real life, not just two teenage boys sneaking around backstage. Levi had a kid . A kid who deserved stability, deserved someone who helped with her homework, who patched up a bruised knee or heart. And Levi himself—he deserved someone who embraced that, who wasn’t halfway around the world for birthdays and school plays.
I exhaled, slow and controlled. “Yeah, okay. I get it.”
“Good,” Ellis said, still smiling faintly.
He didn’t push for more, and I didn’t offer as we finished our coffees. Pool water reflected sunlight in shifting patterns, and yeah, I was still achy, reverberations of Levi’s words swirling behind my lids each time I blinked, but my lungs felt just a hint wider now.
Ellis checked his phone, then stood up. “I should head out—dad duties. Call me anytime, yeah?”
“Thanks,” I told him, pretending it was the sun that made me blink rather too quickly.
He squeezed my shoulder. “Always.”
I was left alone, waiting for the day’s heat to rise and my pulse to settle, the steady brightness of reality sinking deep into my bones.
* * *
Downtown LA, Saturday, September 6th
It had been a week.
One week since Levi had told me to get the fuck out and I did; one week that seemed laughable compared to those five years I’d spent without him. But it had stretched like a decade.
Stages of grief—Jace had mentioned them when we’d talked on Monday, even though he’d been just as convinced as Ellis that Levi would come to me. ‘Just give him a hot minute to cool his tits, yeah?’
‘Did you talk to him?’ I’d asked, and no, Jace hadn’t.
So, stages of grief.
Stage one, denial. Been there, done that—numb disbelief on the flight home, my eyes closed, shutting out my thoughts. Stage two, anger. Skipped, because I had no fucking right when I’d broken us first. Stage three, bargaining. I’d stopped myself from sending Levi a message on Monday, a plea to talk, please, just talk to me . Stage four, depression. Maybe, yeah. But if so, I kept it at bay, stayed busy, did a photoshoot for an ad campaign, makeup caked thick to hide the bruise-like circles under my eyes, sat down for an interview that blacklisted all questions about my sexuality when I wanted to scream and shout, and recorded the demo version of a song for my next album.
Today, I was holed up in a studio room, its walls clad in faded wooden panels that had absorbed decades of sound. The dials and sliders of a sprawling mixing console were worn to a soft sheen, thick rugs strewn across the floor. It wasn’t shiny or sleek, but the acoustics were good, and I’d needed to get out of my house. Plus, I was here to audition new guitar players—my life already lacked privacy, and I didn’t want strangers trampling through my music room.
Usually, I enjoyed this kind of scouting—a chance to discover someone rare and true, someone who’d embrace the chaos of a live show and bring their own ideas to my sound. But, fuck. I was tired .
Stage four. Right.
All three candidates had been excellent—I’d expect no less from my team’s rigorous preselection. But I hadn’t felt that instant click with any of them, a sudden spark of energy that told me yes, this was it, yes . Thing was, the problem might be me.
I was about to call my musical director to say we’d need a second round, come back fresh, and to please apologize to the candidates for the inconvenience. That was when Frank checked his phone, then glanced up at me.
“There’s one more,” he said. “Just walked in.”
“I thought it was only three?” I asked.
He shrugged a shoulder, an odd flicker in his eyes. “This one’s a special request.”
Oh, Jesus—not some stupid hidden camera thing. I so wasn’t in the mood.
Before I could utter my protest, Frank crossed over to open the door. “Please come in,” he said, carefully neutral.
And in walked Levi.
My heart went silent. So did the space around us, nothing but the low, electric hum of an amp and the quiet click of the door as Frank left us alone. Levi’s shoulders were set, his jaw tight, cradling a guitar like a precious object. My guitar—the one I’d left behind because I couldn’t stomach looking at it anymore.
“You...” I had to start again, voice too high and thin. “You’re not here to audition.”
Levi’s mouth edged up at the corners, uncertain. “In a sense? Mostly, I just knew you’d be here. Mason told me.”
Mason. Of course—and Jace and Ellis must have been right there with him, invisible threads that held us together. I inhaled a slow breath and tasted salt. A week. A week , and now that Levi was here, all my words had left me.
He took two steps closer, the distance between us cut in half, another step, and held the guitar out to me. “Here—it’s yours.”
I reached for him, then didn’t dare and took the guitar instead. Our fingers brushed like an electric shock. “You came all this way just to return it?”
“Not exactly.” His chin firmed, clear gaze tangling with mine. “First time I told you I loved you—this is the guitar you had then, too. Isn’t it?”
Just another hotel room, one of many, could be anywhere. Sydney, though. Marked on my globe with an inconspicuous ‘You know’ because he’d walked in from a shower and told me, no fanfare, just easy confidence, ‘I love you, you know?’ Back then, we’d felt invincible.
Now? Small and bruised, I barely managed a simple nod. “Yeah.”
“Right.” His eyes were the gentle green of a spring garden. “And your second album, and the third... Some of those songs are about us.”
It wasn’t quite a question, and God, was he about to crush me again? Gently this time, tell me he was sorry, but he didn’t feel that way about me anymore, that he’d well and truly fallen out of love with me? Still, there was no point in denying something so painfully obvious. “A lot of them are, yeah.”
“And your tattoo?” He flicked an unnecessary glance at my hip before he met my eyes again—as if I had other tattoos that meant anywhere near as much. The rest was small stuff, doodles, mostly fun with the exception of a tiny, stylized circuit on my ankle, the same design we’d all gotten after our first single had climbed to the top of the US charts. But I knew he wasn’t asking about that.
“I told you—it’s a reminder. Because I never stopped loving you.”
Silence sank with the resonance of a sunset, hesitation in the curve of his mouth and the way he studied me. I stood still, one hand wrapped around the guitar. This was me—I’d said my piece.
He tipped his chin up, back straightening, a subtle, stubborn spark in the steady way he held my gaze. “I love you, Cass.”
A rolling wave swept me up. “Lee?—”
“Let me finish, please?” His interruption wasn’t harsh, more pleading. I nodded and swallowed the words already perched on my tongue. He took a deep breath before he continued. “A week ago, I said some awful shit I didn’t mean. I’m sorry. None of it was true—I was just scared. Still am, if I’m honest.”
I pressed my lips together. Waiting, hoping .
“I already told you how, uh…” He trailed off and scrubbed a hand over his hair. After a beat, he continued. “I told you how before Jess died, she made me promise that I’d take care of Emily. That I’d do anything in my power to make her happy. I think I’m... doing okay on that front. Trying my best.”
“God, you are .” I leaned forward, needed to say this even though I’d agreed to keep quiet. “That little girl—you’re an amazing dad, Levi. It’s so obvious that you’d do just about anything for her.”
“Yeah.” He was quiet for a second. “But, see, that’s not the only promise I made. Jess also asked me to take care of myself. To live, dance, grab happiness with both hands because life can be short.” His gaze slid away, eyes just a little wet. “I’m not sure I’ve done quite as well on that front.”
My lungs squeezed into a sad clump. I blinked, words gone translucent, and reached for him, fingers sliding along his wrist. He allowed it for a fractured second before he shifted away.
“I want to try, though. Really, I do.” He pressed his lips together, then kept going, voice firm but for the faintest, nearly imperceptible blur around his consonants. “But ‘I love you’ just isn’t going to cut it this time. I’m gonna need a little more than that.”
My throat went tight. “I know.”
“Do you?” He lightly shook his head, tone serious. “Because I need you to really understand this, okay? I want—it’s always been you. Always. I tried to fall out of love with you, but I’m not sure I ever did.”
Oh. My heart turned over and burst open.
“So,” he said softly, “yeah. I love you. And I know it goes both ways—I believe that now.”
“It does,” I said. “God, Lee, you’ve no idea —” Then I remembered I was supposed to let him talk. “Sorry. I’m listening, okay?”
“Good.” A warm, fleeting smile ghosted across his lips. “My point is, though—look at our lives. I don’t travel the world with a personal stylist. I bake muffins for my kid’s birthday and live in a house with my parents because it makes things just a ton easier. I have a day job, I need to plan around school holidays.”
“I know.” My hold on the guitar felt like a thin replacement for how I wanted to reach for him. “Levi, I know .”
“Okay.” He nodded, just slightly. “But I need you to think about what that means. I don’t need… I’m not saying you have to be a second dad to Emmy. That’s not fair, not yet. But I need you to think about what it means , dating me when I have a kid. Whether you’re in this for the long haul. Whether maybe, at some point in the future, you could see us being a family—not now, but someday. And how that fits with who you are now.”
Are you prepared to change your life?
I leaned toward him and inhaled, ready to make my case—and he cut me off again with a gentle shake of his head. “I don’t want an answer now, love.” Love . “I want you to really think about this. Really think. Take a week, please. No texts, no calls, nothing. Because—look, I know there’s no predicting the future. But I need to know you’re not gonna pack up and leave three months from now because I can’t fly out to see you in Dubai or whatever.”
I nodded, heart the size of an ocean because this, this was Levi putting all his cards on the table. His hopes and needs, his pride. I knew how much that mattered to him. He was here, must have caught a flight out as soon as Emily finished her first week back at school, maybe asked his parents for support. This would have taken effort and planning.
So. One week? If that’s what he needed, I could do it. I’d have given a whole fucking year for another chance.
“Okay,” I told him. “I understand. Thank you for…” Not giving up on me. “Coming here. Giving us—me—a chance.”
His chest rose on a deep breath, something easing around his shoulders. “A week,” he repeated. “Then you can call me. And if you… Fuck .” His gaze flickered, then steadied again. “I know it’s a lot, okay? So if you can’t do it—yeah, that’ll hurt. But I’ll understand.”
God, I wanted to promise him the moon and the stars, wanted to promise forever. It wasn’t what he’d asked of me, though. Not just yet.
So instead, I set the guitar aside and took one step toward him, then stopped, hands by my side. He closed the remaining distance and leaned in. A kiss—oh. My eyes fluttered closed, his breath warm on my lips. Our mouths brushed, so light it barely registered.
He stepped back. “I’ll go now.”
Don’t .
I stayed quiet, managed a crooked smile as he turned away. Stay . He paused on the threshold for a backward glance, hesitating, before his voice dipped softer. “I’m not asking you to give up who you are, Cass. But if we do this—it needs to be real.”
“Last time was real, too.” I felt it down to the tips of my toes. “But I get what you mean. And I will think about it, okay? Everything you said. For a week.”
“I love you,” he said, and then he was gone.
Seven days. They stretched like a road I’d never traveled before, no map to guide my way, no shortcuts. But that was fine. I was ready.