3. Levi
CHAPTER 3
Levi
M acclesfield, Tuesday, July 22nd
Bedtime in the Blake household equalled a business negotiation. Emily would make a great lawyer one day. Or a used-car saleswoman; I didn’t want her to feel boxed in.
“One more chapter.”
“It’s half past eight, Emmy.”
“One more page.”
“It’s still half past eight.”
“ Please ?”
“What’s in it for me, love?”
“I’ll...” She sat up in her four-poster bed that she’d painted blue like the sky, blonde hair falling in a messy tumble over her shoulders. “I’ll get up tomorrow without uttering so much as a single complaint.”
It was a close echo of what I often told her— ‘the day you get up without uttering so much as a single complaint, I’ll know hell’s about to freeze over.’ Proof that kids truly were sponges. I wasn’t one of those parents who used “Blooming heck” or “Fiddlesticks” as a placeholder for strong language, but I tried to tone it down at least a bit around her. Restraint didn’t come naturally to me.
“What did I tell you about making impossible promises?”
“Don’t do it,” she parroted, the very picture of angelic innocence, her eyes the same clear green as mine, the same as Jessica’s had been. Emily’s curly blonde hair was a different matter, must have come from her sperm donor. “But I can totally get up without complaining tomorrow.”
“Bet you can’t,” I said because a good challenge worked like a charm in this family. It would be awfully nice to sail smoothly into her last day of school before the summer.
“Can too!” she protested.
I was about to reply when my phone buzzed against my thigh. Usually, bedtime was sacred—it was the only half-hour during the day when I wasn’t available to my acts. The display said it was Mason, though, and Emily loved him. Plus, I was curious what Jace’s cryptic message had been all about. Closure?
“It’s Uncle Mason,” I told her. “You wanna tell him goodnight before you turn out the light?”
“ Yes !”
Which meant she’d talk his ear off for about five minutes, and then she’d crash. Good enough for me.
I picked up with, “Hey, mate.”
“Levi!” Mason sounded delighted to hear my voice, as though it had been months when he’d really visited us just a couple of weeks ago—taking over the guest room and filling the whole house with his big laugh and cheerful energy, spoiling Emily rotten.
“Emmy wants to talk to you,” I said. “Unless you’re in a rush?”
“Like I’d ever be in too much of a rush for her.”
I handed over my phone so they could do their thing. Mostly, that meant Emily telling Mason about the muffins I’d baked and how chocolatey they’d been, how gooey. Good to know my career as a baker wasn’t off the table.
When they were done, I tucked Emily in, closed the blinds the rest of the way, and shut the door before taking the call out onto the balcony. The countryside was doused in golden evening light that softened every hill and hedgerow, stretching long shadows across the fields. A faint breeze carried the smell of freshly cut grass and wildflowers.
“Sounds like the muffins were a big hit,” Mason told me. “Didn’t think you even knew how an oven works.”
“Sure I do. You put stuff in, close the door, and pray to the food gods.” Even though he couldn’t see me, I shook my head, smile fading as my voice dropped low. “Seriously, though. Never thought I’d be raising a daughter and baking muffins so she could impress the other kids at school.”
“You’re doing a great job, bro. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you.” My throat felt a little tight. “Means a lot.”
“It’s the honest truth.” Mason went quiet for a moment as I studied the wash of fading light across the fields. It might be only me whose thoughts slid back to how out of the five of us, Ellis had been the one who’d always talked about how he wanted a family, a dog, all that jazz. Me? Not really. I’d liked kids just fine, but I wasn’t cooing over babies like Cass. He’d met Emily just once, before things fell apart, and when my sister had shown him how to hold her, he looked like his entire life had just changed for the better.
Maybe that had been the moment I realised I couldn’t keep going like this. If Cass wanted normal, wanted a wife and kids rather than... well, me ... I was better off knowing.
“Hey,” Mason said into the flow of my memories. “You guys made plans for Emmy’s summer break yet? Other than her going to summer camp.”
“No more than when you were here—one week in Italy at the end of August. Why? You’re gonna join us after all?”
“How do you feel about showing her California?” he asked. “Disneyland, beaches, could take her to the Hollywood Bowl so she can see how cool we are for having performed there... You could stay with me; you know I’ve got the space.”
I’d long since sold my house in LA, hadn’t visited since the end of Neon Circuit. It wasn’t like I’d deliberately avoided Cass’s city—not as such. But the label I worked for hadn’t asked me to travel to the US, and I’d done enough crossing of time zones to last a lifetime.
Visiting Mason would throw me back into the hectic pulse of a city that used to feel like a second home. Was this what Jace had meant with closure?
“Not that I don’t appreciate the idea,” I said. “But what brought this on?”
“Well.” Mason turned the word into a standalone sentence. “So. Here’s the thing, right?”
“Right...?”
“Remember how we did Stand Up to Cancer a couple of times?”
“Uh.” I frowned. “Obviously, yeah. What with how it’s, you know, a major charity event and all.”
The first time, we’d performed an acoustic version of our first single; the second time, we’d done a duet with a British singer Jace had been half in love with at the time. They’d dated for a hot minute before she called it quits since she was into parties and he was into chilling at home.
“Yeah. Right.” A strange note of uncertainty entered Mason’s voice. “So the idea is—uh. What if we bring the band back? One song only.”
“The… band?” It didn’t compute.
“Neon Circuit,” he said as if that might be what had me confused.
“Well, yeah. I didn’t think you meant Oasis.” Look at that—my brain hadn’t shut down entirely. I closed my eyes for a beat. “Mason…”
“Cass is performing this year.” Mason’s words came more quickly now, almost urgent. “It’s his idea. One song, make it a surprise. Get people talking and donating.”
“Cass’s idea?” I hated how my voice caught on the name. Five fucking years . I wasn’t who I used to be, but somehow, my heart was still hung up on him even if the ache wasn’t quite the same anymore. No longer my first thought in the morning and my last at night, more of a dull kind of tenderness that lingered in the back of my mind.
“Yeah.” Mason didn’t add more than that. I watched the elegant swooping of swallows against the sky’s expanse as I worked through the implications.
“Does he…” Fuck. I exhaled, inhaled, and tried again. “Does he know about Jess? That it was a brain tumour?”
Cass had adored my sister, and it had gone both ways. When she’d died, I’d come so fucking close to breaking our silence—close enough that I’d pulled up his name in my contacts only to stare at it for minutes, my stomach turned inside out. We hadn’t spoken in three years. He was flying high, his solo career eclipsing what we’d done as a band. Even though I didn’t seek them out anymore, I’d seen the headlines and pictures linking him to this model or that singer. He’d moved on. So, calling him? Pathetic.
I’d put my phone away.
Except now he wanted to get us back together. For charity .
“No,” Mason said softly, and—uh? Oh. Jess . “It wasn’t our story to tell. If he knew, he’d have dropped everything to be with you. You know that, right?”
“Do I?” I’d aimed for sarcasm and missed by a mile. My ribs hurt, the scent of grass and wildflowers suddenly too sweet, weighing on my senses.
“Maybe you don’t. But the rest of us do. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“Mason.” I had no idea how to continue. Please don’t. This isn’t helping.
“Levi.” Mason drew a breath. “I know he hurt you. We were all so damn young, and no one taught us how to grow up, what matters and what doesn’t, when it’s worth holding on. Think Cass has learned a thing or two since then.”
“He told you that?”
“Not in those exact words. But, yeah.”
Dammit . I propped both elbows on the railing and dropped my head, trying to will down the pressure behind my eyes. I’d long since stopped hoping for a better past.
‘Closure, sort of. Or the opposite?’
Thanks, Jace. A proper warning would have been nice.
“One song?” I asked around the hole in my chest. Sunlight slanted through and illuminated the dark, lonely spots on my soul in stark detail.
Christ, I needed to stop it with the melodrama.
“Yeah,” Mason said. “Pre-recorded, no audience—them’s Jace’s rules. And we’d need to rehearse, of course.”
One song. See Cass again after all this time—after I’d shed my old life and built something new for myself, no longer relying on alcohol to silence the voices in my head.
It should have been an easy no. But… God. Jace was in, and he hated the spotlight in a way I didn’t. While I’d been desperate for a break back then, it had been more about the relentless pace and the pressure to be someone I wasn’t than it had been about the stage, the crowds, the fans. I’d never stopped loving the rush of a great performance, only I lived it through my artists now.
One song and a trip to California?
Mason sounded excited. And Cass—well, it had been his idea apparently, designed to boost donations for cancer research. Of all things .
Could this mean something to Emily? She might not get it now, not yet—but in three years’ time, or in five?
“What about Ellis?” I asked.
“‘Course he’s in,” Mason said.
No surprise there. We’d often joked that even our most dedicated, most outrageous fans didn’t love Neon Circuit half as much as Ellis did. When it had ended, he was gutted—just like me, if for slightly different reasons.
Or maybe not so different. We’d both pinned our hopes and dreams onto passing stars. No wonder we’d struggled in similar ways.
A few seconds of silence spun out between Mason and me. Then he asked, voice gentle, “So, what do you think? California sunshine, get the old crew back together…”
I raised my head and stared out at the familiar fields. This was my life now. The glamour and glitter of LA, its palm trees and traffic and haze of a thousand lights… It all seemed so very far away.
No . Only I couldn’t bring myself to say the word.
All this time, and Cass still lingered at the back of my mind. Seeing him again… Maybe it would be good for me? To witness first-hand that he’d moved on and I needed— needed— to do the same.
Closure.
“Yeah, okay.” I exhaled a heavy breath through my nose. “I’m in.”
* * *
Beverly Hills, Wednesday, August 13th
“What’s it feel like?“ Mason asked. “Being back.”
I turned away from his multi-million dollar view—literally—of LA’s early evening twinkle, the ocean glistening beyond. A gentle breeze flowed in through the open floor-to-ceiling glass door of his living room. How did I feel? Knowing this was the closest I’d been to Cass in years, his mansion just a five-minute drive away? His mansion that used to be ours given my house had been more of a fig leaf for the public. Not that we weren’t mostly travelling anyway.
“Ask me tomorrow,” I said.
“After seeing Cass again?” No judgement clouded Mason’s tone.
“Yeah.” I dropped onto his sofa. “Not sure how that’s gonna go.”
Three weeks leading up to this, and Cass and I hadn’t been in touch yet. His and Mason’s PAs had handled logistics, juggled calendars and travel plans. Me, I’d buried myself in normalcy, helping Cosma get settled and polishing another act’s sophomore album, pretending I was fine right up until Emily and I had boarded our plane, when it sank in that yes, this was happening. Unlike me, she’d slept a little on the flight, but she’d still crashed as soon as we’d arrived, not even trying to negotiate for a bedtime story.
Mason handed me a glass of water, then joined me on the sofa. “You’re not the same person,” he said. “But neither is Cass.”
“Is that a good thing?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“I’m fine, you know?” I let my gaze slide back to the view. “There’s no Cass-shaped hole in my life.”
Mason gave my words a second to settle. “Okay, look. I’m not calling you a liar.”
Damn, this smelled like one of Mason’s infamous reality checks. For a pretty chill guy, he could be surprisingly direct when he felt a friend needed to hear a painful truth. He’d been the one to tell me I needed to check myself into rehab. He’d done the same for Ellis.
I was quite certain that I didn’t want to hear this, and just as certain that I should.
“But?” I prompted.
“But...” He slowly shook his head, eyes a little sad as they found mine. “You haven’t dated anyone, Levi. Not since Cass. Five years .”
“I’ve dated!” I said, perhaps a tad too forcefully. It reminded me of how Emily had asked me on the plane this morning, her voice low like she was sharing a secret, ‘Did Cass really break your heart?’
What the hell? She knew of Cass, of course—sooner or later, someone would ask her about Neon Circuit, and I’d rather have her hear the stories from me. So I’d made sure to slip a few tales of our globetrotting adventures in with other bedtime stories, and she’d met all of the lads even if she’d been too young to remember Cass.
I’d schooled my features into a casual expression, glancing around to make sure no one could overhear us. Fortunately, the other Business Class passengers were preoccupied with their own affairs, which was exactly why I’d chosen this over Economy. I didn’t want to turn Emily into a spoiled princess, but eleven hours with people whispering and staring was not what the doctor had ordered.
‘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?