9. Levi
CHAPTER 9
Levi
B everly Hills, Sunday, August 17th
“You smell nice.”
And just like that, Emily threw me into a state of subdued panic. Was I trying too hard? I was meant to dress up a bit for my dinner with Cass, sure—I needed to look like I belonged with him, like he’d give me the time of day. But cologne wouldn’t show in the pictures. And I rarely bothered.
Which meant that Cass might conclude this was for him. And he’d be right.
A date. With Cass. In public.
A fake date.
Sheer, utter madness must have compelled me to say yes to this harebrained scheme. It didn’t have to be me. Cass was Cass— there’d be hundreds, no, thousands of guys willing to help him out. Except the idea of him laughing with some other man, leaning close, smiling at a gentle brush of fingers… God, it made me want to claw at the wallpaper.
So, yeah. I was clearly in the right state of mind for this whole charade. What could go wrong?
“Thanks, love,” I remembered to tell Emily. “You want a spritz of cologne too?”
She beamed up at me, green eyes wide and happy. “Yes, please.”
Good girl. Jessica had raised her well, and I was trying my best. Finally turning my back on the mirror, I grinned down at her. “All right. Since you said please.”
I passed her the cologne bottle and let her dab a few drops on her throat in a gesture she must have copied from someone—her mum, perhaps. As always, the thought of my sister living on in Emily hurt for a moment, then blended in with the white background noise that my grief had now become.
It was another ten minutes before Cass would pick me up, twenty if he still ran late like he’d used to. I didn’t want to gaze out the window like some cinematic sailor’s bride, so I joined Mason in the kitchen, Emily in tow. He hoisted her onto the kitchen island and moved a bowl of Skittles closer to her, setting aside a song he must have been working on. I’d have to wean Emily off the sugary treats once we got home. Cold turkey might be the method of choice.
Home. Leaving Cass here, in LA. Where he belonged and I no longer did.
“You smell expensive,” Mason said. “Both of you.”
I could still wash it off. Should I? No. Nothing wrong with a little effort that went beyond the obvious. Cass would look amazing, and I looked… I looked fine . Not the professionally styled kind of fine, but after years of being poked and prodded at, I’d picked up a thing or two.
Stop fretting.
“It’s what happens when you take regular showers,” I told Mason.
“Pretty sure that’s eau de Gucci rather than tap water,” he said.
“Burberry, as a matter of fact.”
“Do I look like I care?”
No, he didn’t. I was about to claim that I didn’t either when Mason’s phone buzzed. He glanced down.
“Look at that—Cass is early. Miracles do happen.”
Already? I’d thought I would have a few more minutes to collect myself, but all right, okay. I was ready for this—ready to pretend we were in love while convincing Cass that I was only acting. Ideally without actually falling for him all over again.
Yeah, piece of cake.
Cass walked into the kitchen looking exactly like I’d expected—like a punch to the chest. His hair was slicked back slightly, soft waves escaping, and he’d gone for dark jeans and a shirt that hinted at the muscles beneath, sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his wrists. When he caught me staring, his lips quirked. They were subtly shiny, a little darker than usual. Lip gloss? Bloody hell, I wasn’t prepared for this level of torture.
“You ready?” he asked as though he’d caught the tail end of my thoughts.
Not even close.
“Sure, yeah. Just give me a second to say goodnight.”
“No rush.” He sounded like he meant it, his smile as loose as his stance.
Emily hopped off the kitchen island to hug me, her small arms tight around my middle, her tone serious. “I promise I’ll eat my vegetables without complaining. Much.”
I tried to stifle my grin, kissing the top of her head. “That’s a mighty promise, love. I’m sure Mason will be very grateful.”
“ Very ,” Mason agreed.
Cass stepped closer, crouching down to be on her level. His voice dipped into earnest territory, as though he were about to divulge confidential government intel. “Thanks for letting me borrow Levi tonight. I’ll make sure he eats his vegetables, too.”
Emily tilted her head, considering him, before she nodded. “That’s fair. But don’t make him sad again.”
Ah, shit. And here I’d been hoping she’d forgotten all about that minor detail. When I’d explained that I was going to help Cass because that’s what friends did, just like she and I had discussed, she hadn’t brought it up. But, nope. I avoided looking directly at Cass but didn’t miss the shift in his posture as he glanced my way.
“I won’t,” he told her softly, almost like he was sharing a secret.
“Good.” She sounded satisfied.
“And on that delightful note...” I clapped my hands. “Let’s go. Also, I’m going to have an extra serving of dessert. Perks of being an adult.”
“Amen,” Mason said.
“I’ll save you some,” Cass promised Emily in a stage whisper as he rose to his full height. Something about the scene twisted my chest. Yeah, so Cass was a natural with kids and had always gravitated towards them at meet-and-greets. But seeing him interact with Emily, the number-one person in my life...
God, I needed to put a lid on my errant thoughts.
Before we left, Mason demanded that Cass and I pose for a picture he could share with Jace and Ellis because “This might be the closest I’ll get to being a prom night parent. My darling boys looking all grown up and fancy. So let me have this?”
“I’m older than you,” I reminded him while Cass laughed, his face a little pink even as he slung an arm around my waist.
“Come on, then.”
“This is ridiculous.” I still leaned into him, hips and shoulders aligned, his familiar warmth against my side. Different cologne—a little bolder, fruity with a smoky, woody base. It suited him, or at least it suited this older, more self-aware version of him. And Christ, if not for the commentary on my cologne, I wouldn’t even notice his.
“Smile,” Mason ordered.
We did—muscle memory, built through countless photoshoots, all of us trained to look and smile a certain way, heads angled just so. It was a habit I still seamlessly stepped into whenever fans asked for a picture.
Once Mason was satisfied, I gave Emily another hug, and then Cass and I left. His car was a sleek black number, understated luxury more than a flashy scream for attention. Well, he got enough of that without even trying, didn’t he? Just a week ago, the thought might have been dusted in bitterness, while now there was a softness to it, a wistful sense of understanding. Maybe he had loved me just as much as I’d loved him.
The gate slid open for us, and we pulled away from Mason’s house. Brief silence flooded the space between our seats—sudden awareness that we were truly alone for the first time in years. His hands were sure and steady on the steering wheel, a newfound ease that no longer betrayed that he’d been a nervous driver at first. The curve of his profile caught the brightness of this summer evening, golden light tracing the sharp edge of his jaw.
“You look nice,” he said after a minute, eyes on the road.
Oh . Not like I hadn’t heard it before, not like I didn’t still get compliments on the regular—but this was Cass. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, kindly ironed by Mason’s cleaning lady. “So do you. Though that was never really in question, was it?”
His laugh was soft, even a little shy. “Thank you.”
Another beat passed. I sought out the tiny scar on his thumb and wondered if he still tuned his guitar as a means to calm down, to exert a sense of control, tightening and loosening the strings until they snapped. Jace wasn’t the only one who’d struggled with bouts of nerves, but Cass hid it better. Over time, I’d learned to recognise the signs.
His gaze flickered to me before I could avert my eyes. “What’s it like?” he asked, mild hesitation colouring his tone. “Raising Emily, I mean. Since, like… Obviously, this is different. But I don’t remember you ever wanting kids.”
“I didn’t.” This felt like poking at old wounds—watching Cass’s face light up as he held a tiny, chubby Emily in his arms, wondering if he wanted that for his future, nicely bundled in with a wife, a wedding ring, and a white picket fence. I exhaled and let it go. “Maybe I could have come around to the idea. But it’s not something I actively chose. And it’s… I love her. God, I do.”
“I can tell,” he said softly. “Anyone who watches you with her for even just a minute can tell that.”
I turned my face away to gather my thoughts. Lingering heat gleamed above the pavement, the low sun turning palm trees into giant sundials. Usually, I didn’t share this part, but Cass had always been good at listening, and he’d sounded genuine, like he really wanted to know.
“It’s constant,” I admitted in an undertone. “I’m not complaining, right? It’s just the reality. Especially since it’s just me, and coming into this whole thing, I had no fucking clue. So I’m always worrying—about the little things, the big things. Like, how much screen time is too much? Is she brushing her teeth properly? Is she happy? Am I enough for her? Does she miss her mum too much?”
“ Lee .” Cass’s voice was thick and heavy. “That little girl loves you something fierce.“
“I know. But when Jess died—” My voice cracked, and fuck, how had this conversation taken such a quick plunge into dark waters? “When Jess died, it was like my whole world stopped. Rug pulled out from under my feet. But I couldn’t just curl up and cry, you know? Because there was Emmy, and she wasn’t talking, was barely eating, and my parents were grieving so it fell to me to… do something. Anything. I didn’t have time to grieve because someone had to keep it together.”
“You’ve always been that person.” The set of Cass’s mouth was soft, serious. “Taking care of people. Me, the other guys, anyone who needed a hand—you’d be the first one to offer.”
I laughed so I wouldn’t cry. “Didn’t take very good care of myself for a while, now did I?”
He was quiet for a beat, sadness in the curve of his mouth. When he spoke, it barely rose above the quiet buzz of the car. “That’s what happens when good people give too much. Eventually, they run dry.”
Jesus.
I dug my fingers into my thighs as I waited for the sense of vertigo to pass. A dog, its head stuck out of a passing convertible, caught my eye—ears flapping wildly and tongue lolling out. Just enjoying the moment.
“You know how we made a deal to stop apologising?” Cass asked after a minute, still so very gentle. “That means forgiveness, right? Maybe it’s also time you forgive yourself.”
“Easier said than done,” I replied, and he sighed.
“Yeah. I know.”
I swallowed hard, my chest split wide open, and turned to look at him. A small, wistful smile twisted his lips, and I longed to reach out and brush back the stray curl that had fallen against his temple. Instead, I tucked my hands between my thighs.
He kept driving.
* * *
Downtown LA, Sunday, August 17th
Two bodyguards met us by the restaurant. One parked the car while the other led us through the back entrance and into the kitchen, where people stopped briefly in what they were doing. Wow, yeah, I’d almost forgotten this part.
“Smells amazing!” Cass declared, and it did—garlic and olive oil and a whole range of spices I was too ignorant to name. But it was Cass’s superstar smile that trapped my attention.
“Thank you all,” I added, a little less confident, my celebrity persona a dusty mask that didn’t quite fit anymore.
Little cheers and smiles were our response, people returning to their tasks as the owner welcomed us with expansive gestures and walked us to our table. The place was warm and inviting, with just a touch of elegance that didn’t feel stifling—dark wood, glowing chandeliers, and an open bar. Some heads turned at our entrance, glances and whispers of “Wait, is that…?” trailing in our wake. Frank, Cass’s bodyguard, was seated nearby, close enough to interfere while giving us some space.
There was a lit candle flickering on our table. A rose, too—real, at that. It was like a scene torn straight out of an ancient dream, something that belonged in a previous life, yet this wasn’t that Cass. His shoulders were broader, betraying none of the tension I knew he felt, only the faintest shadow of it in the curve of his mouth.
“Hey.” I bumped our feet together under the table without letting the contact linger. “Are you still sure about this? We can leave. Grab a drive-through burger instead.”
His warm attention was like a spotlight. “I don’t want to leave. Unless?—”
“I’m in,” I interrupted. “Quit asking.”
“Okay.” The faintest hitch of a pause as he studied me. “Non-alcoholic aperitifs, right?”
I looked down at the spotless tablecloth, ironed to perfection, and nodded. “Thanks.”
“What for?” he asked, a gentle murmur.
“Understanding. Not making it a big deal.”
With our waiter hovering at a respectful distance, ready to approach, Cass settled for a quick brush of our fingers across the table. Instinctively, I glanced around—several diners quickly shifted their attention elsewhere, and the couple two tables over launched into an animated conversation too pointed to be natural.
This was for show, I reminded myself. My heart, ignorant to the distinction, still gave a painful lurch.
* * *
“You got a cat.” Cass’s grin damn near threatened to break his face, a forkful of pasta held suspended. “ You got a cat. ”
“I inherited a cat,” I corrected.
“Pictures,” he said.
“Maybe I don’t have any.”
“ Pictures. ”
I heaved a dramatic sigh, unlikely to distract him from how I was biting down on a smile. Reaching for my phone, I was loosely aware that people were still watching us like, say, an exotic butterfly fluttering around a greenhouse. So far, no one had actually come up to us, but it was only a matter of time, and I’d seen several phones raised at suspicious angles. It just wasn’t ever as subtle as people thought.
There was a whole album dedicated to Alba—auto-generated, in my defense. But the point stood: I was a person who carried pictures of their pet around. Even if Emily had taken most of them.
I passed Cass my phone and speared a bite of lemon tagliatelle.
“Oh, she’s a beauty,” he said, delight brightening his features. In some ways, he really hadn’t changed at all, had he?
I shook my head, so damn fond of this boy. “You say that about every cat.”
“And it’s always true.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
As soon as he’d said it, we both froze for a fractured second, staring at each other across the table. Just a joke. Just a joke , but neither of us was laughing.
“Sorry,” Cass said, too quiet. “I obviously didn’t mean—I know you don’t. Not anymore.”
I couldn’t fucking breathe . Forced myself to do so anyway, forced myself to think and smile. “You broke our deal.”
“Deal?” His eyes were wide and confused, more grey than blue in the muted light.
“No more apologies.”
His smile, when it came, tipped my world on its side. “Yeah, all right. Just forgot, for a second there.”
‘I know you don’t. Not anymore.’
I didn’t know a damn thing.
Or—some things I knew. Like that this date wasn’t real. That even so, it was messing with my mind. That a part of me would always love Cass because I didn’t know how to stop. Because maybe I didn’t want to.
Since I couldn’t say any of that, I shifted the conversation to easier ground—how Emily had once convinced me to let her stay up late by arguing that she was practising her negotiation skills, and how she’d tried to train Alba to fetch socks. Cass laughed in all the right places, listening with his whole body as though I were the only person in the room.
“You know,” I told him in a near-whisper after we’d finished our mains, the plates cleared off the table, “it’s a good thing this date isn’t real.”
He leaned back in his chair. The collar of this shirt gaped open just enough to draw my eye, and I almost missed his low, “And why is that?”
“I’d never talk this much about Emmy during an actual date. Not that I’ve had much time, or interest.” I shrugged. “Like, a couple of times in the last twelve months—bit embarrassing, now that I think about it.”
Christ, why was I still talking? We’d not had a drop of alcohol even though I’d told Cass to go ahead, I didn’t mind if he ordered some wine for himself. He’d declined like it was really no big deal, but anyway, the point was that I’d just admitted to a pitiful love life while he was bound to have his pick. After all, LA’s closets were roomier than most.
“Why would you not talk about Emily all the time?” he asked. “She’s the most important person in your life.”
“Yeah. And that’s the thing, isn’t it?” I paused. “Like, ‘sorry, but you’ll never be my top priority—if that’s a problem, there’s the door.’ Let’s be real, not the best start to a date.”
“If you ask me, anyone who doesn’t get that isn’t worth your time.” Cass sounded serious in that way he had sometimes, when he really wanted to be heard but worried people wouldn’t listen.
“Maybe,” I replied, just as serious. “Doesn’t mean it’s always easy, though.”
Cass’s response got stalled when Frank got up, speaking into his earpiece, then headed over to us. “Time to leave,” he said, quiet but firm.
“But what about dessert?” Cass asked even as he rose from the table.
“Take it to go,” Frank told him. “Someone posted your location and a picture, and there’s a crowd gathering outside.”
Fuck, I hadn’t missed this part of my Neon Circuit past. Goldfish trapped in a bowl, strangers’ hands beating against the glass.
I got up as well and joined Cass, acutely aware of the sudden change in atmosphere. Other diners no longer pretended they weren’t staring, phones out in the open now. Good thing I’d already swiped my credit card earlier. The couple two tables over jumped up to ask for a photo, polite but determined, and we stopped just long enough to lean into each other, smiling, Cass’s hand low on my back. More people came over and wanted photos too, voices starting to blend together. “I saw you in concert last year, Cassian,” and “My baby sister was a huge fan of you guys,” and “Is it true, is there gonna be a reunion?”
“Let’s move,” Frank said a minute into this. And again, more emphatically, “Let’s move !” a couple of pictures later.
So we moved.
Since the back exit was narrower, Frank herded us out the front. The noise hit first—shouts that felt too close, too loud. Warm evening air mixed with the flash of phone cameras, a neon sign buzzing faintly from across the street, its pink glow catching on Cass’s jaw. Car horns. A sea of half-heard words that overlaid each other.
“Cassian! Over here! Just one picture!”
Frank cut a path through the crowd. I kept my head down, following the sway of Cass’s body right in front of me. A girl reached for him, her hand just missing his sleeve. We kept moving.
The car waited under a streetlamp. Frank threw open the door and we tumbled into the back seat, then and now tangling in my mind, blood rushing in my ears. The door clicked shut, and sudden quiet pressed in on us. Another wave of sound swelled—Frank slipping into the passenger seat.
“Go,” he barked.
We rolled forward—slow at first, a few phones smudged against the tinted windows before the crowd fell away. Darkness wrapped around us, broken only here and there by city lights that painted stripes across Cass’s face. My shoulder bumped his as we turned a corner.
I didn’t move away. He didn’t either.
He dipped his head, shadows and guilt splashed across his features. “Levi, I?—”
“Don’t.” Too sharp. I caught his arm and held on through another turn, softening my voice. “I know what I signed up for.”
Did I? God, I bloody hoped so.
We were close enough that I could feel the rise of his chest as he inhaled and then covered my hand with his own, our fingers slotting together. “Thank you.”
I cleared my throat. “Anytime, Cass.”
He didn’t reply, but the space between us felt smaller than it had in years.