Chapter 37
The rough ground crunched beneath our boots as Chase and I wound up the trail, the cold morning air biting at our cheeks. He’d shown up before I’d even had coffee, leaning on his horn until I trudged outside with my glove’s half on.
He’d always been that way, impatient, bossy, protective, still my big brother, especially now.
“You’ve lost weight again,” he said after a few minutes, voice calm but laced with the doctor tone I hated.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m eating, Chase.”
“Not what I asked.”
“I am,” I repeated, sharper this time. “More than I was before.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. That was Chase’s thing: poke, prod, then back off right before I snapped.
The woods around us were quiet, the kind of quiet that let your thoughts get too loud.
“So,” he said eventually. “What have you been working on? Besides fixing Mason’s entire financial disaster.”
I tugged my scarf higher. “Writing.”
“Ghostwriting?”
I hesitated. “I have a few things to finish with my last contracts... but no. I am writing my story. Mom told me to. Said maybe it’s the one I was always meant to tell.”
Chase hummed, gazing forward. “And how’s that feel?”
“Raw. Messy. Like bleeding on paper.”
He nodded like he understood, even if he didn’t.
We walked a little more until he added, a little too casually, “Anything going on with Brody?”
I stopped dead. “Wow. Subtle.”
His mouth twitched. “Just asking.”
“Is this where you stake your claim on the childhood best friend?”
He chuckled. “No.” Then his expression shifted, becoming awkward and searching. “It’s just… Brody’s been through his own shit, too. I worry about him.”
Heat flared in my chest. “Wait, are you worried about me hurting Brody? What the actual fuck, Chase?”
“Not like that.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just want you both to be okay. I don’t want either of you… using the other to fill space.”
I shoved his shoulder, half annoyed, half amused. “You’re infuriating.”
He grinned, smug as always. “Family trait.”
The fundraiser at Adam’s was already buzzing when I walked in with Chase and Clara.
The pub smelled like fire and fried onions, the clink of glasses underscoring laughter and chatter.
My mom was in her element, clipboard in hand, commanding a small army of volunteers.
Dad stuck close, his presence solid at my side, while Chase hovered like a hawk.
Clara and Mason weren’t far, her hand in his, a fragile truce still holding.
It should have felt safe. But the stares, the whispers, I could feel them like static against my skin. Every laugh felt sharper, every sideways glance louder.
I sipped my drink and tried not to bolt.
Then the opening chords of “Rumor” by Lee Brice rolled through the speakers, the bass line vibrating through the floor.
Before I could think, Brody was there. “Come dance with me, Cassidy.”
His hand slid into mine, warm and sure, and before I could second-guess it, I was already being pulled onto the makeshift dance floor.
The song wrapped around us, low and husky, the bass thrumming in my chest. He didn’t ask where I wanted to stand, didn’t hesitate, he just tugged me closer, his arm curving around my waist like he’d been waiting years to do it.
I could feel every stare, every whisper buzzing at the edges of the room, but the second his chest pressed against mine, all of it blurred.
He didn’t say a word. Neither did I. His eyes never left mine.
I was acutely aware of everything: the heat of his palm against the small of my back, the slow rise and fall of his breath, the faint scent of cedar and soap clinging to him. I felt my body soften, betraying me, as if it remembered something my head hadn’t let me hope for.
The lyrics hit the chorus, the crowd humming along, but I only heard the silence between us. It said more than the music ever could.
And then I opened my stupid mouth.
“I had a crush on you when I was younger.”
The words landed like a stone in still water, rippling out between us.
His brows lifted slightly, but his grip on me didn’t falter.
I panicked. “I mean, it’s fine. You didn’t notice.
You weren’t supposed to notice. Age difference and all.
Totally normal. I just, God, forget I said that.
” The words tumbled out faster, heat rushing up my neck. “Really, please, just forget it.”
His chest rumbled against me, a quiet chuckle that melted and unravelled me in the same breath. He bent his head, his lips brushing the edge of my hairline. “Relax, Cass.”
I stilled.
“I knew.”
My heart stuttered.
“I always saw you,” he said, his voice lower now, intimate, only for me. “But you were young, and I wasn’t going to be that guy. And later, when I came home… I was with someone. But I still saw you.”
My throat closed around a dozen words I couldn’t say.
He went on, his voice roughened with something I couldn’t name. “Chase sent me pictures sometimes. Updates. I followed you online, tried not to be creepy about it. Tried to push it away. But it was there.” His eyes searched mine, intent, unflinching. “It never would’ve worked before.”
“Before what?” The question slipped out, a whisper that felt like butterfly wings.
His gaze softened, the corners of his mouth tugging in the barest smile. “Before now.”
The song slowed toward its end, the crowd swaying around us, but I felt caught in a bubble that had nothing to do with music, people, or whispers.
Brody’s hand lingered at my waist a beat too long, like he didn’t want to let go. His eyes held mine, steady, sure, saying everything the words didn’t.
And then the music ended, the spell breaking like a snapped thread.
“Thanks for the dance,” he murmured and stepped back.
I stood there, stunned, my skin still humming where he’d touched me, the world rushing back in sharp and loud. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure what terrified me more, how much I wanted him, or how much he seemed to want me back.
The pub had quieted to a low hum by the time we finished wiping down tables and stacking chairs. Adam leaned his hip against the bar, arms folded, a smug grin on his face like he’d been waiting all night to corner me.
“So,” he drawled, eyes twinkling, “was that a dance or foreplay out there? Because I’m gonna need to know how to categorize it for the family archives.”
I snorted, rolling my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “You’re oh so hilarious.”
“Yeah, but I’m right.”
I grabbed a rag and tossed it at him. He caught it with a laugh and lobbed it back, just missing my head.
Before I could fire back, I saw Chase out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the bar with a drink in hand. “Don’t try and get out of this, Cass,” Adam said, wagging a finger. “Your cheeks are still pink.”
“Please.” I waved a hand, desperate for a distraction. “If we’re talking about foreplay, maybe we should talk about Chase. I saw him chatting up that pretty redhead by the fireplace earlier, real close.”
Chase barked a laugh, unbothered. “Fair. But for the record, I also saw Mason and Clara sneaking kisses by the coat rack, so I think I win for Most Shocking Sight of the Night.”
That set Adam off. “Oh man, remember in school when Clara used to slap Mason every time he tried to hold her hand? And now look at them.” He grinned widely, nostalgia dripping from his voice. “Guess miracles do happen.”
The three of us fell into easy laughter, trading stories about old times, the summer barbecues that turned into volleyball wars, the time Adam tried to skateboard down the big hill and broke his foot, the nights Brody used to sneak us smores when Mom said no sugar after nine.
It felt light. Like the years peeled back for a second, and I wasn’t the girl everyone whispered about. I was just me. Just Cass.
And then I felt it. Him.
I didn’t even have to turn; I knew Brody had walked back in from outside. My skin buzzed. When I finally lifted my eyes, his were already locked on mine.
Something low and unspoken passed between us, something that made my chest tighten and my stomach flip all at once.
The spell broke with a warm voice at my side.
“Cassidy, sweetheart.” Judy Palmer, all bright eyes and motherly warmth, squeezed my arm. “You owe me a dinner soon. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”
I managed a smile, nodding quickly, but my gaze slid back to Brody. His smile was different, not the one he flashed everyone else, but the one that somehow felt like it belonged to me alone.