Chapter 7
“Sheila, are we out of those muscadine seltzers? Someone just ordered the last one in the fridge.”
Despite her bad back, and me telling her I had things covered, Sheila is still in the storage room, lifting boxes she has no damn business lifting.
“Woman!” I say, snatching the box from her hands. “You’re doing too much. Now, sit”—I point to the rolling desk chair—“and boss me around from there. I’m here to help.”
Chuckling, Sheila shakes her head and points to a box with the seltzer logo on the side.
I grab it and head to restock the fridge, eyes flicking toward the door every few seconds.
I’ve lost count of how many times this week I’ve talked myself out of seeing Cassie again.
She’s in my head even when I’m not texting her, and this is not like me.
If I’m not recording at the studio, I usually dip out of Singing River and all the memories it contains.
My escape is Nashville, barhopping on Broadway, flirting too much, and warming beds I have no business being in.
Not that any of that ever fixes the problem for long anyway.
But not this weekend.
No, this weekend I’ve had other plans. Plans I didn’t mention to my brother, Ryan, when I texted to let him know I’d be staying in town. This weekend I’ve been dead set on seeing exactly one woman, come hell or high water.
And it’s a good thing I’m here. Shit’s about to hit the fan with that photo of Austin and Penny out in the world.
It makes my blood boil thinking about it.
Penny is salt of the earth, one of the best people I know, and Austin seems like a good guy haunted by some bad choices. I can’t imagine how they must feel.
Then there’s Cassie. Being Austin’s sister can’t be easy on her, which is why I thought a night here might do her some good. Old Town Tavern is good for exactly one thing: distraction.
And the place is packed tonight. It seems everyone within a forty-mile radius crawled out of the woodwork to have a drink. Let’s just hope I can keep up with orders, seeing how it’s been a while since I bartended.
My phone screen lights up with an incoming text, my eyes flicking quickly to see if it’s Cassie.
Lacey
Hope you’ll be in town tonight.
Lacey
Thought we could get together.
Shit, that’s an issue I’ve got to handle. Lacey was the no-expectations, casual hookup I had on my last trip to Nashville. I fucked up and gave her my number, but I’d almost forgotten she exists with the sudden presence of Cassie. I’m a total asshole.
Lacey was nice, pretty, and a good time. But I’ve gotta cut that off. Gotta rip off the proverbial Band-Aid. I put the last seltzer in the fridge and shoot her a response.
Sorry, Lace. It’ll be a while before I’m back in Nashville.
Thanks for a good time though.
I hit send before thinking twice, but by her response, thanks for a good time was the wrong thing to say.
Lacey
You’ve got to be kidding me. Asshole. Consider yourself blocked.
Well, that doesn’t make me feel great. I like to think I’m a decent enough guy, and I always make my intent perfectly clear. I’m not looking for anything serious. That’s not a path I’ll travel back on. I thought Lacey and I had an understanding.
I delete her contact and exhale. I hate that I hurt her feelings, but I made the right call. She can’t go getting attached or catching feelings.
I’m wiping down the bar when the doors open, but it’s not Cassie, just a couple of coaches from the local high school.
They push through the crowd to the bar and order two old-fashioneds.
One asks for top-shelf bourbon, and it takes all I’ve got not to roll my eyes.
Everybody knows you don’t mix with the good shit. That’s for sipping.
I’m handing the guys their drinks when the doors open, and finally, finally, she’s here.
Standing on the threshold, evening sunshine spills in around her, bathing her in a halo of golden light.
Cassie steps inside and the crowd shifts just enough for her eyes to find mine.
When they do she wiggles her fingers in a tiny wave.
As she walks my way I drink her in. Her hair is loose tonight, spilling down her back and across one shoulder and her cheeks are flushed from the walk. After my first sweep, my eyes make their way down and up again for another hit of her.
Fuck me, this woman.
The heads of several men turn in appreciation as she pushes through the crowd and I feel it before I can do a damn thing about it.
A territorial surge that has nothing to do with being friends.
If she has any clue that every male in the room is watching her, she doesn’t show it.
She could have her pick tonight, and the thought has me gripping the edge of the bar so hard my knuckles turn white.
She reaches me, a smirk playing on those pretty pink lips when she spots the note still taped to the barstool.
“This seat taken?” she asks, un-taping the sign and placing it face down on the bar.
“Reserved for this hot brunette who just walked in.” I motion for her to take a seat and place both hands flat on the bar. “What’ll it be?”
“What are you good at mixing?”
But Coach Top Shelf can’t read the room. He interrupts us, clearing his throat and rattling the ice in his glass, impatiently. I hold up a finger to let him know I heard him but he’s gonna wait a minute longer just for being an ass.
“I can make just about anything,” I tell Cassie, dropping my voice. “But the drink of the night is the pretty girl special.”
Cassie’s eyebrows knit together. “The pretty girl special?” she repeats. “Isn’t that basically whatever I order, but on the house?”
“Bingo.” I shoot her a wink and start pouring bourbon for the old- fashioned.
A tiny blonde wearing a birthday sash steps up, followed by a procession of loud friends who likely pregamed before heading here.
She announces it’s her twenty-first, and after checking her ID, I wish her happy birthday and swipe her debit card, making a mental note to keep an eye on how much she and her friends order tonight.
Finally, there’s a lull, and I turn back to Cassie, one eyebrow quirked.
“What’ll it be?”
“How about a martini, extra dirty.” The way she says the words “extra dirty” sounds salacious falling from her lips, like foreplay, and by the glint in her eyes, she knows it.
I mix her drink and hand it over, allowing my fingers to brush hers. Her teeth sink into her lower lip, but she avoids eye contact as she takes a sip of her martini.
Leaning on the bar again, I study her. She’s twisting her gold hoops, something I’ve quickly learned she does when she’s nervous.
“You okay, Cassie?” I ask, voice a low murmur.
She looks up, shoulders rising with a small sigh.
“The last hour was a lot. In the past, I’ve watched my brother struggle from a distance.
Having a front seat to it hit differently.
I’m still not sure I should be here. Austin looked a wreck.
But he told me he was fine, and I know how he is. So, here I am.”
“Here you are,” I repeat, tapping my knuckles on the wooden surface.
And thank god she is.
We fall into light and easy conversation while she sips her drink.
A sitcom plays on the television behind me but it’s muted, and Cassie laughs when I narrate plot lines and dialogue out loud.
Soon though, she’s joined me and before we know it, we’ve gotten the characters entangled in an entirely fictitious story involving spies and espionage with some light bribery and subterfuge.
Every few minutes I’m called away to pour a beer, run a tab, or wipe down a table. But I always return to my place in front of Cassie.
Two hours slip by, while Cassie’s laughs come easier and there’s a light in her eyes that has nothing to do with the martini she drank and everything to do with having a place to relax for a while. The worry isn’t erased entirely. How could it be? It’s more like it’s softened around the edges.
She’s just opening her mouth to say something when the doors burst open and all heads turn to the entrance. A guy, probably mid-twenties, hair gelled within an inch of its life, comes striding in talking loudly to his buddies. Loud enough I can hear him over the crowd.
“Dude, that was totally him. I swear on my life it was Austin James.”
His buddies scoff, but the guy keeps talking.
“I was in the pit last time he was in Nashville, you fuckers. I know what he looks like.”
They reach the bar, still talking back and forth about whether or not it was actually the Austin James, when I interrupt them.
“You saw Austin James? In Singing River? Highly unlikely, pal.”
The whole group turns to me and the loud one starts up again.
“Maybe he’s just passing through. Who knows? But I was walking into Lucky’s Liquor Store and there he was at the register. Dude was lookin’ rough, too. Like he’s one bottle away from rehab.”
Jaw ticking, I plant my palms on the bar top, leaning in to be sure he hears me.
“Maybe let’s not talk about things you know nothing about,” I say, trying to keep the bite out of my voice.
He raises both hands, eyes widening. “What? I’m just saying—”
“We all heard what you said. Now, how ’bout you drop it.”
Across from me, Cassie has stiffened, face pale and eyes blinking wide.
“I need to go,” she says in a rush and grabs her purse.
“Cassie, wait!” I call after her.
Sheila, overhearing the commotion, steps up, leaning in so only I can hear her.
“I’ve got this, Liam. Austin needs you two more than I do.”
“But your back,” I protest.
“Mom, I’ve got this,” Jackson announces, appearing out of nowhere and pushing through the crowd that’s gathered near the bar. “Diner closed early. I’ve heard enough to know you two better get going. I’ll cover here.”
Without a second’s hesitation, I’m chasing Cassie out into the night.
“Cassie!” I call out, jerking my head to where my truck is parked. “Come on. I’m driving.”
She nods, lip trembling and follows me.
Yes, it only takes a minute to get to Penny’s house, but it feels like ages.
Cassie’s worry and fear roll off her in waves.
Truth be told, I’m a little worried what we’ll find, too.
I don’t know what kind of drunk Austin is, and I’d hate to punch the guy if he’s an ass to his sister, no matter what he’s going through.
As we approach, I see a figure sitting on the steps of Penny’s front porch. A very Austin-shaped figure, bottle tipped to his mouth.
Cassie climbs out before I’ve even cut the engine, darting across the front lawn.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Austin! Is this how you want to live your life? Just like Dad?” She practically spits the word Dad.
Austin lowers the bottle, squinting his eyes. I don’t know how much he’s had, but the guy is already three sheets to the wind.
“I’m already him, Cass,” Austin slurs. “I’m already him.” Reaching for his phone, he holds it up and tosses it to the ground. “Father dearest called to remind me earlier. Said I’m nothing but a drunk like him. I will ruin Penny’s life.”
Cassie deflates, sinking onto the step next to him.
Crossing my arms, I study my boots, trying to give them privacy, but voices carry.
Every few seconds, I catch snippets of conversation.
Cassie saying something about repeating the sins of their father, to which Austin responds with a shrug and another pull from the bottle.
At one point she tries prying the bottle from his hands, but he’s stronger.
I think I might have to intervene, but then Cassie stands and heads my way, face tear-streaked.
“We need to get Penny.”
The next twenty minutes pass in a blur from Cassie pounding on Josie’s door, to Penny following her to my truck.
My adrenaline is pumping, heart racing, listening to Cassie summarize the last hour for Penny.
At Penny’s house, Austin is nowhere in sight, but I have to swerve into the yard to avoid all the shards of glass glittering the driveway.
From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow pass by a window in the apartment.
“He’s in your apartment,” I say, pointing.
Penny is out of my truck and running up the stairs to only god knows what. I can tell Cassie wants to follow, but I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze.
“What do you say we let Penny handle things tonight, Cassie?”
Cassie turns to me, lip trembling, eyes brimming with tears, and I open my arms, letting her collapse into me.
In the span of a single week, I’ve observed a few things about her. She’s funnier than she means to be and smart as hell. Even with all the shit her ex put her through, she’s pushing through to be her best self. And she’s trusting me with that.
I’ve spent a good bit of time keeping people at a comfortable distance. Easy company, easy exits. But with Cassie it’s different. She makes me want to be someone she can count on, and that’s not something I’ve wanted in a while now.
As this beautiful woman falls apart in my arms, a fierce surge of protectiveness pulls tight beneath my breastbone, and I vow to be the best friend Cassandra James has ever, or will ever have.
There’s a lot going on in her life, things I’m in the dark about, and if a day comes when she starts to crumble under the weight of it, I’ll be there to hold her up.