Chapter Six #2
Cassie remembered. The boys had been circling the edge, arguing over who’d be man enough to jump first, all puffed up and stalling. Sick of all their blustering, she stepped past and dove in.
“Shit, sorry,” she said, blowing out a breath. Ollie didn’t deserve her ire—not really. “I’m just…tired. And Tate is one serious piece of shit.”
“Hell, you don’t owe me an apology,” Ollie replied, flicking his fingers. “And yeah—Tate’s…Tate. Can’t think of a soul who’d argue otherwise.”
He motioned up the street. “Listen…there’s a diner one block over—the Blue Rooster. You wanna join me for a coffee?”
Cassie blinked. The Blue Rooster was still standing?
She hadn’t thought of that place in years—the bright neon bird out front, the sticky vinyl booths, curse words and initials carved into every tabletop.
Back then it had been the hangout, where kids from all over the county crowded in after football games or school dances, wasting away their weekends tossing back burned coffee and pie.
She had a hundred memories tied to that place—good ones, too…
“No pressure,” Ollie quickly added. “Just figured if you’ve got a few minutes, I could treat.”
Cassie glanced around with a hard sigh. All she really wanted to do was to crawl back into Margie’s guest bed and bury her face in a pillow. But since she’d done nothing but sleep since arriving, maybe a cup of bad coffee at her old stomping ground wasn’t the worst idea.
“You know what…I could actually use a cup. Just…um, let me put this in my car first.”
The Blue Rooster had changed almost beyond recognition.
The glowing sign was gone, replaced by an artfully weathered wooden board, its name painted in curling script.
The quilted curtains had been swapped for macramé, the vinyl booths torn out.
In their place stood mismatched café tables and painted ladder-back chairs.
Bulbs on strings crisscrossed the ceiling, softening the light.
The greasy spoon she’d loved looked every inch a country-bohemian café now… with one exception.
The walls were untouched, still carrying a century of Redwater County lives—from the black-and-white snapshots of 1925 coal crews to the matte-colored portraits of the most current graduating class.
“Hey, Vi,” Ollie called toward the counter. “Gonna grab my usual, all right?”
Seated beside the register, a young woman lounged with her phone. She wore dark-green coveralls and black platform boots. Her dark hair was tied up in a red bandana, a gold ring glinting from her septum.
Cassie stopped short. “Vi…” Her eyes widened. “Little Violet Kincaid?”
The woman looked up, a glossy red smile spreading across her face. “Little Violet,” she echoed with a laugh. “Haven’t heard that in years.”
The last time Cassie had seen her, Violet had been nine, maybe ten—running circles around her grandma while the elder Violet worked the floor.
The Blue Rooster had been their family’s business since the peak of the mining years, back when every shift ended with men crowding the counter for coffee and pie.
Violet’s parents had died in a car wreck on the county highway back when Cassie was a teenager and maybe because of that loss, Cassie had always felt a quiet kinship with the girl, always stopping to chat whenever she spotted her out.
“Violet,” Cassie continued, stepping toward her. “It’s Cassie—Cassie Berry.”
Violet squinted, then her eyes lit. “Cassie? Holy hell, I didn’t recognize you without all that crazy hair!” Her shoes thudded as she hit the floor, pulling Cassie into a tight hug.
“Holy hell is right,” Cassie groaned. Violet stood half a foot taller than her now, built with the strength of a cellist haing to heft her instrument day after day. Little Violet definitely wasn’t little anymore.
“What’re you doin’ back?” Violet asked bright, releasing her grip. “You here for a funeral or a foreclosure?”
Cassie blinked—and then burst out laughing.
“Both,” she breathed through laughter. Meanwhile, Ollie looked stunned, glancing between her and Violet’s baffled face, which only made Cassie laugh harder. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to smother it, shoulders shaking.
“Connor’s…gone,” Ollie gritted out quietly to Violet.
Another laugh shrieked free, strained around the edges. Tears pricked Cassie’s eyes, and she had to force a slow, steady breath, willing herself back under control.
“Oh-my-Jesus,” Violet whispered, stricken. “I’m so goddamn sorry, Cas—I didn’t know…”
Cassie shook her head, waving that away. “No, no, you’re totally fine.” She choked out another strained chuckle and cleared her throat. “If anyone gets it, it’s you. And to be honest, I needed the laugh.”
For a moment, no one spoke, and Cassie had to fight back the urge to laugh again despite the tears that still threatened.
“Well, hell,” Violet said somberly. “Coffees on the house, pastries too. You two go on and pick your seats and I’ll fix your cups.”
Ollie, still looking rattled, silently guided Cassie toward a table in the far corner by the window.
Sitting, her eyes drifted over the mining crew portraits lining the nearest wall and snagged on a familiar face.
Her father grinned back at her—young and broad, even younger than she was now.
Dressed in blackened coveralls, dust smeared across his face, his arms were slung around two men who looked just as proud.
The growl of his truck pulling into the drive rattled in her memory.
The slam of the door echoed. She saw herself flying barefoot down the steps, leaping into his arms as he reached the porch.
His hard hat would clatter to the ground when he caught her, squeezing her tight.
Hey there, Fiddlebean, he’d laugh into her hair. Miss me?
Her chest going tight, she tore her gaze from the photo and fixed on the view of the street through the window instead.
“I’m real sorry ‘bout that,” Ollie muttered. “Violet’s…she’s—”
“She’s great,” Cassie interrupted. “Really—I’m not upset.”
“You sure? ‘Cause, I—”
“Ollie,” she cut him off again, firmer. “Listen, I’m fine. Can we please talk about something else? Like—like, how the hell you ended up with a badge. I really need details. I mean, you hated rules more than Con did. You used to get detention for funsies.”
Chuckling, Ollie leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, well. People can change, can’t they? Take yourself—”
Violet appeared before Ollie could finish, balancing two steaming mugs and a plate piled high with handmade sweets.
“On the house,” she said, her smile faltering as she looked at Cassie.
“And Cas—I'm real sorry. I didn’t mean no harm, I promise. Gram always said I got my daddy’s height and my mama’s penchant for talkin’ out of turn.
” She gave a quick, self-conscious laugh.
“All right then, y’all holler if you need anything.
” She hurried off, stealing another sheepish glance as she went.
Cassie watched her disappear behind the counter, smiling wryly. Turning back to Ollie, she wrapped her hands around her mug and took swallow. “What were you saying?”
“How people can change,” he replied around a mouthful of cookie. “Like me havin’ a badge now, and you not being on the back of Nash’s bike no more.”
Cassie’s grip on her mug tightened. “Still, we both grew up in the same town. We learned early not to trust the law. That doesn’t go away just because you leave.”
She left it there, unwilling to touch the part about Nash. Not now. Not ever.
“Honestly?” Ollie shrugged. “Part of me still feels the same. But the whole county went to hell—all them factory jobs dried up, drugs started pouring in. People dyin’, and nobody doin’ a damn thing.”
He lifted his coffee, taking a slow sip.
“And after a while, I started seein’ it different.
Nobody on the ridge would even talk to the law when folks should’ve been workin’ together.
Figured maybe I could help—make some kind of difference, bridge that goddamn gap—but…
” He shook his head. “Never mind all that. What about you? You still performing?”
Cassie caught the hesitation in his voice and, for a moment, wasn’t sure which to address. Clearing her throat, she said, “Uh, yeah. Still performing. I play first violin with the Hudson Philharmonic during the main season.”
Ollie nodded. “So, the main season—that mean you get summers off then…like teachers?”
“I would,” she replied, “Except I’m part of the Gemini Ensemble too—we do the international circuit.”
The Geminis were still in France where she’d left them, carrying on without her.
They’d be there another week before moving on to Prague—she felt a pang thinking about it.
Her phone was still stacked with their messages, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. Maybe tomorrow. Definitely not today.
Ollie let out a low whistle. “Sounds fancy.”
Cassie coughed out a laugh. “Not really. I basically live out of a suitcase all summer. But the performances are a lot more fun than the Philharmonic—and so are the people.”
The Gemini Ensemble was exactly what the name suggested: everything in twos. Monteverdi and Billie Eilish. Schubert and Lana Del Rey. Half the ensemble in dark, half in light, moving as they played, crossing and recrossing until it felt like the music itself was pulling the strings.
“So there you go,” Ollie said. “People can change.”
Cassie hummed noncommittally, lacking the energy to argue. Everything around her had shifted—her friends, her work, even the ground she was standing on—but she still felt like herself. Guarded. Stubborn. Still doing reckless shit like storming the Kings’ bar with a baseball bat.
She took another sip of coffee. “Your turn. You thought you could make a difference…but what? What aren’t you saying?”
Ollie looked at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “Nah. You've got enough on your plate.”