by Erika Kelly
And, then, the worst thing of all, I lost a part of myself.
He’d done that, carved out a piece of this vibrant, smart, independent, sexy, wildly talented woman. He’d known he’d hurt her, of course—he would never forget her expression that night—but he hadn’t known the extent of the damage he’d caused.
Gutted, he couldn’t say a word. He’d had this cocky notion that he could help her heal, but that was before he’d learned he’d fractured her sense of self.
“But…” Her whole demeanor changed, her vulnerability gone. “The good news is, once we turn in this last album, the world’s my oyster.”
She’d mistaken his silence for disinterest. And that was unacceptable. He didn’t know how to heal her, but he had to start somewhere. “I’m sorry.”
“What? No, I have a lot of options. And I have enough money that I can take some time to figure out—”
“For hurting you.”
“Oh.” Her legs shifted, and she glanced down at her finger. She must’ve noticed she’d cut off the circulation, because she unwound the thread.
“I should’ve told you long before now.” He touched her chin, and she jerked. “But I never slept with Ashton.”
She got riled up again, whispering harshly, “Fuck you, Cassian.” She shot a look to the driver, but he was still listening to the music. “Don’t you dare lie to me. I saw you go up the stairs with her.”
“You know what I did when I got to the top of the stairs? I turned around and watched you leave the party. Then, I told Ashton I had to go home. Didn’t she tell you?”
“She said she was sorry, that she was drunk, she didn’t mean it… but I saw her. She meant it. And there’s no doubt in my mind she’d have slept with you if you’d wanted.”
“I didn’t sleep with her. I didn’t want to. I swear.”
She held his gaze, her expression fraught with uncertainty. “What difference does it make? Whether you had sex with her or not, you wanted to hurt me…and you did.”
The pain in her voice tore him to shreds. “There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for doing it.”
“Why, Cassian? Why did you do it?”
He’d played out this conversation countless times in his head. Over the years, he’d wanted to write a letter, an email, a text, but he’d never followed through. There wasn’t a damn thing he could say to make it better.
But she asked, and so he’d answer. “I did it to push you away.”
“Ha. Well, you always were an over-achiever.”
It hadn’t taken long to leave the city limits. Cornfields surrounded them on either side of the two-lane road. He had one shot. He had to get it right. “You remember that afternoon your dad caught us in the treehouse?”
“I knew it.” Her hand slapped the seat between them. “What did he say to you?”
“He came over to my uncle’s that night. I was shitting my pants, because your dad…I mean, he’d given me so much, and I thought he was done with me.”
“Done with you for what? For being my friend? We hadn’t done anything. We were just friends.” She let out a huff. “What did he say?”
“That he’d do whatever it took to get me recruited, drafted, the whole nine yards.”
“If you stayed away from me.” She tipped her head back. “I knew it. You changed after that. I knew he’d said something. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Hang on. Let me tell you the whole story. He said you and I were on different paths, that lots of people dreamed of being football players or rock stars or whatever, but that you and I had the raw talent to back it up. He said we could realize our dreams—as long as we didn’t hold each other back. He asked me to give you a chance to fulfill your potential. And if I couldn’t make that promise, he’d have to stop working with me.”
“You should’ve told me. I would’ve talked to him. My parents—”
“He was right. That night, at the party, you said you’d go to Michigan.”
“Yes, because it’s a good program. We could have been together. I mean, obviously, you wanted to be free to have your fun. I’m sure I scared you…but you could’ve just told me the truth.”
“You’re damn right you scared me. Because that was the first time I realized you felt the same way about me. And that drove it home, what your dad was saying. The way we felt about each other…we would’ve made the wrong decisions. You needed to go to Julliard or Berklee. And, even though I wanted to be selfish and have you come with me, I couldn’t let you do that.”
“You wanted me to come with you? I figured you wanted to be free to hook up with every girl on campus.”
“You couldn’t be further from the truth.” You’ve got one shot here. Take it. “I…honestly, I didn’t think I’d survive without you. After…”
“After you slept with my best friend?”
He gave her a look that said, Come on. “I didn’t sleep with her. But I was going to say, after I pushed you away, I thought about blowing off Michigan and just going wherever you went. And I’d have done it, too, but…what would that have accomplished? What, I’d follow you around the world as you wrote and played your music? You’d lose all respect for me. And I just didn’t see a solution that worked.”
“Well, kissing Ashton wasn’t it.”
“I know that. It wasn’t planned.” He cracked the window, just for some fresh air, because he was burning up. “I don’t think you know how hard it was for me not to touch you. Every time we were together…it killed me. And then to finally kiss you…it messed me up.”
“You’ve obviously recovered.”
“I’ve never recovered.”
“Really? Because it looks like you’re having the time of your life.”
“Well, I’m not.” Keep going. “But you should also know that Amie’s not my girlfriend.”
“Oh, my God.” She shook her head, looking disgusted. “You’re obviously together. I saw you two all cozy on the plane. Not to mention the picture of you two that went viral.”
“It hasn’t gone live yet, but…wait, I’ve got the security footage right here.” He swiped the screen of his phone and opened his email. When he found Dean’s video, he handed it over.
Gigi sat quietly, watching the whole thing. It was only a few minutes—Amie doing a strip tease, him leaping onto the diving board, and then taking the towel from Dean. The video ended after Cassian handed her the shirt.
She gave the phone back. “So, no threesome?”
“No threesome.”
“Because a Cassian and Dean sandwich…” She tried for humor, and he knew it meant she was relieved. Everything she’d believed had turned out to be untrue. “I’m just saying.”
“There’s nothing between me and Amie. She runs my football camp, that’s it.”
She didn’t look convinced. “She touches you like you’re her boyfriend.”
“That’s Amie. It’s her personality. But if you pay attention, you’ll see I’m not touching her.” He wanted to spell it out. “I’ve never slept with her.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, you forgive me? Or okay, you don’t give a shit?”
“Honestly? I don’t know what I feel. Everything you said just now…you shook my world and…and now I have to see where all the pieces land.”
Chapter Seven
Times like these, Gigi loved Lollipop songs. They were upbeat and positive, and no matter how silly the lyrics might be, every single person in this wing of the hospital was smiling, bopping their heads, and having a good time.
She scanned the faces of the kids, and a rush of happiness hit her so hard she stumbled over the next chords. Laughing, she got her focus back and continued on.
But right then, Cassian came around the corner, his hair tousled from the convertible Mustang. Those broad shoulders and bulging biceps, along with that easy grin…no wonder women stuffed their numbers into his pockets everywhere he went.
He looked happy, confident, like he was on
top of the world.
She finished the song. “Well, that’s it for me.” The room burst into applause. A couple people whistled. “Thanks so much. I had a blast with you guys.”
A young girl came rushing over, thrusting a T-shirt at her. “Can I please have your autograph?”
“You sure can. What’s your name?”
“Marissa. I’m named after my gramma. I have a brother. He was born so I could be alive.”
The world screeched to a stop. Gigi looked at this little girl who couldn’t be more than ten, with her freckles and gangly arms and legs, just bursting with positive energy.
Emotion, rose, crested, and crashed over her. “Well, he’s a very lucky boy.”
“Why’s he lucky?”
“Because he gets such a brave and strong older sister.” She signed the shirt and handed it back. “Can I have a hug, Marissa?”
The girl threw herself into Gigi’s arms. Cupping the back of her head, she said, “Thank you for making my day, Marissa.”
She should be heading down to the van, but she couldn’t resist watching Cassian hold court with his fans. As always, he was totally in the moment with them, looking each person in the eye, talking to them like they were old friends. He immersed himself in the experience.
A boy, who had to be around thirteen or fourteen, stood in front of him, talking a mile a minute. “I’m gonna play football, too. I’m trying out for the team when school starts, and I get to tell everyone I got to meet you. I’m going home tomorrow. I’m in remission.”
“Proud of you, man.” Cassian did some kind of fist bump handshake thing with him.
Another boy stepped forward, wearing Cassian’s jersey. He was a little more reserved. “I never miss your games.”
Cassian crouched to get eye-level with him. “Yeah? That’s cool. Let me know your name, so I can shout out to you during the season.”
“You’d do that?” The kid looked like he couldn’t believe it.
“You bet.”
“That would be the coolest thing ever. Thank you. It’s Paul. Paul Thomas.”
Out of nowhere, Cassian’s gaze shot over to her. Cymbals crashed, reverberating throughout her body. Heat flooded her. Their conversation in the long car ride, revealing that he’d had real feelings for her, that Amie wasn’t his girlfriend—it had changed things.
For so long, she’d held onto anger. Her victimhood.
And today he’d whisked it out from under her. All this time she’d thought he hadn’t felt the same way. It meant everything to her that he had.
If only he’d told her back then what he’d explained today…
I’d have gone to Michigan.
And my life would’ve turned out so differently.
Everything must’ve played out across her features, because Cassian got up, all his energy focused on her. It’s still there. They’d always been so connected—he could read her better than anybody.
Every cell in her body blossomed, opened…sang for him. She missed him, wanted him, craved him…
But her mind screamed, Run. She might understand things better, but that didn’t mean she could trust him.
And, so, heart pounding, palms clammy, she turned and walked away.
As Gigi started to wash the green facial mask off her face with a warm washcloth, someone knocked on her door.
Seriously? She was not going to have any me-time on this trip. “Coming.” Snatching a towel off the rack, she dried her hands and peered through the peephole.
Expecting either Grant—maybe he wanted to jam—or Kevin—to talk about tomorrow’s schedule—her heart flipped over at the sight of Cassian.
Without thinking, she opened the door. When his smile turned to surprise, she remembered the green mask. “Hey. What’s up?”
Normally, he had this air about him, like he never broke stride because he knew doors opened automatically for him. But standing in the doorway, his shoulders tight with tension, that stride had faltered. “There’s no group dinner tonight, so I thought we could go have some fun.”
Part of her was like hell, yes. But another, louder voice, urged her to keep her distance. “Thanks, but I’m having a spa night.”
“I see that.” He shifted his weight onto the other foot. “Have you eaten dinner?”
“No. I thought I’d just order in.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. There’s a kids’ soccer team staying here, and you’d scare the crap out of them if you came down to the restaurant looking like that. So, sure, you stay in.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to head out, then, to my homemade dinner. Mrs. Carson’s got some brisket, mashed potatoes, and apple cobbler for me. I asked her to make it for two, but…” He patted his stomach. “I had a light lunch.”
“Mrs. Carson? Is that a teammate’s mom?”
“Nah. I looked up interesting things to do in this part of Kansas. Found some good stuff.”
Crossing her arms over her stomach, she leaned against the door jam. “You know, you can just say it. You made plans for me.”
“That’s one approach.”
“The direct one. Out of curiosity, what exactly do you think’s going to happen if I go out with you?”
His unease flamed brighter. “I’m serious about fixing us. I want us to talk. I want you to talk to me.”
She wanted that very much. “Then, it better not be in a restaurant or any other public place. Because, let me tell you, it could get loud.”
“You say that as if I don’t know you.”
She was really curious now, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. “You can’t handle any more bad press, so another woman yelling at you…especially a Lollipop…?”
“It’s in a field.”
“You’re feeding me dinner in a field?”
“Yes, a large one. And I’m going to make you earn it.”
“Earn my dinner?” Oh, dammit all to hell, he was being charming and fun.
“That’s right. Everything’s better when it’s earned.”
“And what do I have to do to earn it?”
“You have to find your way through the second largest maze in the world.”
Like she could say no to that. “And what if I can’t find my way out?”
He lifted his hand, revealing a paper bag. “I’ve brought snacks.” He opened the bag and tilted it toward her.
“Twizzlers? That’s my dinner if I don’t make it out of the maze?”
He pulled out a bag of peanut M&Ms. “Protein.” He pulled out a box of fruit roll-ups. “I’ve covered the food groups, so if you fail, you won’t die in the maze. Because that would be embarrassing. To both of us.”
Charming, fun, and irresistible. I’m in. “Give me ten minutes.”
As they drove along a country road, Gigi caught glimpses of farmers on tractors, cows swishing tails in fields of green grass, and endless rows of waist-high cornstalks. “How far is this place?” They’d been in the rental car for nearly forty minutes.
“It’s the second largest maze in the world.” Cassian cut her a look. “It takes some serious acreage to pull that off.”
A big part of her wanted this—to feel like they were seventeen again. But another part didn’t like it. He acted like telling her the truth had lasered away the pain he’d caused. Like now they had a clean slate.
She took another bite of her frosted Strawberry PopTart.
“You’re not going to have room for dinner.”
“The odds of me making it through a maze are low. The horse flies alone will drive me back to the parking lot. Besides, I didn’t eat lunch.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we should let Kevin handle catering from now on. That meat…”
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”
“It looked like a crusty brown pot holder.”
She smiled. “That’s exactly what it looked like. I hope dinner in a field is better.”
“Trust me.”
Two simple words hi
t her bloodstream like ice. “Yeah, don’t hold your breath.”
“No, I didn’t mean…” Color spilled into his cheeks, and his lips sealed shut. A moment later, his hands flexed on the wheel. He looked stubbornly determined. “I’m well aware that I have a lot of work to do to earn your trust. I will do it.”
What’s the point? She wanted to ask. But she bit back the snarky come-back, because it meant the world that he cared enough to do it. She wiped her hands on a napkin. “This is weird. You and me in a car together.” Getting along.
“It’s nice.”
“I’m gonna stick with weird. I never thought I’d talk to you again.”
He went quiet for a moment, and she didn’t know if she’d made him uncomfortable. Like, here he was trying to fix things, and she just kept smacking him down.
But then he said, “I’ve missed you every day.” He kept his eyes on the road. “Every single day.”
Oh, God. His tone was drenched in despair. She wanted to reach out, touch those fingers that clenched the wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
But she wasn’t going to comfort him. “Well.” The car ate up endless miles of asphalt. Cornfields gave way to…sunflowers? Acres and acres of them loomed high on either side of the road. “I don’t know what to do with that. I really don’t. You say these things, but for nine years you’ve acted like you forgot all about me.”
“You think I could forget you? You were everything to me.”
“I honestly can’t believe I’m hearing this. I never in a million years could have imagined driving down a country road with you in Kansas, hearing you tell me the things I wanted to hear when I was seventeen.” She looked down at her hands. “I wish you’d told me back then. Everything would’ve been so different.”
“I couldn’t. I couldn’t do that to you or your dad. But I wish like hell I’d handled it differently.” He cut her a look. “I need you to hear me, Gigi. More than any other regret in my life, I wish I’d handled that moment differently.”
I do, too. “I hear you.” She said it softly, her voice thin. Because she heard his words, but they weren’t sinking in. It was like a summer rain on hard-packed, dry earth.