1. Brielle

Ipulled up to the ancient farmhouse, my sports car sputtering and coughing over my muttered objections. Smoke billowed out from under the hood in thick, acrid plumes as I turned off the engine with a resigned sigh. Just my luck. First my life falls apart, now my damn car.

I sat there for a moment, hands still gripping the steering wheel, staring at the freshly-weeded flowerbeds and sagging porch of my new home. If I could even call it that. This place was a far cry from the sleek city loft I was used to. But beggars can't be choosers, and after the mess with my father, I didn't have much choice.

Sighing, I grabbed my designer luggage from the backseat, the expensive leather looking out of place next to the rusted sedan parked nearby. As I lugged my bags towards the house, I felt the weight of everything pressing down on me. The scandal, the debts, the broken relationships. It all clung to me like a shadow I couldn't shake.

The porch steps creaked under my feet as I approached the front door, my heart pounding in my chest. I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated. What was I even doing here? Cassidy had every right to turn me away after the way my side of the family had treated her. My father fed his daughters a steady diet of complaints and curses about his deadbeat sister and her equally awful daughter, and we were eager to giddily tell Cassidy all her faults every time Grandma summoned us to Crescent Hollow under the guise of "family bonding."

But explanations were not excuses, and I had nowhere else to go.

Taking a deep breath, I rapped my knuckles against the weathered wood. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing Cassidy's surprised face. Her gray eyes widened as she took in my disheveled appearance. Hair falling out of a ponytail, wrinkled clothes three seasons out of style, chipped nail polish. We'd ragged on her for making mud pies as a kid, but now she looked radiant while I was the hot mess.

"Brielle? What are you doing here?"

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Cass, I... I'm sorry to just show up like this, but I didn't know where else to turn." My voice cracked on the last word, and I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Cassidy's expression softened, and she stepped forward, enveloping me in a warm hug. I stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected gesture, before melting into her embrace. Her familiar scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapped around me like a comforting blanket.

"Come on inside," she murmured, pulling back to usher me through the doorway. "You look like you could use a hot meal and a good night's sleep."

I followed her into the cozy living room, the hardwood floor groaning under my heels. The space was filled with mismatched furniture and colorful quilts our grandmother had spent hours crafting, so different from the sleek, modern aesthetic of my city apartment. But there was a warmth here, a sense of home that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Cassidy led me up the creaky stairs to the first room on the left. My usual guest spot, with all the lipstick hearts and kisses from my last stay scrubbed off the mirror.

Embarrassment burned my cheeks. I didn't even have teenage brain to blame for that. No, that airheaded asshole creating more work for someone else had been all me.

I sank down onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. The events of the past year replayed in my mind like a bad movie. I had thought I could handle it all on my own, but I was drowning. And now here I was, showing up on my cousin's doorstep like a lost puppy.

Cassidy settled beside me, her brow furrowed with concern. "What happened, Brielle? What's going on?"

My throat tightened. I traced the pattern of the faded quilt, struggling to find the words. "After Brittany's wedding, everything just... fell apart."

Cassidy merely nodded, not a single word about us forcing our way into her life or the unholy treatment she'd endured.

Grandma, too, if I was being honest. Brittany had been such a bitch about not wanting old lady smell ruining her wedding aesthetic. She didn't even bother to send flowers after Grandma passed.

"Dad vanished without a trace, leaving behind all these debts and angry business partners demanding to be paid." My fingers did another loop around a quilted petal. "Brittany and Ian are too busy fighting over unpaid wedding vendors to even notice how bad things are for anyone else. Mom is pretending everything is fine, but that's just the wine cellar in St. Kitts talking. And Brooke?" I let out a hollow laugh. "She took off, escaping on some rich sheik's yacht to party away all the family drama."

I tugged at a loose thread, my gaze fixed on the frayed carpet. "Then Sven decided we were done. He showed up at the Met Gala with the next Taylor Swift on his arm and let the tabloids do the final breakup for him." A sigh punctuated my rolled eyes and I fell back on the bed. "I couldn't even afford a little retail therapy to draw horns on his pictures because Daddy Dearest cleared out the accounts."

Cassidy reached over, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. "I'm so sorry, Brielle. That's a lot to handle on your own." Her eyes searched mine, a question lurking in the gray. "What about your dad? Any idea where he might be?"

I tensed, pulling my hand away. The mere mention of Barrett Simmons sent a chill down my spine. "No clue. He's probably off on some private island, sipping cocktails and laughing at the mess he's left behind." I tried to keep my tone light, but the bitterness seeped through.

Cassidy's frown deepened. "You don't think he's in trouble, do you? I mean, disappearing like that..."

I pushed myself up from the bed, suddenly feeling trapped by the small room and the weight of Cassidy's questions. I didn't know anything. All the idolization went into the trash. As angry as the creditors were, they had nothing on the hurt I carried. Barrett Simmons could be a mean prick, but he was still my father.

Until he had no use for me.

"Look, can we just... grab a drink or something?" I huffed another sigh. "I would really love to forget the Simmons family drama for a little while."

Cassidy hesitated for a moment, clearly wanting to press further, but she must have seen the desperation in my eyes. She nodded, a small smile softening her features. "Whatever you need, Brielle. There's a little bar in town, but be warned it's pretty low-key."

The polite way of saying don't yuck on my small town yum.

Still, relief washed over me, and I felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders. "If it has alcohol, I will love it."

* * *

"...sothe repairs on the house should be mostly finished before autumn. Or at least the bigger ones. I'm not too worried about repairing any fencing when we're not sure if replacing with a new style would be better."

I glanced up when two pints of amber liquid slid across the table. Cassidy flashed a grateful smile at the bartender. "Thanks, Jackson."

My gaze followed her line of sight to the man who had delivered our drinks. Tall, with tousled hair pushed back from his face and piercing green eyes, he exuded an air of casual confidence. A slight smirk played on his lips as he gave a lazy nod. "You got it, Cass."

I echoed her sentiment, forcing a tight smile. "Yeah, thanks."

As he sauntered away, I dropped my eyes to the table. The back of my neck prickled with the curious attention of the other patrons. Their looks lingered a moment too long, making it clear I was an outsider in their rustic tavern.

Or a zoo attraction.

The place was a far cry from my typical drinking holes in any city. Some might have specialized in vintage chic, but Hollow Leg was the real deal. The cracked leather of the booths and barstools would be out of place in those faux aged interiors. The photos on those walls would show the sparkling smiles of celebrities, not the old tintypes of Crescent Hollow's former residents.

Cassidy seemed oblivious to my discomfort as she gestured around the dimly lit space. "That couple in the corner booth? That's Regina and Dillon, recently ma—married." She chuckled nervously and hurried on. "Oh, and there's Declan. He's helping Max with repairs on the house."

The door swung open, a gust of cool night air momentarily disrupting the tavern's warm ambiance. Max, Cassidy's husband, stepped inside, his broad shoulders filling the entryway. A few patrons called out greetings, their voices carrying easily across the space.

His gaze found Cassidy instantly, his whole demeanor softening as if just the sight of her soothed everything wrong in his world. With purposeful strides, he wove through the growing crowd to reach our table tucked away in the corner.

Cassidy's face lit up, obvious affection washing over her features as Max leaned down. Their lips met in a quick kiss, his calloused palm cradling her cheek with a tenderness that stabbed at my chest.

I clutched my beer, feeling like an outsider intruding on their intimate moment. The last time I'd been around Max and Cassidy together was at Brittany's wedding the year before. Brooke had downed her bodyweight in booze and tried throwing herself at Max. Just to take something from Cassidy. No other reason.

I disappeared shortly after Brooke threw a drink in Max's face for daring to stay faithful to Cassidy. Running off with a hot wedding crasher had seemed a better end to the festivities than listening to Brooke talk shit.

And then Dad disappeared for real, and the money dried up as the calls and ‘friendly' visits turned angrier.

Max sank into the booth next to Cassidy, a lopsided grin playing at the corners of his mouth. Turning towards me, he offered a pleasant, if cautious, nod. "Nice to see you again, Brielle."

"Hey." I returned the gesture with what I hoped was a convincing smile, and not that of an envious snake.

I gripped my beer tighter as Max and Cassidy settled into easy conversation, catching up on each other's days. The gentle cadence of their voices, the casual intimacy in their body language—it was like an aching bruise being constantly prodded. A reminder of everything I'd never really had.

Sven wasn't The One. Charlie before him, either. They'd been fun and exciting, and that was it. No lighting up the moment I entered the room or eagerness to talk with, not at.

"—so after replacing that alternator, I should be able to tackle the wiring on your car tomorrow," Max said, toying with Cassidy's fingers.

"It's no rush. The weather is still nice enough to walk to the diner. Besides," Cassidy bumped Max with her shoulder and offered me a shy smile, "I know someone who might need to jump the line on the family discount."

The selflessness punched right through me. As did Max's polite hum of agreement.

I'd been awful. My whole family had been awful.

"I'm sorry."

The words tumbled out of my mouth. Cassidy's brow furrowed in confusion. "Sorry? For what?"

I drew in a sharp breath, the scent of stale beer and woodsmoke burning my nostrils. "For how Brittany and Brooke treated you. For how I just stood by and let it happen." My fingers tightened around the glass until my knuckles whitened. "Not just at the wedding, but… our whole lives."

Cassidy's eyes widened, and she exchanged a quick glance with Max before turning back to me. There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.

Then, finally, she let out a soft sigh. "Brielle, you don't have to?—"

"No, I do." I shook my head adamantly. "You were always so kind, so welcoming... and we were horrible to you. You deserved so much better than how we acted."

Her face softened, the lines around her eyes crinkling. "I appreciate you saying that. Really." She offered me a small smile, and I couldn't help but return it, some of the tension ebbing from my shoulders. "We're family, Brielle. What's in the past can stay in the past."

Max stayed quiet, his expression unreadable as he watched the exchange. I got the sense he was reserving judgment, maintaining a protective stance until he deemed my sincerity genuine.

I shifted in my seat, uneasy under the scrutiny from them both. The old wooden booth creaked as I slid to my feet. "Let me buy the next round."

I snagged the empty pints and headed for the bar, eager to escape the emotion of our little corner. The soles of my heels clicked against the scuffed hardwood as I approached the weathered bar top. A few of the patrons shot curious looks my way, but I kept my gaze focused straight ahead, fighting the urge to hunch my shoulders.

"What can I get you?" The bartender, Jackson—if I remembered correctly from Cassidy's introductions—leaned against the counter, arms folded across his broad chest.

"Three more of whatever you poured us." I fished my wallet from my purse, grimacing at how light it felt. But what was the point of lugging around plastic for dead accounts? "And... a shot of whiskey for me, I guess."

Jackson's eyebrows inched upwards, but he didn't comment. With a deft flick of his wrist, he grabbed a glass and filled it with an amber liquid from one of the countless bottles lining the mirrored shelves behind the bar.

I downed the whiskey in one burning gulp, letting it sear away the bitter taste of shame and regret coating my tongue. This move to Crescent Hollow marked a new beginning, a fresh start after the spectacular crumbling of my life over the last year.

No more living off Daddy's money.

No more turning a blind eye to keep the wealth and status flowing.

Maybe I didn't deserve Cassidy's forgiveness yet. But out here, in this remote little town, I could start making amends. I could be the kind of person who deserved a selfless, sweet cousin.

Gathering the fresh drinks, I headed back to our corner booth, holding my head a little higher. Just before I reached the table, a familiar voice made me stumble.

"Hey, grease monkey!"

I spun towards the sound, nearly sloshing beer over the rim of the glasses. My heart lodged in my throat as I met the surprised eyes of my favorite wedding crasher.

Recognition crashed through the green, then raw heat began to simmer, flushing my cheeks with warmth. His lips curved into a smirk that had haunted far too many of my dreams over the past year. I swallowed hard against the sudden lump in my throat as his gaze roamed over me, a spark of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Orion.