Chapter Eleven

Just over a week later, Cassidy stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and tried not to hyperventilate. The biggest event she'd ever been to in her life had been at her high school gymnasium. What the hell did you wear to the Ryman Auditorium that said I'm a serious human being who doesn't care that the star attraction tonight is my famous sister, but also I'm fascinating and sexy in my own right?

The minutes were counting down when finally she steadied herself. A little black dress was a cliche for a reason, and this one fit her like a glove. There was just enough skin on show and the insanely perfect cowboy boots Coral had insisted on buying her as a gift completed the outfit in a way that made her feel far more herself than any of the precarious heels in her new wardrobe. Carefully wavy hair and the red lipstick she'd finally figured out how to apply properly and all of a sudden it all came together. She snapped a picture and sent it to Coral.

She took a steadying breath and went downstairs. Savannah and Brynn had left for the venue hours ago, while Tucker was being put to bed by his back-up babysitter, Maya, so his regular nanny could have a night off for the occasion. Lane was sprawled on the couch, waiting for Cassidy instead.

"Finally," they said as she appeared. They barely glanced at her outfit, so Cassidy had no reaction to gauge whether she looked hot, terrible, or somewhere in the middle. Lane - of course - looked fucking cool and attractive, because Lane always looked cool and attractive. They were wearing an appealingly lazy version of men's formal wear, well-fitted, no tie, the white shirt partially unbuttoned for the occasional glimpse of muscular chest, like they'd just left a photo shoot for GQ magazine.

"Guess you're my date." Cassidy tried to poke them into looking at her seriously, but Lane just rolled their shoulders back and got to their feet.

"Guess so," they agreed blandly. "Burt's waiting." They headed for the door without a backward glance. Just as it closed behind the two of them, Cassidy's phone buzzed with a text. She pulled it out of her handbag to see that Coral had responded to her anxious selfie with a red kiss emoji and about time. get it girl.

"What?" Lane asked as Cassidy slid into the backseat after them. She wasn't sure how they knew she had a somewhat relieved smile on her face without even looking at her, but apparently they did.

"Nothing," she said. "Have you been to the Ryman before?"

"Yeah." They gazed out into the sunset sky as the car headed up the driveway. "Savannah's played it a stack of times, and Brynn a couple."

"And?" Sometimes Lane just didn't shut up and other times it was blood from a stone.

"And it's everything everyone says it is. It's fucking…church. Only in a good way. You'll see."

Cassidy did see. When Burt wished them a good night and they skipped the queue with their VIP passes, her breath caught. Inside was a literal church, but not like one she'd ever seen before. The vast space held over 2000 people, that much she knew, and all the long beautiful gleaming wooden pews faced down over two levels to the stage, the massive sound equipment hanging from the ceiling. It was already filling up with excited ticket holders.

Lane led them to their seats. They weren't in the front few rows - those were reserved for the true VIPs and Cassidy gasped as she already recognised a few luminaries in their seats - but they were positioned in the fourth row. The stage would be within a few meters of them, closer than she'd be to her sister than if she was on the other side of the kitchen at home.

"You good?" Lane asked her as they found their position halfway down a pew. She'd stopped still, standing and staring at the hallowed stage.

"Oh! Yeah." She sat down with a thump. Everyone she saw looked spectacular. This was the beating heart of Nashville, and an intimate show with one of the biggest stars in the country brought out everyone who was everyone. Cassidy felt small and out of place. It didn't help that sometimes being with Lane was almost like being alone. They were gazing out at the stage thoughtfully, not remotely paying her any attention. She felt awkward in her dress - in her own skin - and uncharacteristically stuck for any words to get her concert-going partner to engage with her.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before the seats were filled, the lights dimmed, and a speaker from the Grand Ole Opry welcomed them, introduced the guest artist and the crowd gave the kind of roar that could raise the roof. The curtains opened, the drum beat started and out walked the band. Coral looked dressed to kill and Cassidy felt almost overwhelmed to see a human she knew striding confidently onto that stage, in front of everyone who mattered. She wished she could channel that kind of energy.

The music began to build and suddenly the crowd screamed in unison, as shimmering in a bright spotlight, Cassidy's sister emerged from the wings. She looked wild, a long sparkling gorgeous gown clinging to her huge pregnant belly, her hair loose and wavy, her lipstick even redder than Cassidy's own. She'd somehow managed to fit herself into staggering heels - despite having been complaining all week about her swollen feet - and her stride was confident. The crowd leapt to their feet, losing their minds at her appearance, and she hadn't even opened her mouth yet.

Within a beat, she reached the microphone. The chords shifted, and she belted out the first notes of Dumb and Rich. The crowd roared, but the sound system overwhelmed them. Savannah's voice filled the space and all of a sudden, Cassidy's hands started to shake. This was what she'd always dreamed of as a child, when her big sister had started to hit the big time. Savannah would come for her, take her out into the world, sit her down in the best seat in the house as she sang on the biggest stages, her little sister glowing with pride and love. That's my sister, she'd tell anyone who'd listen, and they'd gasp and envy her, the kid with the shining star as her sister and best friend.

She felt tears stinging her eyes. Oh god, no, this wasn't the time for some kind of childhood reckoning breakdown. She bit down hard on her lip, her fingers pinching her other hand as hard as she could, trying to focus on that pain, rather than the pain spilling through her. The song ended and Savannah greeted the crowd, her familiar voice warm and incredibly comfortable despite what Cassidy could only imagine to be immense pressure.

To her increasing distress the next song was Looking Back, an aching, beautiful love song that blown up large like this, in a damn church with perfect sound, felt like a broken heart. Her sister's voice was stupidly exquisite and something inside Cassidy - a ferocious brick wall she'd constructed from abandonment, pain and rage - just crumbled. She couldn't stop the sob that escaped, thankfully drowned out by music and the crowd, breathing in silent gasps, forcing her body not to shake under the weight of the emotion, desperate to be invisible.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders where she stood. Lane stayed looking at the stage, as if to give her privacy, but the unexpected kindness only broke her up more. They pulled her right into their body as she wept, her face pressed into their firm chest, both arms around her now, even as they stood looking resolutely ahead. The song finished and as she tried to gather herself, Lane looked down at her tear-stained face and silently pulled a literal cloth handkerchief, neatly ironed and folded, from their jacket pocket and pressed it into her hand. Cassidy spluttered out a giggle through her tears.

"Who even are you?" She held up the handkerchief and looked at them, raising her voice over the crowd's roar.

"It's just for show, usually." Lane shrugged. They watched her as she tried to rescue her mascara. "Here-" They grabbed the handkerchief back and gently, with one hand cupping the back of her head, wiped it carefully just under her left eye. "You'll do." They nodded. "This got snot on it, or what?" They ruined the moment neatly with a glance down at the hanky. Cassidy laughed and refused to take it back, so they gingerly tucked it back into their suit.

Savannah moved into the sweet wistfulness of Make me Wonder and Cassidy struggled valiantly, this time buoyed by Lane's solid presence beside her. As Savannah hit the bridge and her voice soared, Lane elbowed her, practically daring her to cry again and she found herself smiling instead.

The rest of the show was equally life-ruining, but somehow it felt healing in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. It might be late - Cassidy would have thought too late - but here she finally was, the little sister at the Savannah Grace concert, dying of pride. Lane stayed close to her side, just in case she turned into a basket case again.

Then, Brynn joined Savannah on stage for Longing and as the ridiculously - and embarrassingly, if it were your sibling - sexy duet began, Lane shifted noticeably away. It was probably as weird for them as it was for her, seeing the couple they saw squabbling over breakfast each morning, singing to each other like they'd only just met and couldn't look away.

When the encore was over and the house lights rose, Lane turned to her.

"You're a Savannah Grace superfan," they accused. "And if you don't tell your sister how fucking amazing you thought she was tonight, I will literally never speak to you again."

Fidgeting beside them, Cassidy watched the crowd slowly thin, before Lane led the way to the backstage entry. After showing their passes, security let them through and Cassidy nearly died when she saw the small crowd of who's who of country music milling around backstage, laughing, drinking and toasting Savannah.

"Oh fuck," she whispered to Lane when she'd stopped still so suddenly they'd bumped into her back.

"Jesus, Cassidy, be cool." They stepped beside her and tugged her by the arm away from where she stood, staring in frightened awe at a country music legend three feet to her left. Lane literally did not seem to care, moving comfortably through the rarefied crowd with a confident nod to anyone who looked their way. Cassidy followed in their wake. All of a sudden, they were in the innermost circle.

Savannah looked up as they appeared and with a practiced sparkling smile, laid her hand on the arm of the famous man who currently had her ear and excused herself.

"My sister's here," she explained, and the thirteen-year-old that still lived inside Cassidy glowed.

"Cassidy has something to tell you," Lane piped up annoyingly. Cassidy spared two valuable seconds to give them a dirty look. Then she looked at Savannah Grace and for the first time saw both the sparkling superstar and her tired, pregnant sister.

"You were incredible," she said softly. "That was the most amazing show I've ever seen. I'm so proud of you - I can't even believe you pulled it off." She looked down at the belly containing her niece-to-be, then up at her sister's face. Savannah was smiling like Cassidy had literally just given her the moon, a sheen of tears lighting up her eyes. For the first time, Cassidy realized that maybe family approval meant something to Savannah, too. She wasn't sure who moved first, but her sister's arms were around her, the ridiculous bump firmly between them, and they were hugging each other tightly.

"Thanks, Cassie," she said in her ear, a catch in her voice. "That means the world to me."

Cassidy blinked back tears of her own as she pulled back. Lane tried to hand her the handkerchief again and she elbowed them hard in the ribs. Brynn was smiling at them, her hand on Savannah's lower back. Cassidy wondered if she was practically holding her up at this point of the evening, though Savannah's game face didn't show any obvious cracks.

"You know, it's not even 9 p.m. on a Saturday night," Brynn said, looking from Lane to Cassidy and back again. "You two should go out, explore the city."

Cassidy's heart leapt in her throat. Nashville at night? Music, bars, beautiful humans, more music. She wasn't sure if she was terrified or wildly excited. Lane though just shrugged.

"Nah," they said. "I have a stack of schoolwork to do. Plus, this one will turn back into a pumpkin and a couple of rodents come midnight." They cocked their head at Cassidy, whose mouth dropped open in offense. Brynn raised her eyebrows.

"Ooh, did you hear that?" she said to Cassidy, her eyes sparkling with amusement, "Lane literally thinks you look like a fairytale princess this evening."

Cassidy looked harder at Lane. They were rolling their eyes, but there was a faint hint of pink on their cheeks.

"You asshole." She frowned at them, her voice low as Brynn and Savannah were interrupted by another luminary. "You could have told me that before we left the house. This place is such a big deal, and I've been so stressed all night that I look stupid."

Lane looked actually abashed.

"Come on, Cassidy." They finally looked her properly in the eyes. "You can't possibly be worried about that."

"I'm not you, Lane! You're all cool and confident and always look ridiculously good. I'm just a small-town girl still trying to figure out which end of a lipstick is which," she said with equal measures of exasperation and embarrassment. "You literally could have taken three seconds to tell me you thought I looked good."

"You don't look good, you look fucking gorgeous," Lane blurted. Cassidy blinked. Her stomach flipped at the slightly ferocious tone in Lane's voice. "It's annoying, actually," they continued. "With a girl that pretty on my arm, literally no one is going to hit on me tonight. It's a bummer."

"My apologies." Cassidy couldn't stop the smile spreading over her face at Lane's clear discomfort. It felt like it reached all the way to her toes. "It didn't seem to slow Mia down though," she pointed out with a sly smirk.

"Are you kidding me? She's so mad at your existence she's barely even tried to shove my face in her cleavage all week."

Cassidy laughed out loud.

"Poor Lane." She patted their arm. She couldn't quite help feeling smug about that. Something about Mia had just annoyed her from the get-go. Lane seemed like they deserved better, even if she was the kind of hot hipster girl Cassidy imagined them dating. "Do you want me to leave you alone, since you need attention so badly?"

"Uh, I think not." Lane frowned. "I'm not leaving you alone here. You're the little sister of the star and you look like that. Can't you see how many sharks are circling us right now?"

Cassidy rolled her eyes.

"I suspect you're exaggerating," she said, though as she peeked around Lane she did notice at least two different older men trying to catch her eye.

"Oh, believe me, I'm not," they said flatly. "I'm stuck chaperoning you so that Savannah doesn't have to deck anyone while seven months pregnant. Do you want a drink or what?"

They ended up sitting side by side on a large speaker stack, each with a glass of champagne in hand, watching the celebrities with awe (Cassidy) and relative indifference (Lane), occasionally in silence and occasionally needling each other. No one interrupted them, despite Lane's portending of doom. It was like they were in their own little bubble. It wasn't long, though, before Brynn found them.

"So you're really not going to act your age and go out and get sloppy drunk in a bar somewhere?" She sounded disappointed. When they both shook their heads, she sighed. "God, kids these days. You're a disgrace. Alright, come on, Savannah's sneaking out before her feet give way."

She led the way through the crowd and out through a corridor to a back door. Outside, the town car was waiting. Savannah was in the front seat, chatting and laughing with Burt. Twenty feet in front of them, a crowd of excited fans and paparazzi flashing cameras were held back by a barricade and a small line of security guards. Lane, Cassidy and Brynn slid into the back seat to the sound of their shouts.

Sitting in the middle, Cassidy felt acutely aware of Lane's body next to her own. There was something extremely compelling about the tight muscles in the suit beside her. At any rate, she definitely didn't hate that Lane thought she was gorgeous. Somehow it meant more to her than the roaming eyes of powerful men backstage at the Ryman. Lane, for better or for worse, had always seemed to actually see her.