Chapter Sixteen

"Lane." Rosalie's voice was warm when she looked up and saw them in the doorway of their office, right in the heart of the center. She got to her feet and gave them a big hug. "God, it's still weird seeing you be an actual adult. Look at you!"

Lane hugged her back. They could never quite look at her without feeling like they were staring at the sun. That first morning, when Lane was just fourteen, they'd crept into the center, hunched and limping, both eyes swollen almost closed. They were terrified. No adult had ever helped them before, but they knew they needed to try. They couldn't take another night like the one they'd just survived.

Rosalie had been in the office that morning too, still a brand new social worker. Her eyes had widened when she'd looked up and seen Lane, but her voice was calm and her hands were gentle. Lane had panicked when she'd tried to convince them to accompany her to the emergency room, so rather than risk them fleeing, she'd called in a favor and brought an ER doctor to them right there in the office instead. Then she'd brought them into the emergency housing out back, into their own room, and said the words Lane had been dying to hear their whole life. You're safe, she'd said gently. No one is going to hurt you again.

Rosalie and Savannah were tight, both then and now. Lane had once asked Savannah how they met.

"She saved my life," she said simply, something soft flaring in her eyes, then changed the subject.

When they'd asked Rosalie for the story, hoping for more detail, Rosalie had just smiled and looked away.

"She saved my life," she told them. "Now, let's go over your schedule for next semester."

Lane privately figured them as ex-lovers, but that might have just been wishful thinking. Rosalie wasn't megastar stunning like Savannah, but she was exactly the kind of woman that people thought of when they used the term girl next door to low-key explain that someone was hot. With her silky auburn hair, sea-green eyes and knockout body, she absolutely could be a bombshell, but instead she dressed down in a studiously casual way that seemed to be intentionally disguising her beauty, preferring to be taken seriously rather than admired. Lane, quite honestly, had no problem doing both.

"How many have we got for tonight?" they asked her now.

"Eight," she said. "Literally everyone who was here for the last class is back, and they brought two friends. I think you're a hit." She smiled at them. Lane grinned back.

One Saturday a month, Lane led an art class at the center. It was nothing special in that Lane was not really any kind of artist. They taught the same things they'd learned there when they were in their teens: how to screen print, or make a stencil, how to cut prints into leather. Once they'd just made some damn friendship bracelets out of thread. The point was never the art. It was always about giving the kids a reason to come in, to spend time with each other, to be around safe adults from their own community, to have someone they could ask for help, if they needed it.

Everyone gathered around the craft table as Lane walked in. As always, Rosalie had left little blank name tags so the kids could write their preferred name, and if they wanted to, their pronouns. Lane wore their own, always happy to be a non-binary role model to someone who might have never found one, or someone for whom it might be life-saving.

One of the new kids caught their eye immediately. They'd written "Jay" on their name tag, but left the pronouns blank. Their eye contact was intermittent, but each time Lane passed by or spoke to them, they looked absolutely electrified. They seemed about fifteen or sixteen years old.

"I totally found this therapeutic when I was bored, recovering from my top surgery," they found a way to mention as they showed the kids how to use the tools to carve out patterns on the small practice strips of leather. When they casually glanced up, Jay was staring, a tiny light flaring in their big brown eyes.

Afterward, Lane asked Rosalie about them.

"Jay," she said slowly. "They're one of the lucky ones, in a way. Their mom sent them to us, hoping they'd find friends and support." Lane felt a wave of relief. Jay wasn't one of the kids who'd end up on the street then. "They're getting bullied at school, though," she said, a trace of concern furrowing her brow. This was Rosalie's bread and butter, but Lane knew she was worrying the same thing they were worrying. Gender diverse kids experiencing rejection and persecution had a terrifying tendency not to make it to adulthood.

"One for me?" they asked, and Rosalie smiled.

"I hoped so."

In recent years Lane had taken on a few of what the center called mentorships. Kids were paired with safe adults who they might relate to, to show them that they had the chance to thrive.

"But first," Rosalie nodded to the other chair in her office, "tell me how you're doing." Lane shot her a look, but she just raised her eyebrows until they sat. Lane wasn't a client anymore, but it was the deal for all mentors in the center that they had a formal check-in. Rosalie took no risks that anyone dealing with vulnerable kids might not be in good shape themselves.

"I'm good." They shrugged. Rosalie, who'd counseled Lane for years, wasn"t put off.

"Any panic attacks?" she asked directly.

"Not a one," Lane said with relief.

"Any triggers?"

"Well…" Lane hedged. Rosalie waited. "There was this one asshole. And his friends. At a bar recently."

"What happened?"

"They took a dislike to me." They rolled their eyes. "I was out with a girl. She kind of saved the day."

"How'd that make you feel?"

"Honestly?" Lane bit back a small smile. "It was fucking hot."

Rosalie looked at them a little closer.

"Tell me about her."

Oh shit. Telling Savannah's literal best friend that they'd been fooling around with her little sister was not on the agenda tonight, or ever?.

"Oh, you know," they shrugged. "Just a pretty girl."

"Are you still seeing her?"

"Nah." They weren't. They really weren't. Really.

"How come?"

"It's too complicated," Lane said. That, at least, was accurate.

"Hm," Rosalie said.

"Don't hm me." Lane narrowed their eyes. Rosalie smiled.

"Hmm," she said.

"Oh, come on," Lane huffed. "I know what you're thinking. That I either pick girls who are too complicated for things to work so I can keep myself emotionally safe, or I bail at the first sign of trouble so I don't get hurt."

"Is that what's happening?"

"No," Lane denied. "It's honestly just really complicated." Rosalie waited. Lane frowned at the floor for a while. Finally, they looked up. "How do you tell the difference between just like… lust, and actually liking someone?"

Rosalie looked thoughtful.

"That's a hard one. What do you like about her?"

"I mean… she's hot," Lane started. "Like, really gorgeous."

"I figured that." Rosalie's tone was dry. "What else?"

"We have this insane, wild chemistry. She's a great kisser." Rosalie just nodded. Lane got to the real problem. "She's smart. She can be funny… almost sweet. She takes none of my bullshit."

"Uh huh."

"What does that mean?" Lane panicked.

"It means uh huh," Rosalie told them, leaning back in her chair. "Aside from the ‘complications,'" she air quoted, "do you have any other reservations?"

"A thousand!" Lane shook their head. "She's from deep MAGA territory. Some of the shit that comes out of her mouth…"

"Right," Rosalie looked even more interested. "How does she treat you?" Lane blinked.

"I mean, she was a dick about my gender at first, but she apologized. I think it was more ignorance than prejudice. We moved on from it."

"And aside from your gender?"

Lane thought for a moment.

"I think she likes me?" they said wonderingly. "She can be so prickly around people, like a real pain in the ass, but with me she's been… almost soft? Like… considerate and stuff."

"You want to know what I think?" Rosalie asked. Lane nodded, then watched her closely. Rosalie rarely gave advice, but when she did, it was usually solid. "Political differences, general prickliness, how someone talks about their mom, how they treat the restaurant server… all of that can absolutely be red flags sometimes. But what counts - what actually counts - is how they treat you. Someone could be a Nobel prize-winning humanitarian and yet treat you like dirt. It's what happens between the two of you that matters."

Lane thought about that for a moment. They thought of Cassidy apologising for her fuck ups and holding Mia at bay for them. Then, there she was being vulnerable at the Ryman, or smoothly getting Lane out of danger and refusing to let them feel bad about it. And now, last night, even when drunk she was respecting their physical boundaries and dealing maturely with their stupid tantrum about her very reasonably moving on.

"Ugh," they said after a while. "It's annoying when you're so smart about everything."

Rosalie snorted.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm a disaster in my own life." Lane laughed. "As for the lust or love thing-"

"Lust or like-" Lane jumped in quickly. "Jesus, have some chill, Ros."

"Lust or like." She rolled her eyes. "Lust is mainly a physical thing. You can experience it without wanting to know someone on a deeper level. The other L-word," she gave a small smile, "that's more emotional and mental. There's a growing connection. Caring about them. Vulnerability."

Lane thought of their panic when Cassidy disappeared out on a ride alone. They thought of the night before when she fell asleep on Lane on the sofa. They'd sat there so long propping her up that their shoulders cramped, before they carefully extricated themself, lay her head on a pillow and covered her gently with a blanket.

They thought of how they'd sat there, confused, watching her sleep for far too long, before leaving a glass of water and a couple of tylenol on the coffee table next to her. They thought of the soft kiss they'd dropped on her hair before they went off to tell Brynn and Savannah that Cassidy was fine, sleeping it off on their sofa. They thought of the slight hollowness in their chest when they woke up to find her gone.

"Shit," they said.

Rosalie smiled.

"Pity it's just too complicated, then."

"Ugh. Is this session over?"

"Sure." She stretched in her chair. "How's Cassidy settling in anyway?"

Lane froze.

"I'm sorry?"

"Cassidy. I had lunch with Savannah a couple of weeks ago. She told me her little sister was staying."

"Oh. Yeah. You know. Fine, I think," Lane managed, their voice tight.

"Oh, that's great news," Rosalie said. "Savannah said it was challenging. What with how she came from deep MAGA territory and all." Lane went extremely still as Rosalie's green eyes danced. "I haven't met her, but since she's Savannah's sister, I bet she's beyond gorgeous. Sucks to be you, huh?"

Lane stared at her, their face flaming.

"Rosalie…" Their voice came out hoarse.

She smiled, then mimed zipping her lips.

"Confidentiality, remember? No one is going to hear it from me."

"Fuuuuuck…" Lane dropped their head back, staring at the ceiling.

"Look on the bright side," Rosalie said. "At least this time I actually believe you that it's complicated."

The following day was a Sunday, and their day off. Lane spent the morning doing laundry and studying, went for a run, then did an hour in the second floor gym. They showered the sweat from their pleasantly aching muscles and after they'd eaten lunch, they found themselves sitting on the couch frowning out the window, trying to make up their mind.

Finally, they went back indoors to the main house. They found Cassidy, eventually, hiding out in the music room, a book in her hand.

"What are you reading?" they asked, by way of greeting. She looked up, her blue eyes distant and dreamy.

"Brandi Carlile's memoir," she told them. "She's a crazy genius."

"Nice person, too," Lane said. "Always super kind to everyone."

Cassidy stared at them.

"You've met her."

"Of course." Being around Savannah meant they'd met everyone. Cassidy pretended to faint.

"How are you so calm about it?" she demanded. "Do you literally not care about meeting famous people? Are you just too cool for all of that?"

"Totally," Lane agreed. "Except when I met Dolly. I may have peed a little bit."

Cassidy burst into laughter. Then her eyes went wide.

"You really met her?" she whispered. Lane nodded.

"She loves kids. She came to say hi to Tucker backstage at the CMAs. He wasn't quite three, so he gave not one single shit. I held onto him as bait and just tried my hardest not to cry."

Cassidy laughed again.

"I wouldn't have picked you as a Dolly fan."

"I'm from Tennessee, aren't I?" Lane leaned against the door frame.

"You grew up here?"

"Nashville born and bred," they agreed.

"City kid." Cassidy looked thoughtful. "Explains why you're so bad with horses."

"I'm not bad with horses." Lane frowned. "I just happened to be slightly stressed the one time you saw me trying to catch one."

Cassidy searched their face, before smiling a little.

"I guess you were."

"Do you want to go for a ride with me?" They came to the real point. Cassidy's eyes lit up.

"Now?" She dropped the book on her lap.

"Sure." They shrugged.

"Let me get dressed!" She was wearing some kind of cute denim pinafore thing over a very tiny tight t-shirt and Lane valiantly tried not to watch her bare legs as she left.

It wasn't necessarily better, watching her mount a horse in a well-fitted pair of jeans and the same damn distracting t-shirt, but Lane at least climbed astride Misty without any major mishap and they headed side-by-side up the Northern track, the one that skirted the top paddocks and off into the trees. Lane liked horses well enough. They'd learned on ponies as a kid, then picked it up again living here. But Cassidy was more of a natural. She barely seemed to nudge Jasper and he moved wherever she wanted, never dropping his head to eat grass the way Misty kept doing.

"What are you studying?" Cassidy asked them as they practically had to prise Misty's jaws from the grass. Lane looked sideways at her. She'd been mostly pretty quiet so far, saving her full attention for her BFF the horse, only breaking it to tease Lane for their minor missteps in saddling up Misty.

"Teaching," they told her. "Early childhood. It's my last semester, actually."

"Oh. So you're going to work as a teacher soon? A kindergarten teacher?" she asked, her eyes getting bright.

"I mean, no." Lane fumbled for words, Cassidy having somehow hit immediately on the biggest dilemma in their life. "Savannah's about to have another baby. I'm not going to just quit on them now."

"I mean, I'm not saying you're not a great nanny," Cassidy frowned, "but it seems like Savannah could afford twelve nannies if you wanted to try something new."

Lane almost snapped at her, but they took in a long, deep breath instead. She had no way of understanding.

"It's more than that." Their voice came out steadier than they felt. "I've been with Tucker for three years. Brynn is like, my best friend, you know? And Savannah… she's been this kind of…guide in my life, for like, a decade and a half…"

"I see." Cassidy's voice had gone a little tight. Lane knew this was a weird sore spot between them.

"She's your actual blood sister." They tried to make her understand. "You'll be family forever, no matter what. For me though, I could lose them-" Their voice caught, and they tugged at Misty, nudging her ribs and making her walk on. Cassidy kept pace easily.

"You think if you didn't work for them, they'd ditch you? Some sense of family you've got." Her voice was light again, and they knew she was trying to make them see they were worrying unnecessarily, but for Lane, it was their biggest trigger. It took a full minute of remembering how to breathe - deeply into the base of their lungs the way Rosalie had taught them - before they responded.

"Cassidy," they said, "my real family did ditch me. I haven't seen or heard from them since I was thirteen."

"Shit." Cassidy looked at them, but Lane couldn't look at her face. "I'm sorry, Lane." Her voice was soft. They walked on for a while through the dappled light under the trees. When Lane didn't elaborate, given the space, she spoke again. "Savannah will never ditch you," she told them evenly. "I would stake my life on that. She's loyal and no matter what, she looks after the people she loves."

Lane looked at her then, pointedly. She caught the look and sighed.

"I know, I know. Sometimes she's misguided in how she does it," she told them, "Sometimes it makes things worse, actually." Lane blinked. That made about zero sense. "But listen, whether you're their nanny or just their…Lane, if Savannah has said you're family, you're family. Forever. And you know they'll all want you to live your best life."

"Thanks," Lane said, not entirely convinced but also kind of soothed. "I appreciate that. You know," they said, "it still weirds me out a little when you're all like, sweet and caring."

"Then you can go fuck yourself," Cassidy said easily, making them laugh. Lane watched her for a little. There was a light in her eyes. Cassidy, it seemed, liked spending time with them. Lane wasn't sure what that meant. "You know," Cassidy continued after a while, "if it makes you feel any better, I know for sure that given the choice between me - her actual sister - and you, Savannah would pick you in a heartbeat."

"Probably," they agreed with a shrug, and Cassidy rolled her eyes.

"I mean, I get it," she said. "You're a lot more lovable than I am." Her voice was wry.

"I don't know," Lane said without thinking. "I think you would be pretty easy to-" they swallowed. "To-"

"To what, Lane?" Cassidy's eyes were dancing with mischief and far too much enjoyment. At that moment they came out from the trees and onto open ground, the sunlight gleaming down and making Cassidy literally glow.

"Shut up," Lane grumbled, wincing with discomfort. Cassidy burst into laughter and with barely a nudge moved Jasper into a canter, then a gallop, racing away freely across the open field. Lane, somewhat less seamlessly, encouraged Misty to do the same, and they thundered across the grass in the light. Lane watched Cassidy, her body moving easily, her hair flying behind her. Something that almost felt like joy lit up inside them as they raced together under the blue sky.

After their run, they slowed the horses, Lane pointing the way to the stream for them to drink.

"What about you?" they asked. "What are you going to do with your life?"

Cassidy looked pensive.

"I want to be a musician," she said. Her eyes flicked up to Lane. "A country singer, actually."

"That's why you're hanging out with Brynn in the studio?" they asked. "For the experience?"

"Yeah," she said. "She's a brilliant teacher. And Greta and Coral and Noah as well."

"I'm sure," Lane agreed. "God," they sighed, in sudden realization. "You're going to set the world on fire, aren't you?"

"Because I'm Savannah Grace's little sister?" she asked, flatly.

"Oh." Lane was surprised. "I meant because you're stupidly hot, you've got great teachers, and I bet you're fucking good."

"…Because I'm her sister?" she said again, looking at them warily.

"Is that kind of thing even genetic?" they asked. "Like, blonde hair, blue eyes and a habit of winning Grammys?" She blinked. "I don't know… you just have this thing about you, like you're naturally great at stuff. Like… you were never into fashion then bam, you look amazing all the time. You're a really great kisser. You ride a horse like you were born on the back of one. If you say you're going to be a country singer, it just seems about right you'd be amazing at that, too."

Cassidy looked down at her hands on the reins and took a long, deep breath. When she looked up, her eyes were clear.

"Lane, if this is you trying to see if we can be friends, you're doing a terrible job of it," she said softly. "I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss someone so badly in all my life." Lane almost stopped breathing.

"Great, well now you know how I feel all the time," they admitted. She smirked. They turned the horses around and headed back across the wide golden meadow. "What are you working on?" they asked after a while.

"How do you mean?"

"Like, are you writing?"

Cassidy sighed.

"I'm a little stuck," she said. "Watching Brynn and everyone work is beyond intimidating. Then, at home…there's Savannah Grace, you know? It's this huge house, but it feels like she's everywhere, just casually being a sensation. I can't hide away and play guitar anywhere there, and I feel way too self-conscious to sing."

Lane frowned.

"I'm out a lot," they said after a while. "A lot of the time I'm at work, with Tucker. Then there's class. The guesthouse is pretty big. You can go hang out there to write, or sing, or play or whatever. I won't be there, so it'll be totally private."

Cassidy gazed at them for a long moment, her eyes softer than they'd ever seen them.

"Seriously?" she asked. Lane shrugged and nodded. "Thank you," she said, her voice low and sweet. Lane watched her face so long they nearly got swiped off the horse by a tree branch that Misty helpfully wandered under. Cassidy laughed so hard she dropped the reins and made Jasper jump as they ducked and cursed.

Back at the stable, they unsaddled the horses in companionable silence and set them free. Side-by-side, they walked back down through the fields, talking easily, like they were friends. They arrived on the back lawn, at the spot where Lane should go one way and Cassidy the other.

"I had a good time." Cassidy stopped and looked at them. And just like that, it felt like the end of a date. A good date. Damnit. Lane imagined cupping her face, kissing her lips, sliding their fingers into her soft hair.

"Me too," they said. They looked at each other a beat too long. Lane didn't want to let her go, and they still weren't sure what that meant. It felt like a crossroads of sorts. On one hand, they could kiss her, make damn clear what this was starting to feel like. On the other hand, they could smile at her and walk away, committed to the friend path that was also, it seemed, possible. Taking instead what was the most non-committal, perfectly confusing option, they leaned in and softly kissed her cheek. They heard her breath catch.

"See you at dinner?" they said and she nodded silently, her eyes never leaving their face. Filled with conflict, Lane walked away.