Chapter Eighteen

Cassidy awoke the next morning stiff, sore and sick. She felt far more hungover than she had the morning she'd woken up on Lane's sofa, despite not having drunk anything at all. She felt wrung out, her very bones aching.

For a while, she tried desperately to fall back asleep. Unconsciousness was definitely preferable to thinking or feeling. But as she lay in bed, all she saw behind her racing eyes were a parade of faces: Savannah's shocked and tear filled, Randy's blotchy with rage, Brynn's soft and concerned, and Lane's…

Cassidy flung back the covers and stumbled out of bed. She showered, trying to budge the cold from her body, but it seemed to be coming from deep inside of her, chilling her from her core to her toes.

As she shivered under the steam, she thought how ironic it was that Lane was the one who was always so worried about losing everyone, and yet it was Cassidy who'd found she had no one. She'd fled the only home she'd ever known, only to have Savannah try to kick her out and Lane shun her.

It was such a sharp about-face from Lane's hot body pressed up against her, their eyes looking at her like she was the only other person on the planet, that just by thinking about it Cassidy found herself bent double, her arms around her abdomen for protection, the same way she'd found herself on the kitchen floor the morning she'd left home.

It was a long time before she could force herself to straighten, to turn off the water and put on clothes, to walk to the window seat and curl up there, looking out toward the fields and the mountains beyond, trying to pin down the feeling that was threatening to crush her.

Heartbreak.The word sprang into her mind, fully formed, and she tried to scoff. She hadn't been looking to catch actual feelings. Lane had been right: in the beginning she'd just wanted the pleasure they could offer, the pleasure she'd never yet gotten to experience in her years so far on the planet. But somewhere along the way, things had gotten hazy. It wasn't just Lane's hot mouth and skilled fingers she craved, but their strong arms and the feel of their heartbeat. It wasn't just sex she wanted from them, but their tenderness, the way they'd held her crying in the Ryman, the brush of their fingers fixing her mascara, the soft stroke of their hands through her hair.

Cassidy didn't remember anyone ever being tender with her, at least not since she was a small child. Lane had snuck in through her barriers, even if they themselves seemed unsure they wanted to be in there with her. And if Lane had ever really lowered their own barriers for her at all, they were slammed back tight in place now, with Cassidy firmly on the other side.

The worst part was that, for god's sake, Cassidy had always been alone. Ever since Randy had first raised his fist and her mother hadn't stopped him; ever since her brothers left home and Savannah never came back for her. She'd gone through every day, alone, and on some level, okay with that. It was just what her life looked like. And yet now, with only a couple of months of feeling like maybe she had a family after all - and maybe even someone else who cared about her - to lose them made her feel excruciatingly alone for the first time in her life.

Cassidy kicked herself. How stupid she'd been!

She skipped breakfast. And then she skipped lunch. Annabelle knocked shortly afterwards, explaining through the door she was leaving a tray for her. Cassidy didn't want it. By mid-afternoon, she'd made up her mind. She found her old duffle bag and crammed what she could inside it. None of the pretty dresses, none of the wonderful ridiculous shoes. She put everything plain and simple and practical in there that she could. She left behind the book she'd been reading. She thought longingly of all the guitars upstairs in the music room she'd left untouched. Then she crept downstairs.

She found Savannah eventually, in the study that she kept. Cassidy had never really thought of her sister as a businesswoman, just an artist, so it had surprised her that Savannah seemed to have so much other work to do. She watched from the doorway for a minute as her sister frowned at her laptop, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on the keys. She was so damn poised, so expensively beautiful, Cassidy had no hope of ever competing. Then she looked up, her eyes finding her sister standing there, and all of a sudden she looked extremely human again, something like vulnerability appearing in her gaze.

"Hey," Savannah said softly. She got up from her desk chair with effort and came over to one of the easy chairs, sitting again with a sigh. She inclined her head to the other chair, like her younger sister would just do her bidding. Cassidy stayed standing.

"I decided I'd take you up on it," she said, as calmly as she could. "The apartment in Nashville. I'll get out of your hair."

Her sister regarded her evenly.

"No," she said shortly.

Cassidy blinked.

"I'm sorry?"

"I'm not letting you have the apartment," Savannah told her. "I've changed my mind."

"Why not?" Cassidy demanded.

"Because I want you to stay here." Savannah's voice was firm. "I want you to stay right the fuck here." Her eyes flashed a hint of steel, and Cassidy swallowed. "I want you to deal with being my damn sister. I want you to figure out how to be a sister-in-law to my wife, and an aunt to Tucker and the baby. I want you to have to repair your friendship with Lane. I don't want you to go anywhere until we have fixed things between us, Cassidy. I'm not going to lose you now."

Cassidy was speechless.

"Why does it all get to be your choice?" She felt a hint of her anger returning. It almost felt welcome.

"Because of my raging god complex," Savannah said sharply. "And because I'm the big sister and you need someone to look after you for a change."

Cassidy raised her chin, offended, but a strange warmth flared in her chest.

"I'm not a child," she refuted anyway.

"No." Savannah looked at her. "You're not. But everyone needs someone to take care of them. Whether you like it or not, that's going to be me. You're my baby sister, Cassidy," she said, in a softer tone, "and I know I've let you down. I don't understand exactly all the pain and damage I've caused you, and I hope one day I will. But I don't need to understand it to know you still need me now. So, no, you don't get an apartment. You get me."

"I could just leave anyway," she muttered, half in and half out the door, completely lost as to how to proceed. Savannah watched her.

"You could," she agreed. "You could go back home to an abusive situation, or you could take your chances out there in the world on your own. Or you could woman the fuck up and deal with a difficult situation right here instead of running away like a scared little squirrel."

Cassidy glared at her. Then a surprised laugh spluttered out of her.

"Squirrel?" she asked, incredulously.

Savannah's steely glare cracked too.

"Someone used to call me that once," she admitted with a half smile. "Then Brynn accused me of it, too. Of being a secret wild animal, just trapped inside this human skin." Cassidy looked at her perfectly put together, intensely feminine, well-dressed sister and a slightly unhinged giggle escaped her. Savannah smirked, too. "I think it's something we perhaps might share," she said drily.

Cassidy shook her head, but her sister just smiled, like she knew better.

"Go unpack your bag," she said. "And if you don't join us for dinner and actually eat something, I swear to god I will cook you one of mom's casseroles myself."

Cassidy blanched.

"Please don't."

"I wouldn't threaten something that dire if I didn't mean it." They looked at each other for a beat. It felt weird to Cassidy that they shared such intimate knowledge that no one else in the world possessed, and yet they barely knew one another at the same time. "Do we have a deal?" her sister pressed.

"Yes, I'll eat dinner?" she asked.

"You know that's not what I'm asking."

Cassidy stared down at the ground, at the duffle bag at her feet. She thought of everything Savannah was asking of her and knew it was too much. The idea of facing even just Lane alone felt too horrible to contemplate. Then she thought of what she was being offered. Eventually, she raised her chin and looked at the woman who'd been her biggest idol and her worst enemy. Could she literally just see her as her sister? She wasn't sure.

"I'll try," she said softly.

Cassidy went to dinner early. She couldn't fathom the idea of walking in while everyone looked up at her together and saw Cassidy the Monster, the one who'd screamed at her pregnant sister. She couldn't even begin to imagine trying to make the choice whether to sit next to Lane or opposite them.

Also, she was starving.

Brynn arrived first, Tucker clinging to her back and giggling.

"Hey," she said, depositing the child in his seat, before tucking back her long dark hair. Her tone was even and her face calm.

"Hey," Cassidy replied. Then she was stuck. Did you apologize to someone for upsetting their spouse? Was that a thing that was expected, or would that be weird? Was she sorry? To Brynn? Oh god, did Brynn think she'd put the baby at risk? Was that a thing?

"Hey!" Tucker was simpler.

"Hey!" With a struggle she managed a smile. "What did you do with your day?"

Tucker led with some kind of long meandering story that involved swimming, dinosaurs and monkeys in the horse paddock. Cassidy tried her hardest to follow, not so much out of genuine interest or even politeness, but because it was so much easier than trying to understand how to talk to Brynn.

A knot formed in her belly. The guest house door was opening, and Lane appeared. It felt like it took an hour and yet all too quickly they reached the back patio and stepped up towards them. Cassidy didn't know what to do with her hands or her face. There was the smallest hint of surprise in their eyes to see her there. Had Lane expected her to run away? Had they wanted her to? The thought hurt more than she'd expected.

"Hey," she said, her voice barely more than a breath.

"Hey," they said back, their voice low. It was all they said, but it still seemed like a relief. Lane was still talking to her. They took the seat opposite. Cassidy spent a good minute over-analysing that situation. Were they trying to be as far away from her as possible? Did they want to look at her? They were wearing a baby blue cotton t-shirt that looked immensely soft. Cassidy wanted to press her face into their chest more than she'd wanted anything in her whole life.

"Hey." Savannah arrived.

"Hey," everyone chirped in unison. Savannah paused where she stood, right next to Cassidy's seat. She looked around, picking up the weirdness in the air. Cassidy felt guilty. It was her fault, after all. Her sister looked at her, probably regretting her existence, let alone the fact she'd convinced her into staying. Then she smiled, leaned down and swiftly kissed Cassidy on the top of her head, before taking her own seat.

Cassidy felt her eyes suddenly fill with tears. She blinked them back hard, trying even harder not to draw attention to the couple that escaped. When she finally dared to look up, Lane was looking not at her, but at Savannah, a trace of wonder in their expression.

"How was everyone's day?" her sister asked lightly. And just like that, Cassidy was back in the fold.

A week went by, and then two. Everything got simultaneously easier and harder.

Brynn was back in the studio, and she still let Cassidy tag along. Cassidy made a point of being as agreeable as damn possible. She asked Brynn questions about her life, about her music, about her family. She learned all of Brynn's past lives, like how she had nearly been a doctor, then a burned out alcoholic, an all round Hollywood dog's body, then a Malibu lifeguard, all by the age of thirty. Brynn told her the straight-up bananas story of how she'd met and fallen for Savannah, and Cassidy had gasped, laughing, and realizing she absolutely saw why her sister had married the woman.

Tucker was both easier and harder, because he was a sweet, funny delight, but also, he was Lane's number one sidekick, and Cassidy absolutely did not know how to approach that situation. Instead, she joined in on family movie nights with Tucker and his moms, the four of them claiming their spots on the various couches, Tucker sometimes snuggled around his mama, and sometimes nestled up against his young aunt.

One afternoon, she accosted him as soon as he came in the door from his day with Lane, whipping him into the kitchen to bake cookies. As the two of them giggled and made a mess together, Lane themself walked in to see them both splattered with flour and streaks of chocolate. They hesitated, staring, and Cassidy felt her cheeks go red. It was the most sustained attention she'd had from Lane in weeks. But Lane quickly recovered, simply ruffling Tucker's hair to distract him, then pinching a handful of cookie dough from under his fingers and walking straight back out the way they came in.

So yeah, Tucker time was great, and also complicated.

Cassidy didn't know how to approach Savannah. She still wasn't sure she could. The emotions ran so damn deep, the fault lines so shaky. She hoped her sister could see her efforts with her family and know she was doing her best. She could feel Savannah's watchful eyes - on how she spoke, on what she ate, where she was in the house or the city. They were civil to each other, even kind, ?but the barrier was still there. Cassidy wasn't entirely sure she could ever fully unpack it.

And as for Lane, Cassidy had decided - perhaps out of cowardice, she wasn't entirely sure - that she would give them space. All the space. She was still intensely hurt every time she thought of Lane's instant unquestioning allegiance to Savannah over her, the ease with which they had dismissed her from their life. She practiced speeches over and over where she beat down Lane's door and told them her side, made them see. But she wouldn't lower herself to trying. For them to have had any chance together, Lane had to want to see her side, and they very clearly didn't.

It had been a savage lesson to learn, but Cassidy was learning it. Lane had always been on the fence about her, and to desire someone wasn't necessarily to like them. She had, it turned out, been just a piece of ass to Lane after all. Lane had warned her, explained explicitly that they weren't sure they liked her. What had felt like a growing connection had been so easily severed that it couldn't possibly have mattered to Lane. Not the way it mattered to her.

Little memories tormented her, though. The time Lane nearly rode off into the mountains to search for her; the intense sweetness in their face as they'd gazed down at her in the grass trying and failing to end it; their belief in her as a musician before she'd even sung them a note; their fierceness over the whole bartender situation. It had felt, sometimes, like Lane had cared a whole lot. And if - if - they had, Cassidy had crushed that little spark with her out-of-control temper.

There'd been rage in her household her whole life. Even before Randy had ever expressed it physically towards her, she'd grown up seeing her brothers get hit, witnessing her mother cowering as Randy shouted in her face and punched the wall beside her head. In turn, her mother shouted at her, her brothers shouted at each other. Cassidy hadn't realized it was inside her, too, until her last day at home when she'd exploded with it.

Lane had made it clear that at least as far as they were concerned, her outbursts at Savannah were inappropriate, including when her nephew had witnessed it. She'd been pissed off and yet deeply ashamed. She wasn't at all like Randy. Was she? She sure as hell didn't want to be, but she didn't know where to start and there was not one person she could talk to about it.