Chapter Seven

Everything was going wrong. Confronting Savannah was supposed to make her feel vindicated, finally proven to be in the right. Instead, Cassidy just felt overwhelming shame when she woke up the next morning, her eyes puffy from crying.

Seeing Savannah crumple before her hadn't made her feel good. Instead, she just felt terribly sad, though her anger still didn't dissipate. The shame came in waves: Lane's cutting words, showing Savannah what was left of her bruising, her own tears, admitting that she'd been hurt. Disclosing that her own father hit her had never gotten Cassidy anywhere good. Mostly, it just made her feel humiliated and weak.

The only thread holding her together was Savannah swearing that she'd keep her safe. Despite everything, hearing the words she'd been longing to hear from her older sister since she was a child made Cassidy want to believe her. Savannah had escaped Randy too, after all; she didn't make the promise lightly.

For a while, after she awoke that morning, she figured she would spend the day lying low. Perhaps even lying in bed. She wasn't hungry and she couldn't stomach the sight of anyone who'd witnessed any of last night's humiliations. But somehow, determination propelled her out of bed, into her clothes and out the door in time to meet Brynn at the front of the house, just as Burt rolled up.

"Morning, kid," Brynn said in her usual warm tone, as if it were no surprise that Cassidy would hit the studio with her again that day.

It wasn't until she was back perched next to a silent Greta in the sound room that Cassidy felt like she could finally let go of the rigid tension in her shoulders and just be.

The morning went by just like the previous one. Another desperately moving song, another incredible vocal performance, another mind-bending repetition in search of whatever unknown quantity spelled perfection to Greta's critical ear. This time Cassidy didn't fight it. She just let the music roll over her and through her like a caress that made her shame slowly wash away.

Brynn took her to another diner for lunch, and Cassidy was dreading the heart-to-heart she knew was coming. But to her surprise, Brynn led her over to a booth that was already occupied and gestured for Cassidy to join them. Across the table sat two of the most fascinating people she had ever seen.

One was a ridiculously good looking Asian man with artful stubble and his long hair in a low bun, and the other was a stunning Black woman who looked like a model, wearing unbelievably stylish clothing like she'd walked right out of the pages of a fashion magazine.

"Noah, Coral, this is Cassidy." Brynn notably didn't describe her as Savannah's sister. Either she'd decided this was obvious enough from their alleged similarity or Cassidy had already been spoken about.

"Nice to meet you, little sis." Noah grinned and shook her hand. Normally she'd take offense at this, but he was so handsome she was too taken aback to remember to do so.

"Don't call her that." Coral swatted his arm with her long, elegant fingers. "Cassidy's her own damn human." The woman smiled at her in a way that made her feel seen for the first time since Lane had looked her in the eye and guessed immediately why she was there. Cassidy found herself smiling back.

"Nice to meet y'all," she said softly.

"Coral is Savannah's drummer, as well as her best friend," Brynn explained. "She's married to this knucklehead for reasons unknown," she looked fondly at Noah, "who also happens to be a slightly good musician. The two of them have kindly offered to appear on a couple of tracks on the album."

"You're Noah Lyman," Cassidy realized.

"Guilty," he agreed with a goofy salute.

"I love your music." She felt her face flame. She still played his first album, Dead Star Ballads, almost every time she felt sad. It had gotten a lot of play recently.

"I appreciate that," he said, his eyes genuine. "Are you a musician too?"

"I want to be," she said, her voice slightly vehement. An odd feeling grew inside her. She'd told Savannah she'd wanted fame and fortune. But here, after two days of absorbing Brynn's gorgeous voice, in front of Noah Lyman himself, Cassidy wanted something different. She, too, wanted to be the real deal. She wanted to be able to craft something that could make you cry or heal your pain. She wanted to be part of something that mattered. Her breath grew slightly short. Across the table, Coral cocked her head, looking at her.

"Uh oh, I know that look," she said. "This one's got a fire in her belly."

"You noticed that too, huh?" Brynn was also regarding her seriously. "Well, kid, what's your next step?"

Cassidy took a deep breath. She thought of the collective connections of the three musicians in front of her. She thought of Savannah, who, now guilt-ridden, might be persuaded to use her massive sway to boost her little sister after all. She thought of Brynn's warning about riding on a famous family member's coattails.

"I want to learn," she said instead. "Please."

That evening, Cassie came home like she was walking on air. Watching the magic of an incredible set of musicians work together to create something wild and beautiful made her feel like her blood was on fire. The track had already been written, practiced and polished long before today, but still, there in the studio, there was a sense of watching something grow into life, like a seedling strengthening and bursting into flower.

She felt an eerie sense of how this song would play through speakers and headphones in so many people's living rooms and bedrooms, on their walk home on a sunny afternoon, during their cab ride to the airport. That people would hear it in the background of their favorite bar or sing along to it on a road trip. Someone would have their first great kiss to this song, while someone else would play it on repeat after their heart got broken. And it all started right here, with Cassidy as silent witness.

Almost as if sensing her energy shift, Greta began to speak to her. Just a comment here and there, every other hour, but for Greta that was like suddenly being best friends.

"Listen to the key change there," she said, "it needs more depth. You want to feel it in your chest like your heart's about to burst."

"Yeah," Cassidy whispered. "I get that."

On the car ride home, Brynn talked to her about the songwriting process, how she sometimes started with an idea or a feeling that felt lyrical - words she needed to get out - when other times it arose from the sound first, tinkering on the piano while thinking about someone or something until the feeling translated into notes.

"How did you start writing in the first place?" Cassidy asked her. Brynn gazed out the window, a small crooked smile appearing.

"I always kinda wrote lyrics. I just didn't realize that's what they were until your sister brought it out of me."

"How did she do that?" As much as she didn't want to talk about her sister, she was curious to hear how Savannah's own process worked.

"She kept humming this song she was in the process of writing, singing little snippets over and over. I don't even think she knew she was doing it. It got in my head and you know…I was already secretly in love with her, so my head was a real mess. One day it all just fell together, the sound she was creating, the feelings I couldn't fight; it all spilled out into the song. That's how Longing started."

"Gross," Cassidy said before she could help it. Brynn burst into laughter.

"I love your sense of romance," she said with a broad grin. "Come on, Cassidy…haven't you ever felt like that? The feeling that everything you could ever want in the world is wrapped inside another person's heart and they're just out of your reach?"

"No," she denied. "That sounds ridiculous. I want more for my life than just love."

Brynn regarded her levelly.

"Good. You should."

"But?"

"But nothing."

"Okay…" Cassidy shrugged.

"Except," Brynn exhaled after a moment, "just don't discount it altogether. Love hits way harder when you're not expecting it. Keep your eye on that sucker, or it'll knock you sideways."

"Wow. That's beautiful," she said drily. "You should totally write a song about that."

"What do you think you were listening to all day?" Brynn gave her a satisfied smirk. "Hopefully it came out a little smoother."

Cassidy thought back through the song in her mind. The key change, the catch in her throat, the feeling like her heart would burst.

"Yeah," she said. "It came out okay."

As the blazing sun slipped behind the hills, Cassidy went for a walk to see Jasper. She'd met all of Savannah's horses by now, but the big chestnut softie was her favorite.

The heat of the day was slowly cut through with a taste of crispness in the air as the shadows lengthened and the evening frogs began to croak in the back paddocks. Cassidy pressed her face into Jasper's warm neck.

"One day soon I'm going to take you for a ride," she promised. She would probably have to sneak him out. Savannah was insistent that until she knew the horses and the tracks, horse riding was strictly on a buddy system. Since Lane seemed to pretty much hate her now, she could either sneak Jasper out or sweet talk the taciturn stable manager into supervising her long enough to appease her sister. What she really wanted was to be left alone, just her and her one friend, out in the hills, in the wild together.

"Goodnight buddy," she whispered, and with one last stroke of his soft nose, she turned and walked back down the track through the fields. The warm air was like a caress on her skin and as the day came to a close, she felt as close to mellow as she'd felt in a long time. It was that sense of calm, almost groundedness that gave her the ability to call Lane's name as she saw them cross the bottom of the lawn toward the guesthouse.

Lane paused on the grass, frowning, clearly undecided whether to wait or ignore her. Cassidy sped up.

"I'm sorry," she said as soon as she arrived in front of them. Lane was wearing navy shorts and a soft loose white v-neck t-shirt that bared their firm biceps, the swoop of their dark curled hair flopping like a beautiful guy in a hipster cologne commercial. The warmth of the sunset glow behind them and the slight glare in their expression only enhanced the effect.

"It's cool," they said, already turning to leave.

"No, wait." Cassidy reached out, her fingers almost brushing Lane's arm, but not quite. Lane looked at her, their expression not quite patient, but not far off it either. "I'm actually sorry. Really sorry. What I said to you was gross."

"Oh, the help comment?" Lane said flatly. "Yeah, that one made a real impression."

"It was a shitty thing to say. But it wasn't meant for you." She tried to explain. "It was a dig at Savannah that put you in the firing line."

"I'm sorry, what?" Lane looked even less impressed.

"Look…I grew up poor as dirt," Cassidy said plainly. "My mom, when she could, worked as a cleaner. As soon as I was old enough to help out, I did too. Savannah did the same thing when she was at home. We were all the help. And not anywhere near the level of a live-in nanny for a rich celebrity."

"Okay…" Lane nodded slowly. "So why use it against someone else?"

"I guess I keep wanting to remind Savannah…who she is, where she came from. Make her see that this rich lady life she leads has blinded her to reality."

"But why?" Lane frowned. "And what reality?"

"Because I want her to finally see it - the reality the rest of us live in!" Cassidy struggled not to lose her cool. "The reality of just trying to survive, the reality where people get hurt-" She bit down on her tongue. She wasn't about to humiliate herself again.

Lane was looking at her closely. Their gold-brown eyes were serious, but the accusatory look had gone away.

"Did someone hurt you, Cassidy?" they asked softly. She scoffed automatically to deny it, folding her arms against her abdomen as if her bruising was obvious through her clothes. "I'm sorry," Lane said, as if Cassidy had actually outright admitted it, "I hate that for you. But listen," their eyes held hers, "you're safe now, okay? Savannah will make sure of it. She's always been good at that."

"You sound pretty certain." Cassidy had heard Lane's veneration of Savannah before.

"Well yeah," they said, "she did it for me." Cassidy stared. Lane gave her a small smile. "Hey," they nodded toward the back patio where the family were slowly gathering around the table, "I've got an idea: let's act like total best friends for dinner. We can fuck with their heads by pretending you're not a sulky brat literally all of the time."

Cassidy glared at them, and Lane laughed. Side by side, they walked up the lawn to family dinner.