3. Three

Three

Cass

I’m backstage at the Jacksonville Memorial Arena, waiting to go onstage. The walls muffle the roar of the crowd, but even that distant thunder can’t reach me. People are out there chanting my name, their excitement building with every second I delay. It should feel exhilarating like adrenaline shooting straight through my veins. But—it doesn’t. There’s nothing: no rush, not even a spark.

My manager strides over, grinning from ear to ear. He’s riding high on the crowd’s energy. “Cass, this place is packed to the rafters. We’ve got VIPs, press, local big shots, the whole nine yards. They’re out there for you, man. This night’s going to be one for the books.”

Nodding, I give him a half-hearted smile. “Yeah. Another one.”

Ignoring the flatness of my voice, he glances at me eagerly. “Hey, I can arrange for some of the local VIPs to meet you backstage after the show. There’s a group of superfans who’d kill for the chance to meet Cass Wild in the flesh. They’re stoked and want to meet you.”

But the thought of having anyone backstage, for any reason, leaves me cold.

“No groupies tonight, Derrick,” I say, my voice firm. “No VIPs. No afterparty. Just me, the show, and an empty room when it’s done. Got it?”

His grin fades, his eyes narrowing. “Come on, man. These people live for this. We’re only here for one night. They’d do anything to meet you in person.”

I meet Derrick’s gaze, unflinching. “I’m not in the mood, Derrick. Make sure no one’s waiting for me after the show.”

He sighs, exasperated, but he knows when I’m serious. “Fine. But, Cass, you need to get over this, whatever this is.”

“Got it,” I say, shrugging. “But tonight, It’s only about the music.”

Derrick shakes his head, muttering something under his breath as he walks away. I don’t even feel guilty for throwing his schedule off, and I’m not going to change my mind. Once the show is over, I just want to be alone.

A stagehand appears, giving me the signal. It’s time. A cold, steady calm washes over me as I take one last deep breath and step into the blinding light. The roar of the crowd hits me like a wall. I square my shoulders, plaster on the same smile I’ve worn for years, and make my way to the stage and the waiting fans.

The roar of the audience reverberates through the arena, the last notes of the encore fade away, and the crowd chants for more as I step off the stage. Their voices thunder behind me, but all I feel is that strange emptiness pressing down on me. The thrill of the encore used to be my lifeblood. Now, it feels hollow and empty—a reminder of a passion that’s slowly burned itself out.

My manager catches me the second I’m offstage, a satisfied smile plastered across his face. “Cass! That was unbelievable! You’ve got them eating out of your hand. You sure you don’t want—“

“No, Derrick. Not tonight,” I say sternly. “Make sure no one’s back there,”

He sighs, shaking his head before nodding. “Alright, fine. But don’t get too used to this, Cass. You’ve got a role to play, and people have high expectations.”

He heads off, and I turn toward my dressing room, hoping for a few minutes of peace. I push the door open, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks.

Two young girls are standing by the far wall, wide-eyed and looking out of place. Pre-teens, if I had to guess. The shorter brunette looks star-struck. The taller one, a blonde, is watching me with a look of pure awe.

“Hey,” I chide them, making sure to leave the door wide open. “Who let you two in here?”

The blonde girl steps forward, looking slightly nervous but defiant. “I’m Cassidy. And this is my best friend, Holly.” Her voice wavers, but she squares her shoulders, refusing to back down.

Cassidy. The name fits her somehow. Her face, framed by a halo of pale blonde hair, stirs something within me that feels achingly familiar. It’s not just the boldness in her gray eyes—it’s an echo of a memory I can’t quite grasp. A strange feeling pulls at me as if I should know her, but I brush it aside.

“Cassidy,” I say slowly, “How were you able to get by security?”

Cassidy’s gaze drops, her defiance melting away as she fidgets with her hands. “They were distracted by some older girls.” She glances up at me. “Sorry, but I just had to meet you.”

I can’t help the small grin tugging at my mouth. She’s still reminding me of someone, though I can’t quite place it.

Clearing my throat, I try to keep things light. “You know, you’re a little young to be sneaking around backstage.”

Cassidy rolls her eyes, an expression so unimpressed it’s almost funny. “I’m not here to moon over you. You’re, like, way too old for me.“ She tilts her head as if that much should be obvious. “I’m here because I wanted to talk about music. You’re like the best, or well, at least one of the best, and I thought maybe you’d want to hear something I wrote.”

A mix of relief and amusement spreads through me. I’m not sure what I expected, but her single-mindedness feels refreshing. “You wrote a song?” I ask, genuinely surprised. Her enthusiasm catches me off guard, and for a moment, it’s like looking at a younger version of myself.

She nods, her face lighting up, her nerves replaced by eagerness. “Yeah! It’s something I’ve been working on for a while. My mom’s taught me some stuff, but I’m also taking music classes at school.”

I raise an eyebrow, interested. “Your mom teaches you music?”

She nods a little too quickly, revealing her nerves. “Yeah, she loves to sing. She’s really good, at least I think so, but she never sings in front of people. Anyway, I thought maybe you’d like this one. It’s not much, but…”

Before I can say anything, she hums and then starts singing a few lines, her voice soft but clear, echoing in the small dressing room. The melody is simple, but there’s something raw and genuine about it, something that pulls at me. I don’t know how to explain it, but in those few notes, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.

“It’s got potential,” I say, my tone softer than I expected as her song lingers in my mind. “For a beginner, you’ve got a good ear for melody.”

Cassidy smiles in delight, that same spark of confidence returning. “Yeah? Thanks! I listen to your music all the time, and—well, I thought this might be a good song for you.”

The innocence and excitement in her expression hit a chord deep inside me. Here’s this kid, barely out of grade school, already writing songs and dreaming big. She reminds me so much of how I was at her age—eager, full of passion, and willing to break any rule to be heard. And for a moment, I feel connected to her, like maybe this isn’t just a random encounter.

The girl suddenly gives me a wide smile, stepping closer. Close enough that I catch a glimpse of clear gray eyes—and my heart skips a beat, my breath catching in my throat.

“Cassidy, what is your mother’s name?” I ask in a strangled voice.

The girl’s head tilts up like a deer sensing danger. “Why? Are you going to call security to have my mom come get me?” She asks warily, losing some of her confidence.

“That depends. Answer the question,” I practically hold my breath while I wait for her reply.

Cassidy pauses, studying me carefully, before finally speaking. “Cushman. My mom’s name is Kacey Cushman.”

I blink. The breath I’m holding leaves me in a rush. For some reason, I thought—but no. That name means nothing to me. Kacey Cushman. Whoever she is, she’s not anyone I remember. But the odd feeling doesn’t fade, leaving a strange, unexplainable disappointment. I shake it off, leaning against the wall and trying to piece together why this moment feels so strange.

Sam appears at the door. “Whoa. Who do we have here?” His eyes rake over the two young girls with surprise. Then he turns to me. “Aren’t they a little young to be in your dressing room?” I hear the amusement in his tone. Sam never seems to take anything too seriously.

Sam’s gaze flickers between Cassidy and me, his brow furrowing. “Who…” he mutters, trailing off as if the pieces of a puzzle are falling into place. His expression mirrors the unease brewing inside me.

Sam’s gaze drifts back to Cassidy, taking in her pale hair and gray eyes, and his expression shifts, a hint of something like shock crossing his face.

“Cass…” he murmurs, glancing at me. “She looks like… someone we knew, doesn’t she?”

I shrug, hoping he drops it, but he seems as rattled as I feel. Cassidy looks between us, her confusion evident.

Before I can say anything, a security guard steps into the room, his face a mix of irritation and apology. “Mr. Wild, someone reported seeing a couple of girls—“

His words come to an abrupt stop as he spots them. “These two snuck backstage. I can escort them out now, sir.”

Cassidy’s expression falters, her bravado fading as she realizes she might be in trouble. I feel an unexpected surge of protectiveness, something I can’t explain, and hold up a hand to stop him.

“Wait,” I say, glancing down at her. “I’ll walk them out. Just give us a few minutes.”

The guard hesitates, glancing at Sam, who nods in approval. “We’ll take care of it,” Sam says, his voice calm but his eyes still on Cassidy, watching her carefully.

I turn back to Cassidy, crouching to meet her eyes, trying to shake off the strange feeling of familiarity that has a hold of me. “So… your mom’s name is Kacey, huh?”

Cassidy nods, her face softening a little. “Yeah. Why? Do you know her?”

The disappointment resurfaces an empty feeling that settles in my chest, one that I don’t fully understand.

“No, I… I don’t think so.”

There’s a moment of silence before Sam rests a hand on my shoulder, his voice low. “Cass, maybe we should take them both home. Make sure this one gets back to her mom safely. There’s something about all this…”

I nod, unsure of what I’m feeling but trusting Sam’s instincts. “Alright,” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “Let’s get you home, Cassidy.”

Derrick just shrugs when we ask him to have a limo brought around. Neither Sam nor I feel the need to explain our request.

After a quick, tense ride, we drop off Cassidy’s friend, Holly, and watch her disappear safely inside. Next, the limo pulls up to a much smaller house nestled in a quieter, shabbier neighborhood. Cassidy gives me a worried look, her earlier confidence nowhere to be seen.

Cassidy suddenly confesses, “My mom doesn’t know I went to the concert. She disapproved. And we didn’t have the money… so, I, um, snuck out the window.”

Sam and I exchange a glance, but I try to keep my expression neutral.

“I see,” I tell her, not knowing what else to say.

Looking at Cassidy’s young face, I feel something twist inside me. Part of me wants to reassure her, to protect her, but the feeling is so new that I don’t understand it. So, I remain silent but place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

We walk Cassidy up the path to the front door, and just as I raise my hand to knock, Cassidy speaks up. “Maybe I should go in by myself,” she whispers, looking up at me with a flash of uncertainty. “My mom doesn’t like you very much.”

Before I can answer, the front door swings open; the woman who stands in the doorway is tall and slender, with brown hair pulled back in a loose bun and an oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder. She’s about to say something, but the words die on her lips as her gaze locks onto mine in shocked disbelief.

I take in the curve of her face and clear gray eyes. The familiarity hits me like a punch to the gut. My mind races, piecing together memories I thought I’d buried. It’s her.

My pulse races, and I feel like the ground is shifting beneath me. Everything I thought I knew about my life—about my past and future—shifts in an instant.

I whisper her name, barely believing it. “Kendrick?”