Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Oh, wow!" Owen raced down the long room to the dormer at the far end and flopped onto the bed under the window. "This is exactly how I remember it." He sat up. "Come on, Eli. You have to stay in here with me."

Casey glanced at Haru, who was pointedly not invited. "You're certainly welcome to stay in this room, any of you who'd like to, but we do have private rooms available for each of you. I can show them to you if you like."

Eli looked around, his gaze catching on the beds centered under the other four dormers. "Single beds," he said.

"Well," Casey said diffidently, "it is called the nursery for a reason. Dev and his brother had their own rooms, but they stayed in here when they had friends over or when their cousin visited."

Owen snorted. "So what if the beds are single? It's a great place to jam. It's not like you and I are fucking, and Harry's gonna be in with Nash, anyway."

"Actually," Haru said, "I'd like to see that private room, if you don't mind."

Owen gaped. "But—"

"Sure." Casey forced a smile for Haru's benefit. He hadn't missed the way Nash had abandoned Haru and zeroed in on Dev. Neither had Haru, although apparently it had zoomed right over Owen's head. Eli… Casey couldn't tell, particularly since the guy was now communing with the striped wallpaper on the north wall.

"The rooms are all on this floor, and nobody else is staying here now, so you're welcome to switch up however you like. Once I give you the tour, I'll show you the kitchen and the common areas. The pantry and fridge are stocked with drinks and snacks. If you need anything we don't have, the Market is just down the street." He upped the wattage of his smile. "Breakfast is on your own, but your lunches and dinners will be prepared by Chef Sylvia Grande, so if any of you have any allergies or preferences, just let me know and I'll relay the information to her."

Owen flopped back down on the bed and laced his hands over his belly with a contented sigh. "I'm happy here. You guys go on."

To Casey's surprise, Eli set his guitar case—although I suppose it's a bass case—in the dormer alcove closest to the door, removed his ankle boots, and settled against the bed's headboard with a paperback he'd pulled out of his jacket pocket.

Casey turned to Haru. "I guess it's you and me, then. This way, please."

He led Haru out into the hallway. "Bathroom is right here." He pointed to the staircase. "There's another one up on the third floor to the right of the stairs." He nodded at what was formerly his door. "This…" A couple of butterflies executed a rhumba in his middle, because Dev had moved him out of Harrison House, and into his cottage. Does that mean it's our cottage now? "This is Nash's room."

"Is it?" Haru murmured.

Casey took a breath and exhaled slowly. "Haru, I'm not sure what Nash thinks is going to happen, but I know Dev. He is not going to hook up with Nash because he and I are"—what were they exactly?—"a thing. And I know for a fact that Dev is not okay with cheating."

Haru's smile was wry. "Wish I could say Nash felt the same."

"It won't matter. Not where Dev's concerned. Whatever you and Nash decide is up to you, of course, but whatever Nash decides, please believe that neither Dev nor I will hold it against you."

"How can you be so sure?" Haru's tone was bleak. "I've been living with Dev's ghost since the moment I joined the band." He turned his head sharply, sending his shiny black hair swinging a shampoo-commercial-worthy arc to settle on his shoulders. "Sorry. This isn't your problem."

"Maybe not," Casey said slowly. "But I've discovered lately that problem-solving is something I'm kinda good at. So if you want to talk or grab a coffee? You've got my number. It's in the welcome email I sent you after we signed the contract." He frowned. "Unless that only went to your manager?"

"No." Haru faced Casey again. "Well, yes, it did. But he forwarded it to all of us. Thanks. I might take you up on that."

Casey nodded decisively. "Good." He led the way around the stairwell to the southeast bedroom, which, for some reason, was called Charlotte's Room.

"There are two other bedrooms on this floor. The green room, next to Nash's, and the room in the middle. This one's my favorite, though, because it's got windows on two sides, and one of them overlooks the oak trees in the front yard." He grinned as he threw open the door. "It's like living in a tree house. And the other window faces east, so you get really lovely morning sun." He bit his lip. "Although I suppose musicians are more likely to be night owls than early birds. Would you rather—"

"No. This is wonderful." Haru set his guitar case inside the door and gazed around at the full-sized bed with its white wrought iron headboard, the vintage nightstand—another of Kenny's finds—and matching bureau. "Thank you." He ran a hand over the trailing star quilt in the purples and greens of the lilac bushes. "If you don't mind, I'd like to rest for a bit now."

"Of course. Just let me know when you're ready for that tour."

Casey stepped back onto the balcony and closed the door softly. "Whew." He padded to the stairs and headed down, nearly colliding with a scowling Nash on the landing. "Oh. Hello. Would you like me to show you your room?"

"No, I don't want you to show me a fucking room that I shouldn't be in anyway." He narrowed his eyes. "Whatever you think you know about Dev, whatever you think you're doing with him, you're wrong. By this time tomorrow, you'll be back on the bus to whatever podunk town you came from and he'll be plowing my ass like one of these fucking cornfields."

Casey blinked. "Uh…"

"What's the matter?" Nash sneered. "Don't tell me you haven't had his dick in you yet. That's the only reason he'd waste any time on you, and now that I'm here, you're irrelevant." He shoved past Casey and marched up the stairs. At the top, he leaned over the banister and jabbed a finger in the direction of the front door. "Go on. Head back to Podunksville now and save yourself some embarrassment."

Out of the corner of his eye, Casey caught the door to Charlotte's Room closing and winced. Haru had probably heard that entire exchange. Rather than get into a pointless conversation with Nash—or any conversation, for that matter—Casey simply turned and walked downstairs.

He was heading for the kitchen when a big brown hand reached out of the dining room archway and grabbed his arm. "Eeep!"

Dev hauled Casey against his chest and kissed him, hard and hot. When he pulled back, his gaze on Casey's face was intense but unreadable. "Come with me."

"O-okay."

Dev laced their fingers together and hauled Casey across the kitchen. They banged out the door, Dev's longer legs eating up the distance across the field so Casey had to trot to keep up. When they reached Dev's cottage, Dev flung the door open and pulled Casey into the center of the living room. He took a huge breath before taking Casey's shoulders in a surprisingly gentle grip.

"Nash Tambling is full of shit."

Casey had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "I'm aware."

"I don't want him. In fact, I'd just as soon never see his stupid face again."

Casey winced. "I'm sorry. If I'd known—"

"No!" Dev grimaced. He stroked Casey's hair. "I don't blame you. You didn't know. If I'd had any notion that Nash would get it into his head that this whole thing was for his benefit, I'd have warned you. But I figured he'd moved on." His expression turned fond, and he trailed a finger along Casey's cheek. "I certainly have."

"Dev—"

"Remember Bradley the non-fiancé?"

Casey snorted. "How could I forget?"

"It's like that."

A laugh caught Casey by surprise, and he gasped through it helplessly while Dev's expression darkened.

"What's so damn funny?"

"Bradley," Casey wheezed. "Nash. They'd make a terrific couple. They're both equally certain that the universe revolves around them and that anyone would be lucky to have them. And since they never listen to what anybody else says, they'd never realize the other wasn't paying proper homage."

"Fuck them," Dev growled.

"No, but if we could arrange for them to fuck each other—"

"Casey." Dev's grip tightened on Casey's shoulders and he gave them a tiny shake. "I don't want to talk about them anymore, but I want you to understand. I don't regret leaving Nash behind, and I don't regret leaving the band."

Casey gazed up at him. "But do you regret leaving music?"

"Honestly?" Uncertainty clouded Dev's gaze, as though he wasn't used to people asking for his opinion.

No, as though he wasn't used to people asking about his pain.

"Yes. Honestly."

"Honestly." He swallowed. "Okay." He pulled Casey against his chest and rested his cheek against Casey's hair. "After the accident, it was like music was… I don't know… invisible. Gone. I didn't even listen to it anymore." He kissed the top of Casey's head. "But then you came. And I…" His chuckle rumbled under Casey's cheek. "I wrote a song about you."

The rhumbaing butterflies staged an encore. "About me? Really?"

"Yeah. First one in eighteen months."

He tilted his head so he could look up at Dev. "I kept hearing snatches of guitar music the week I first got here. Was that it?"

"Yeah."

The butterflies switched to disco. "Can I hear it?"

Dev grimaced again. "I'm not sure you want to."

"Are you kidding?" Casey bounced on his toes. "A song about me? Of course I want to hear it."

Dev rubbed the back of his neck. "You might want to rethink that. I, uh, wasn't exactly being reasonable after Bradley's unexpected appearance in the summer kitchen."

"Oh." His heart settled. A little. Because Dev wrote a song about him. "Is it a screw-you song?"

"More like an unrequited love song with screw-you overtones."

Casey flattened his palms over Dev's pecs. "I'd still like to hear it. If you're willing to play it for me."

Dev took a shaky breath. "It's still pretty rough."

"I don't care. If you've been divorced from music for almost two years, you can't expect to be perfect right out of the gate." Casey crossed to the window, retrieved Dev's guitar from its stand, and held it out. "Please?"

Dev hesitated briefly, but then took the guitar with a shaky breath. "Okay. If you're sure."

"Absolutely." Casey settled onto the sofa, his hands between his knees, while Dev sat in the Kennedy rocker, a twin to the one in Harrison House's living room.

After fiddling with the pegs for a couple of minutes until he was apparently satisfied that the guitar was in tune—or else was simply done stalling—Dev glanced up at Casey once, then lowered his gaze to his fingers on the strings.

There you stood,

Smiling, haloed in the light.

And, no excuses, I knew better,

But surrendered to the sight.

You said nothing, and why would you,

When I never asked the price?

I'd been stranded since forever

With my heart encased in ice.

Wait for it...

The smile that hides a bite.

Wait for it...

The shadow in plain sight.

Wait for it...

The wrong disguised as right.

The warning signs of your designs

All poised to escalate.

I should have

Asked when I first met your kiss.

But living my best fantasy

Was a chance I couldn"t miss.

I ignored the burning questions

'Cause I didn"t want to see,

But I took that invitation

Never dreaming you weren"t free.

Wait for it...

The tarnish on the shine.

Wait for it...

The step across the line.

Wait for it...

The cracks you can't refine.

Don't even try to justify

I won't negotiate.

At Dev's voice, Dev's words, Dev's music, Casey's heart floated up, up, up to lodge under his collarbone, and heat flowed down, down, down to pool in his belly.

I'm in love with him. I don't care if we've only known each other for a couple of months, he's it for me. The one.

After the last note died away, Dev set the guitar back in its stand and looked up. "That's it."

Casey blinked away the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks. "You need to write another verse," he croaked.

Then he pounced.