Graceless - Page 62

There were gifts from people that actually knew her, people that actually cared what she would want. Brynn gave her a state-of-the-art record player and a pair of high-tech headphones. Coral gave her a designer tote bag. Lane gave her a little leather notebook with her name tooled onto the side; it was the twin of the collection upstairs in the music room that housed Savannah’s songwriting journeys. They’d flicked their eyes towards her, looking almost shy, and Cassidy had gulped, nearly swallowing her tongue instead of saying thank you. And Savannah gave her a guitar. It was a beautiful acoustic, more expensive than probably anything she’d ever touched before, with a pickup to plug into a speaker for live performing.

“For when you’re ready,” her sister said, meeting her eyes. Cassidy managed not to burst into tears, but only just.

There was an elaborate cake, with an exact twenty-four candles to blow out. She looked around at her still fragile sister, at her strong, loving sister-in-law, at Coral smiling encouragingly, and at Lane, their eye contact steady for once. She had no idea what to wish for.

The following day, Cassidy went for a horse ride alone. She had snuck rides often enough that it no longer felt like bending the rules. She knew the trails, she knew the horse, and she also knew there was no one around with the mental space or inclination to worry about her anymore. She and Jasper climbed into the forest, meandered through the trees, forded a small stream and cantered across the open spaces. All the way, she talked to him.

It helped, almost as much as her sessions with Dani, the counselor Rosalie had referred her to, though Jasper didn’t talk back to her nearly as much, or make her confront the lifelong patterns and assumptions she’d always held as inevitable.

To Jasper, she could also talk freely about Lane, without caring that she definitely sounded like a crazy person.

“It’s stupid, I know,” she told the horse. “It’s been months since we stopped, I don’t know…. seeing each other, but it’s still hard being around them. I still over-analyse every single thing they do. Like…how dare they give me a birthday gift that fucking…sweet? Are they trying to be friends now? After everything?”

What she couldn’t admit, even to Jasper, was the way her stupid heart had leapt in her chest at just the briefest instant of somewhat ambiguous eye contact from Lane. Their golden brown eyes had barely even flickered and she had felt a terrible, impossible hope flare inside her, lying awake that night trying not to think about them, but unable to think of anything else.

She turned Jasper for home with a sigh. She thought again of the evening Lane hadn’t moved away, letting Cassidy practically cuddle them on the couch in her sleep. She thought of them finally taking her side against her sister’s. And she thought of that look in their eyes, what she could swear she’d seen in them – warmth, softness, heat – of Rosalie telling her she thought Lane was worth the pursuit.

She returned Jasper to his paddock and wandered back up the field track, lost in her thoughts. She imagined trying. She thought of how vulnerable she would have to be, to straight up tell Lane, I still think of you all the time.

She found her eyes darting toward the guesthouse as she passed by. She wavered. Could she do it?

She heard the slam of a car door from where she stood, and suddenly Mia came into view, her soft green hair bouncing on her shoulders. Cassidy blinked, hoping to see Aria follow her. She didn’t. Mia approached the guest house and knocked on the door. Lane opened it and Cassidy saw the moment that Mia leaned in and kissed them hello right on the mouth, before she walked inside and the door closed behind them both.

Cassidy sat in her window seat, her head on her knees, gazing almost unseeingly outside. Was it spying? It wasn’t. She was just hanging out in her own bedroom, that was all, which just happened to include the guesthouse door in her line of view. There was nothing to see. The door didn’t open again. Eventually, as darkness grew, a light flicked on somewhere inside. Hours passed.

She felt too sad and empty to even cry. The feeling was almost sickness as she imagined what might be happening in there right now. Lane’s mouth on Mia’s. Her hands on their body. A bed that held them both. Cassidy buried her face in her arms. She felt desperate, trapped in her own skin, no idea how to deal with the feelings crashing over her.

Then, almost as if the idea came from outside of her, she reached down and picked up the little leather songbook Lane had given her, cracking open the pages for the first time. The moment she touched pen to paper, the words just flowed.

Chapter Twenty-Three

This was definitely the right thing to do, Lane decided, as Mia kissed them. Her mouth was hot and hungry and Lane remembered what it was like to make out with someone sexy without having to see them at breakfast every morning. Without knowing what they looked like when they were pissed off or sleepy, or what kind of movie made them cry. Without worrying about whether they succeeded in their dreams or if they ever really saw you back.

Hooking up with Mia was easy. Lane knew they’d both get their itches scratched, so to speak, then go back to their lives unchanged and unscathed, no different than they’d been before they’d slept together. Which was what they both wanted, when it came down to it. This was their comfort zone, after all, casual and no strings attached. Really, they should hurry this up and get into it.

They kissed Mia harder and she moaned, loudly. Performatively? Lane wasn’t sure, but her tongue was in their mouth so they were pretty sure she was into this. Unbidden, as if she were in the room, Lane heard Cassidy’s ragged gasp, the tiny sounds of heat that escaped her as Lane melted into her body and they jerked back from the kiss.

“Don’t stop now,” Mia panted, and they stared at her. Her dark eyes sparkled and her full lips parted. Mia. Lane kissed her again, trying to lose themselves in the heat of her mouth. Some floodgate opened in their mind, bright and vivid. Cassidy, still a stranger, weeping in their arms over her sister on the stage; Cassidy in a dark alleyway in Nashville, eyes sparkling with adventure; Cassidy on horseback, laughing at Lane for almost announcing they could, one day, maybe love her.

Lane pulled back so fast they almost leaped off the couch. Mia looked startled.

“What’s up?” she asked. Lane tried not to panic. Cassidy was not in this room. Cassidy was living her life, not tied down by Lane’s conflict and confusion. Cassidy hadn’t kissed them in months or even looked at them in any way that made Lane think she thought twice about them or what they’d been together, what they could have been.

“Nothing,” they managed. “Do you think we could maybe take this a little slower?” Was that the right thing to say? Did that make it sound like they wanted to pursue a relationship with Mia? By the startled look on their classmate’s face they wondered if she was worrying the same thing. She frowned, but shrugged.

“Sure,” she said. “Want to watch a show or something?” Lane got up and switched on a lamp, chasing the memories back into the shadows. They flicked on the TV and the two of them hung out, Lane’s eyes on the screen, but their thoughts thoroughly elsewhere.

It was a weird week. Savannah was slowly back in the world – Lane had even heard her humming in the kitchen as she cuddled Emmeline close – and the entire household was breathing a sigh of relief. Cassidy, though, seemed somewhat withdrawn, avoiding their eye contact, leaving every room they were in, so obviously that Lane almost confronted her about it. In the end, they didn’t, reminding themself it was none of their business. Cassidy was none of their business.

Mia texted. Actually, Mia texted a lot. Some of it words, some of it selfies, the kind that were a tease for what they both assumed would be the real event that weekend. After a few days of Cassidy ignoring them and Lane lecturing themself about not getting hung up on the past, they’d asked Mia if she wanted to hang out at their place again. She did. This time, Lane was adamant they’d get past whatever was tripping them up. It was just sex, for crying out loud.

That Saturday was bright and warm. Mia arrived and for a moment Lane considered taking her directly to bed, like sex was a bandaid you could rip off. They found themself hesitating yet again; even they had to acknowledge that maybe wasn’t the right headspace to be in.

“Want to grab a swim?” they asked instead and Mia ducked into the bedroom to change, coming back out in her bikini, her flirtatious eyes daring Lane to look away. “I’m just gonna make us some drinks. And…some snacks,” they added, still feeling like they wanted some space. Mia flicked her eyes down over them.

“Don’t take too long.” She smiled, and wandered outside to the pool.

Lane pulled out a bottle of vodka and began cutting up some limes on the kitchen bench.