Page 1 of Fractured Rhythm

Chapter 1

Jamie:Thanks for pudding up with me. How’s culinary school going?

Cassie:God, you’re lame. And good.

Jamie:Miss you, Cas.

Cassie:Miss you, too.

CASSIE

I knew thatvoice.

Fucking hell.I’d know it anywhere. It wrapped around me like a hug I desperately needed but shouldn’t want, coursing through my body and twisting every nerve along the way.

I stayed in the dim shadows of the bar, my eyes drifting to the small, battered stage, where he sat. He was propped on a barstool, a beat-up guitar strapped to a body I knew almost as well as my own. He looked different, but I’d recognize him anywhere—recognize his voice anywhere. His shaggy brown hair was gone, hair I’d lovingly pushed out of his eyes every chance I got. My fingers itched as memories of how soft it was tickling over my hands invaded my mind.

In its place was short, inky black. Only the sides were visible under the low bar lights and the baseball cap he wore.

Sebastian.

Why? What? How was he here? I hadn’t seen him in over a year—almost two—not since we said goodbye to Jamie. Not that Bash had acknowledged me that day. When I’d needed him the most, he’d been too locked in his grief to see me, to comfort me. I would’ve given anything for a hug that day, to be wrapped in his strong arms and pressed against a chest I’d snuggled up to countless times over the years.

Now I just wanted to escape.

“Whoa. He’s hot. I don’t think I’ve seen him here before,” Holly said at my side, and I jumped, forgetting that I wasn’t alone in a room with the one man who could simultaneously destroy me and put me back together again.

For fuck’s sake. Why wasn’t I over him? It’d been years since we’d been anything but awkward friends, but his voice brought it all back. I needed to get out of here.

“Who?” I asked as nonchalantly as possible before taking a sip of the fruity cocktail Holly had grabbed from the bar. I willed myself not to dart for the door. I could be cool and not raise any red flags for my over-observant friend.

Holly’s eyes narrowed and she let out a snort. “Oh, please, you were staring at him like you wanted to gobble him up. Not that I blame you. I bet he’s delicious.”

He was. Every inch of him. I bit back a shudder at the memory. Dammit. I never learned to school my emotions.

After everything that had happened, I shouldn’t have still wanted him. But he was The One. I was lying to myself to say otherwise. I tried to focus on how angry and hurt I was back then, and not on how good he looked on stage as his raspy voice sang about love.

Bash had always said he’d be there for me.

Until he wasn’t.

That was the only memory I should have held on to. The others were too painful and only led to heartache.

“Right. Musicians are the absolute worst. Believe me. After watching my brother and his bandmates over the years, I’ve learned to stay far away from anyone in that business. Especially the ones that end up on the big stage.”

I hated how bitter I sounded. The truth was, he’d done that to me well before we’d ever said goodbye to my brother.

“You never talk about them,” Holly said, sipping her beer.

“Who?”

“Don’t play that with me. Your brother and the band. I can’t imagine what sort of stuff you saw them get into. I’ve heard stories about them…” Holly trailed off. “Sorry. Tell me to shut up. I get why you don’t talk about them.”

I gave her a sad smile. Holly hadn’t been around when my life was the band—was Bash. We met a few years ago through mutual friends shortly after we’d both graduated—her from Columbia, and me from the International Culinary Center in Manhattan. I never told Holly about dating Bash. It wasn’t common knowledge, and I didn’t want to talk about how it’d blown up in my face.

Talking about the band led to thinking about my brother and how he should still be here. It reminded me how much I missed him. I missed hanging out with the guys, too, and I missed hanging out with Bash. I wished I’d paid more attention to what my brother was doing back then.

Jamie had always been smiling when I saw him. And sending me funny messages almost daily. I should’ve seen through that. Met up with the guys on tour more than just a handful of times. If I’d been in LA, instead of across the country trying to forget Bash, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.

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