Page 74 of Fractured Rhythm

“Yes, Wolfie, hush,” Jax’s voice came from behind me, and Jane broke our hug.

“Great, you’re all here. Come on in,” she said, her arm still linked around my waist as we walked into the house.

It smelled like I remembered it: vanilla, nutmeg, and lemon. Jane steered me toward the kitchen.

“I thought since you’re a culinary master, you could help me with dinner. I’m making some of the band’s favorites, and yours, of course,” she said.

“Culinary master? I wouldn’t go that far. You taught me more than culinary school did,” I said, taking stock of what was already simmering on the stove.

“I find that hard to believe,” she said.

“I’m smelling your amazing mac and cheese, right?” Jax said when he walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge, opening it like he belonged in this house. Which he did. We all did. The Clarks always made everyone who walked into their home feel like family. They were a Friday night sitcom family that was actually real.

“Is that my Cassie girl?” Bash’s father, Russell, asked when he walked into the kitchen, and I walked right into his arms.

The Clarks were excellent huggers. Something they’d passed down to their son.

“Hi, Russ.” My voice was muffled against his chest.

“It’s been too long, and we’re so happy to have you here again. Don’t stay away that long again, okay?”

“I promise.” I felt like a total asshole for disappearing on them after everything with Bash. That they welcomed me like no time had passed, made my chest tighten and I struggled to breathe.

“Okay, now take the trash compactor at the fridge out of my kitchen so Cassie and I can work, or we’ll never have dinner ready before the show,” Jane said, her voice laced with humor, and my heart eased.

“Everyone’s always calling me names,” Jax grumbled around a bite of something he’d pilfered from the fridge.

“Come on. I want to meet this new drummer,” Russell said, guiding Jax from the room.

“Want me to hang out here?” Bash asked.

His mother and I laughed. “He’s still burning water, right?” she asked.

“Yep. He managed to slice his hand the other night trying to help me,” I said.

“Fine. I get it,” he grumbled before he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and stalked out.

“Rock stars are so moody,” Jane said, grinning as Bash left the kitchen.

“So tell me everything. We’ve missed you around here. And before you say anything, I know something happened with you and Sebastian, and you don’t have to explain it to me. I’m just happy that you’re here and with him?”

The last part was a clear question.

I smiled at the woman who’d meant so much to me as a child. “Yeah. It’s something and I’m happy. I’m so sorry that I didn’t stay in contact when I went away to school.”

Jane walked over and put her hand on my arm in comfort. “I told you. No explanation needed. We are proud of you. I’m addicted to all those videos. How did that happen? You finished culinary school and now you’re making videos at Scrumptious.”

“Yeah. And I love it,” I started.

“Then that’s all that matters. Now, you work on the broccolini and fill me in,” she said, handing me a pair of kitchen tongs before going back to stirring a fragrant sauce that would go over her pan-fried chicken. I was already salivating for dinner, but I filled her in as we moved around the kitchen seamlessly.

It was like I’d never left and that thought clutched my heart. I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed this—needed her—until she’d wrapped her arms around me when we’d arrived.

An hour later,I pulled homemade drop biscuits out of the oven; the smell of cheddar and chives made my stomach growl.

“Did you forget to eat again?” Bash said from behind me.

I gasped. “Jesus. You almost made me drop these,” I said, placing the cookie sheet on the granite island.

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