Page 88 of Fractured Rhythm

Chapter 20

Jamie:How do Italians say goodbye? Pasta la vista, baby!

Cassie:You’re so lame.

Jamie:I’m hysterical. And we just arrived in Rome. Join us?

Cassie:I’ll be in Florence in three days, Mr. Impatient.

Jamie:Miss you, Cas.

Cassie:Miss you, too.

CASSIE

“What are wedoing in here?” I asked as he shut his bedroom door behind me. We’d just finished lunch with everyone, and Jax, Tristan, and Charlie had headed back to the hotel. They’d discussed going out to a bar tonight, but I wanted to stay in our hotel room. Just me and Bash. Tomorrow would be crazy, getting ready for the next show—a much bigger show—and then I’d be on a plane back to the city the following morning.

I wanted to stay with them, with Bash, but maybe I could finagle more time off when they went on their next tour. Judging by the buzz last night’s show and Josh’s marketing blast had drummed up, Steelwolf would head out on a longer tour as soon as Josh could arrange it. Hell, he’d probably already started the ball rolling.

“I wanted to show you something,” he said, pulling me against his body.

I melted for a second against his heat before I took in a steadying breath and remembered where I was.

“Your mother is down the hall. I’m not doing that right now,” I said, waving my hand toward the bed.

“That wasn’t my plan. I swear,” he said. “I found something when I was in here earlier. I don’t want to upset you, but I thought you’d like to look through it.”

“Why would it upset me?” I asked, warily.

“I… Ah… I found a box of stuff in the back of my closet. I was looking for an old Doors shirt and found it.”

“Found what?”

“It’s a box of Jamie’s stuff.” He paused, rubbing his thumb over my hand.

“Why is it here?” I asked, my voice soft.

“It must’ve been with him on tour. Everything was chaotic at the end, with what happened.” He swallowed audibly. “The crew packed up a lot of our stuff, and I think they mislabeled the box or something and it ended up here. I honestly don’t know. Maybe I brought it home with me. Those days were such a fog.”

I bit back the tears welling up, thinking about the days after his death. They were hazy to me, too. I wasn’t sure I wanted to look at anything he’d left behind. I’d gone through a few boxes at my dad’s the last time I was there and grabbed a handful of items to keep, but I still hadn’t put anything out in my apartment. It hurt too much.

“What’s in it?” I asked.

He dropped my hand and walked into his closet, grabbing the box. “Drumsticks, a few shirts, random stuff,” he said, putting the box on his bed.

I stared at it, not moving. Bash looked at me, pain in his eyes.

“Do you want to look through it? I get it if you don’t.”

I popped the top off the box, and the faint smell knocked me back. It smelled like him. Well, not really. Just faint traces of something that seemed familiar. This is what was left of him: a box of junk that had sat in a closet for two years.

But I couldn’t stop myself from riffling through it, like it would somehow bring me peace or make me feel like he wasn’t gone, when that’s the opposite of what this box was. I pulled out a few pairs of drumsticks, one with the end nibbled on. Some people liked pen caps; my brother had always preferred drumsticks.

I laughed softly.

“What?” Bash asked.

“Thinking about how he’d cracked a tooth on one of these when you guys were getting ready to meet with the label the first time. He swore a blue streak, claiming he had a splinter in his mouth. I warned him that chewing on his sticks would only lead to trouble—well, a toothache at least.”

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