Page 19 of Fractured Rhythm

Chapter 5

Jamie:Who is king of the vegetables? Elvis Parsley.

Cassie:That’s awful.

Jamie:You love my jokes! Miss you, Cas.

Cassie:Miss you, too.

CASSIE

I wandered aroundCentral Park Sunday morning. I lived in the northern end of Hell’s Kitchen and loved that I was so close to the park. The sun was blazing this morning, and I’d needed to get out of my apartment. Normally, I would be at brunch with Holly, but after my confession on Friday night and our subsequent sleepover through yesterday afternoon, we’d grabbed brunch yesterday.

The flowers were a riot of colors, and it made me think about an article I’d read in The Savvy Traveler about a tulip festival in Europe. I needed to get out of the city and take a vacation. I had weeks saved up, since I rarely took a day off from work, but I could never decide where to go, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to travel alone. Syncing up an extended schedule with Holly was pretty much impossible because the woman liked to plan at the last minute.

Just the idea made me itch.

But there was no better time to get out of the city than now. If the sticky, humid New York summers didn’t drive me away, Bash’s presence in town ranked super high on my list. But this was my city, goddammit, not his. I refused to let him drive me away. Maybe after our last run-in, he’d get the hint and leave me alone.

Too bad I didn’t really want that. I had to stop fooling myself.

Ugh. I was pathetic. Why couldn’t I move on? With Griff? With anyone? Griff wasn’t bad. He was what I should want: nice, attractive, dependable, and not someone who would bail when things got rough.

To be fair, I had no clue about that last one, but I did know someone else who would.

And, once again, my mind refused to go anywhere but to Bash. I wanted to hear him out. I wanted an explanation for everything. I had so many questions for him. But I didn’t want to cave when he gave me his explanations. I was stronger than that. I wouldn’t fall for him again. I wouldn’t survive that a second time.

I needed carbs and coffee to get me out of my funk, so I walked along the edge of the park, making my way through the early morning crowds, to one of my favorite cafés. I was reminded again of why I should escape the city: summer tourists. They were one of many reasons to take a well-earned vacation. I’d have to ask Holly if she was up for a getaway. Maybe something all-inclusive where I could swim up to a bar for an umbrella drink.

I hit shuffle on my streaming playlist and turned my wandering walk into a jog to burn a few calories before what was soon to be a moment of indulgence. I knew a place with the perfect raspberry bars less than a mile away.

The music filled my head as I jogged. My playlist was a combination of rock and metal, with a few pop songs thrown in. Jamie would’ve been horrified with the pop music, but they were catchy as hell and I couldn’t resist. He used to say my taste in music was horrible, but as long as I didn’t start listening to country music, he wouldn’t disown me.

I stopped jogging and took in a deep breath. God, I missed him. He had a special smile that I swore was just for me; it always came out when I did something that drove him crazy. He always told the worst jokes. Like dad jokes to the extreme. And his laugh. No one laughed like my big brother. It filled the room and was infectious. I wished we could have spent more time together. But toward the end, I was busy with school and then work and he was touring the world. He was living his dream. He didn’t know it would end up becoming my nightmare.

Jesus. Seeing Bash again had really done a number on me. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I was afraid. Afraid I’d forgive him. Afraid I’d forgive him too quickly.

I skipped to the next song.

Of freaking course. “Fight For It” started up—one of Steelwolf’s biggest hits. I remember Bash writing it when we were in high school. Even before we started dating, I would sneak into his room at night, wanting to be anywhere but in my fucked-up home—and if I looked back on it now, I just wanted an excuse to be with him. Watching him puzzle out the notes on his guitar, biting the side of his lip when he got frustrated on a particular section of the song, was sexy as hell.

He always made sure I was home before anyone in my house woke up. Of course, that was a pretty easy task, since my mother was always passed out from whatever high she’d been on the night before, Jamie could sleep through anything, and my father would be snoring loud enough to cover any noise I was capable of making. I missed those days so much it hurt. Not dealing with my drugged-up mother—hell, I was happy when she finally bailed when I was fourteen—but the ease of being with Bash and hanging out with Jamie and his bandmates.

The song on my playlist switched to something upbeat, and I turned my focus back to my destination. I needed carbs to cure my sadness. Luckily, the café was in sight.

When I reached the front door, I paused my music and walked in. The smells were amazing and my mouth watered. I ordered a flat white and two raspberry bars—I’d worked up an appetite with my half-assed jogging.

I took a bite of the pastry and took a sip of my perfectly brewed coffee. I loved this little café. It reminded me of my one and only trip to Paris. The band had played a concert in the city and I’d tagged along. I hadn’t been able to go to many of their tour stops because of school, but I’d been on spring break of my senior year when they were in Paris. I was newly eighteen, and it’d been an early graduation present from my brother. They’d had two days in the city, and the day after the concert, I’d slipped out of the hotel early and gone exploring, stopping into a café around the corner from where we were staying.

Bash had snuck out of the hotel shortly after and met me there. He’d been in full disguise, a low ball cap pulled over a blond wig and obnoxiously large sunglasses covering his eyes. No one had recognized him, and we’d been in our own little world, sampling pastries and sipping pale café au laits. When Jax crashed our breakfast, we had to rush back to the hotel before anyone spotted the crazy singer.

The memory reminded me I still hadn’t emailed Jax. I’d kept in touch with him and Tristan after Jamie died. Tristan usually emailed me at least every other month, but Jax emailed me weekly. Sometimes he updated me about where he was or how he was celebrating my brother in some small way. Sometimes he sent random memes or funny stories that always made me smile at his outrageousness.

But a few days ago, he emailed me to say he was coming to town with Tristan. The label was giving them shit about not putting out anything new since Jamie passed—which pissed me right the fuck off—and they were in town to work with Bash on new material.

It would be the first Steelwolf music without Jamie Steel.

Part of me was happy that they hadn’t released anything without Jamie, but I knew it was only a matter of time. The guys were amazing, and Jamie never would’ve wanted them to stop. I just couldn’t imagine how they would sound without my brother banging on the drums in the background.

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