Page 28 of Second to None

“Yeah. It was a little easier when I did it, though. I wasn’t quite so famous anymore.”

“Famous sounds hard.” Emily’s tone was confident in that way kids had sometimes when they’d made up their minds about something, brushing aside any nuance and complexity. “Like, you can’t really do what you want. And you have to wear a hat when you go to Disneyland.”

Out of the mouths of babes, huh?

“You’re one clever girl,” I told her. And wow, this conversation hit kind of close, didn’t it? “Say, love, I could use a bit of advice. You up for that?”

She sat up, clearly flattered, her expression serious beyond her years. “Sure!”

“Okay, so I’ve got this friend, right? And he likes boys too, only he’s scared because he’s a lot more famous than I was when I told people.” All right, how did I put this into words that a smart seven-year-old would understand? “He asked if I could help him, maybe. Like, hold his hand when he starts letting people know. So he’s not alone, you know?”

“Like how Elsa had Anna?” Emily asked, and, uh. Notexactlygiven those two were sisters while Cass and I were… not. Jace and Mason and Ellis—yeah, they were my brothers for life. But not Cass.

“A little bit like that,” I said. “Only people might think we’re together. Because I’m holding his hand and all. There might be pictures and stuff.”

”Because he’s famous?”

“Yeah.” I tapped her nose, smiling even though something in me felt on edge, like standing on a high cliff with the wind in my face and the ocean glistening below. Jump or scuttle away? “So, what do you think—should I help him? Even if it gets people talking and maybe it’s not totally true?”

She frowned, her hair a golden halo turned wild. “Like lying? You always tell me it’s wrong to lie.”

“Not quite, no.” I gathered my thoughts. Beyond the windows, the city stretched like a distant constellation, the quiet hum of the air conditioner the only sound. “I’d just… be there for him, so he’s not so alone. But some people might think that means we’re boyfriends.”

“Oh.” She worked through this new piece of information before the line of her mouth firmed. “But then you’re just helping a friend. That’s good, isn’t it? We should always help if we can.”

It took me a moment to place it—I’d told her something to that effect when she mentioned how a new girl in her class seemed a little lonely. Reminder to self: anything you say can and will be used against you.

“You’re right,” I said. “We should. That’s great advice, love.”

Emily nodded proudly, pleased with herself, then yawned. I glanced at the clock—well past eleven.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” I asked. “It’s real late.”

She exhaled in a little huff. “D’you think Alba misses us? ‘Cause I miss her.”

“I think Granny and Grandpa are taking great care of her. But why don’t we call them tomorrow and you can check for yourself?”

Another yawn, followed by a quiet, “Okay.”

“Good.” I reached over to close my laptop, careful not to jostle her too much as I stretched to set it on the bedside table, then pressed the button for the curtains. They closed with a quiet whoosh, the room dissolving into shadows.

“‘Night,” she mumbled, already half-asleep, a small bundle of warmth against me. I shifted to get us both more comfortable, tugging the thin sheet up over us. Silence fell, a counterpoint to the thoughts still vibrating in my mind, like dogs chasing their own tails.

Tomorrow marked a crossroads. I still wasn’t sure which way to turn.

* * *

Beverly Hills,Saturday, August 16th

I’d fallen into a time capsule.

Cass’s house, the house we’d shared—it looked unchanged. Same Tuscan-style exterior, same fountain, same ivy climbing up its stone walls. Why hadn’t he moved? He could have told his assistant to arrange it, wouldn’t have needed to lift a finger. Walk out of this house one day and the next into a new place, fully set up and unburdened with history.

“Hey, man. Feeling all right?” Mason asked after he’d parked the car, the sudden stillness weighing in my bones.

“Yeah, just give me a sec.” I tipped my head back against the seat and took a deliberate breath, memories unfolding like origami.

Cass, barefoot and cross-legged on the sofa, strumming his guitar while I’d scribbled down half-rhymed lyrics. A stupid fight in the kitchen, couldn’t remember why, only that we hadn’t talked for hours—not until he slid into bed beside me, our fingers brushing in the dark. Our first day home after an epic world tour, no alarm set for once, waking up to sunlight and quiet. Tickling my fingers along the bare curve of his hip and how he’d shifted closer with a quietly pleased hum.

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