Page 37 of Second to None

“And on that delightful note...” I clapped my hands. “Let’s go. Also, I’m going to have an extra serving of dessert. Perks of being an adult.”

“Amen,” Mason said.

“I’ll save you some,” Cass promised Emily in a stage whisper as he rose to his full height. Something about the scene twisted my chest. Yeah, so Cass was a natural with kids and had always gravitated towards them at meet-and-greets. But seeing him interact with Emily, the number-one person in my life...

God, I needed to put a lid on my errant thoughts.

Before we left, Mason demanded that Cass and I pose for a picture he could share with Jace and Ellis because “This might be the closest I’ll get to being a prom night parent. My darling boys looking all grown up and fancy. So let me have this?”

“I’m older than you,” I reminded him while Cass laughed, his face a little pink even as he slung an arm around my waist.

“Come on, then.”

“This is ridiculous.” I still leaned into him, hips and shoulders aligned, his familiar warmth against my side. Different cologne—a little bolder, fruity with a smoky, woody base. It suited him, or at least it suited this older, more self-aware version of him. And Christ, if not for the commentary on my cologne, I wouldn’t even notice his.

“Smile,” Mason ordered.

We did—muscle memory, built through countless photoshoots, all of us trained to look and smile a certain way, heads angled just so. It was a habit I still seamlessly stepped into whenever fans asked for a picture.

Once Mason was satisfied, I gave Emily another hug, and then Cass and I left. His car was a sleek black number, understated luxury more than a flashy scream for attention. Well, he got enough of that without even trying, didn’t he? Just a week ago, the thought might have been dusted in bitterness, while now there was a softness to it, a wistful sense of understanding. Maybe he had loved me just as much as I’d loved him.

The gate slid open for us, and we pulled away from Mason’s house. Brief silence flooded the space between our seats—sudden awareness that we were truly alone for the first time in years. His hands were sure and steady on the steering wheel, a newfound ease that no longer betrayed that he’d been a nervous driver at first. The curve of his profile caught the brightness of this summer evening, golden light tracing the sharp edge of his jaw.

“You look nice,” he said after a minute, eyes on the road.

Oh. Not like I hadn’t heard it before, not like I didn’t still get compliments on the regular—but this was Cass. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, kindly ironed by Mason’s cleaning lady. “So do you. Though that was never really in question, was it?”

His laugh was soft, even a little shy. “Thank you.”

Another beat passed. I sought out the tiny scar on his thumb and wondered if he still tuned his guitar as a means to calm down, to exert a sense of control, tightening and loosening the strings until they snapped. Jace wasn’t the only one who’d struggled with bouts of nerves, but Cass hid it better. Over time, I’d learned to recognise the signs.

His gaze flickered to me before I could avert my eyes. “What’s it like?” he asked, mild hesitation colouring his tone. “Raising Emily, I mean. Since, like… Obviously, this is different. But I don’t remember you ever wanting kids.”

“I didn’t.” This felt like poking at old wounds—watching Cass’s face light up as he held a tiny, chubby Emily in his arms, wondering if he wanted that for his future, nicely bundled in with a wife, a wedding ring, and a white picket fence. I exhaled and let it go. “Maybe I could have come around to the idea. But it’s not something I actively chose. And it’s… I love her. God, I do.”

“I can tell,” he said softly. “Anyone who watches you with her for even just a minute can tell that.”

I turned my face away to gather my thoughts. Lingering heat gleamed above the pavement, the low sun turning palm trees into giant sundials. Usually, I didn’t share this part, but Cass had always been good at listening, and he’d sounded genuine, like he really wanted to know.

“It’s constant,” I admitted in an undertone. “I’m not complaining, right? It’s just the reality. Especially since it’s just me, and coming into this whole thing, I had no fucking clue. So I’m always worrying—about the little things, the big things. Like, how much screen time is too much? Is she brushing her teeth properly? Is she happy? Am I enough for her? Does she miss her mum too much?”

“Lee.” Cass’s voice was thick and heavy. “That little girl loves you something fierce.“

“I know. But when Jess died—” My voice cracked, and fuck, how had this conversation taken such a quick plunge into dark waters? “When Jess died, it was like my whole world stopped. Rug pulled out from under my feet. But I couldn’t just curl up and cry, you know? Because there was Emmy, and she wasn’t talking, was barely eating, and my parents were grieving so it fell to me to… do something. Anything. I didn’t have time to grieve because someone had to keep it together.”

“You’ve always been that person.” The set of Cass’s mouth was soft, serious. “Taking care of people. Me, the other guys, anyone who needed a hand—you’d be the first one to offer.”

I laughed so I wouldn’t cry. “Didn’t take very good care of myself for a while, now did I?”

He was quiet for a beat, sadness in the curve of his mouth. When he spoke, it barely rose above the quiet buzz of the car. “That’s what happens when good people give too much. Eventually, they run dry.”

Jesus.

I dug my fingers into my thighs as I waited for the sense of vertigo to pass. A dog, its head stuck out of a passing convertible, caught my eye—ears flapping wildly and tongue lolling out. Just enjoying the moment.

“You know how we made a deal to stop apologising?” Cass asked after a minute, still so very gentle. “That means forgiveness, right? Maybe it’s also time you forgive yourself.”

“Easier said than done,” I replied, and he sighed.

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