Page 53 of Second to None

“Great.” I shot him a smile. “Grazie, Frank.”

He snorted and squeezed my shoulder before he got back in the car, but hey, whatever. That had been Italian. Probably. No, I was ninety percent sure. At least eighty. Christ, this was what I got for barely scraping through high school—being tutored on the road between concerts, interviews, and recording our first album hadn’t helped my grades.

“Listento you,” Levi said in lieu of a greeting, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Almost passing for a local already.”

“Almost, yeah.” I strove for a light smile to gloss over the stupid thudding of my heart. “Question, though: is buenas noches Italian?”

His smile was fond if a little hesitant as he took his hands out of his pockets. “Spanish, actually.”

“Oops,” I said quietly. For a beat, we both hovered on the verge of a hug—leaning in, with his parents just a step away. Only neither of us quite closed the gap, so he ended up patting my shoulder with a small, sweet grin, awkward but genuine. It eased a knot of tension at the base of my spine because maybe a part of me had worried he would regret inviting me.

I turned to his parents. Geoff gave me a brisk nod followed by a firm clap on the back. “Good to see you, son,” he said, and God, I remembered that—like walking back into a room I’d half forgotten. The way he’d always called me ‘son’ like it was a sign of approval.

Cecily sidestepped him to pull me into a real hug, short and strong, before she let go to look at me. “Levi told us you’re going to come out.” Her accent was bright and familiar. “That’s really brave. We’re so proud of you, love.”

I swallowed at the way her ‘o’ went round and open on ‘love’—just like when Levi used to call me the same. “Thank you,” I managed.

“Okay,” Levi said with pointed emphasis. “I think that’s quite enough with the emotional displays here. Three of us are Brits—there’s only so much of that we can handle.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cecily said.

“Two of us are British males,” he amended. “Have some mercy.”

“You’re not that bad,” I told him. He really wasn’t—not back then, not from what I remembered, and we’d sure had a number of tough conversations lately. Yeah, his voice tended to go flat in difficult moments, but he wasn’t running like some guys would.

“Well, I am trying to be a role model for Emily.” Self-deprecating humor shaded the statement when I was ready to bet it held a lot of truth.

We headed inside, Levi’s parents leading the way, he and I following with one suitcase each. I ditched my shoes by the door, stone tiles underfoot, a warm breeze sweeping in through open windows, walls rounded and corners arched as though the architect had tried to avoid sharp angles. A beautiful hush filled the space.

“Is Emily already asleep?” I asked, lowering my voice.

Levi slid me a quick smile. “The little miss went to bed grumpy because she wanted to bring her cat and her best friend. In that order.”

“Priorities.” I nodded gravely. “So why didn’t you let her?”

“Cats don’t like to travel.”

I bit down on a grin that he caught anyway.

“What’s so funny?”

“You becoming a cat expert. Who’d have thought?” I wasn’t actually looking for a reply, so I moved on right away. “No, I meant the friend. Why not bring them?”

“Partly because Emmy and her friend Lissie have already spent most of the summer attached at the hip.” He set the first suitcase down, gesturing for me to do the same with the second as he said, “We’ll take them to your room later.”

My room. Of course—it wasn’t like I’d expected to share his. It still felt like an exclamation mark somehow, and I smiled through the sting. “You said partly. What’s the other reason?”

“Lissie, her mom, and her little sister are staying at my house to look after Alba. Sarah—uh, the mom.” He paused, a faraway glint of sympathy in his eyes. “She’s a single parent, and not exactly flush with cash. So staying in a big house, a garden to play in, it’s a nice change, you know? And Alba likes the company.”

Typical—hiding his big heart behind barbed wire or under a layer of pragmatism. “That’s good of you,” I said.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It probably is a big deal to Sarah.”

Before he could further defend himself against allegations of generosity, his mom called from what seemed to be the direction of the kitchen. “Cass, love—we’ve got leftovers. Are you hungry?”

I almost declined, then remembered it was how she showed her affection. The rare times Levi and I had managed to drop by during the band days, she always shoved food at us, trying to get a few pounds on our skinny teenage frames.

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