Graceless (Grace Notes #2)

“Good. You should.”

“But?”

“But nothing.”

“Okay…” Cassidy shrugged.

“Except,” Brynn exhaled after a moment, “just don’t discount it altogether. Love hits way harder when you’re not expecting it. Keep your eye on that sucker, or it’ll knock you sideways.”

“Wow. That’s beautiful,” she said drily. “You should totally write a song about that.”

“What do you think you were listening to all day?” Brynn gave her a satisfied smirk. “Hopefully it came out a little smoother.”

Cassidy thought back through the song in her mind. The key change, the catch in her throat, the feeling like her heart would burst.

“Yeah,” she said. “It came out okay.”

As the blazing sun slipped behind the hills, Cassidy went for a walk to see Jasper. She’d met all of Savannah’s horses by now, but the big chestnut softie was her favorite.

The heat of the day was slowly cut through with a taste of crispness in the air as the shadows lengthened and the evening frogs began to croak in the back paddocks. Cassidy pressed her face into Jasper’s warm neck.

“One day soon I’m going to take you for a ride,” she promised. She would probably have to sneak him out. Savannah was insistent that until she knew the horses and the tracks, horse riding was strictly on a buddy system. Since Lane seemed to pretty much hate her now, she could either sneak Jasper out or sweet talk the taciturn stable manager into supervising her long enough to appease her sister. What she really wanted was to be left alone, just her and her one friend, out in the hills, in the wild together.

“Goodnight buddy,” she whispered, and with one last stroke of his soft nose, she turned and walked back down the track through the fields. The warm air was like a caress on her skin and as the day came to a close, she felt as close to mellow as she’d felt in a long time. It was that sense of calm, almost groundedness that gave her the ability to call Lane’s name as she saw them cross the bottom of the lawn toward the guesthouse.

Lane paused on the grass, frowning, clearly undecided whether to wait or ignore her. Cassidy sped up.

“I’m sorry,” she said as soon as she arrived in front of them. Lane was wearing navy shorts and a soft loose white v-neck t-shirt that bared their firm biceps, the swoop of their dark curled hair flopping like a beautiful guy in a hipster cologne commercial. The warmth of the sunset glow behind them and the slight glare in their expression only enhanced the effect.

“It’s cool,” they said, already turning to leave.

“No, wait.” Cassidy reached out, her fingers almost brushing Lane’s arm, but not quite. Lane looked at her, their expression not quite patient, but not far off it either. “I’m actually sorry. Really sorry. What I said to you was gross.”

“Oh, the help comment?” Lane said flatly. “Yeah, that one made a real impression.”

“It was a shitty thing to say. But it wasn’t meant for you.” She tried to explain. “It was a dig at Savannah that put you in the firing line.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lane looked even less impressed.

“Look…I grew up poor as dirt,” Cassidy said plainly. “My mom, when she could, worked as a cleaner. As soon as I was old enough to help out, I did too. Savannah did the same thing when she was at home. We were all the help. And not anywhere near the level of a live-in nanny for a rich celebrity.”

“Okay…” Lane nodded slowly. “So why use it against someone else?”

“I guess I keep wanting to remind Savannah…who she is, where she came from. Make her see that this rich lady life she leads has blinded her to reality.”

“But why?” Lane frowned. “And what reality?”

“Because I want her to finally see it – the reality the rest of us live in!” Cassidy struggled not to lose her cool. “The reality of just trying to survive, the reality where people get hurt-” She bit down on her tongue. She wasn’t about to humiliate herself again.

Lane was looking at her closely. Their gold-brown eyes were serious, but the accusatory look had gone away.

“Did someone hurt you, Cassidy?” they asked softly. She scoffed automatically to deny it, folding her arms against her abdomen as if her bruising was obvious through her clothes. “I’m sorry,” Lane said, as if Cassidy had actually outright admitted it, “I hate that for you. But listen,” their eyes held hers, “you’re safe now, okay? Savannah will make sure of it. She’s always been good at that.”

“You sound pretty certain.” Cassidy had heard Lane’s veneration of Savannah before.

“Well yeah,” they said, “she did it for me.” Cassidy stared. Lane gave her a small smile. “Hey,” they nodded toward the back patio where the family were slowly gathering around the table, “I’ve got an idea: let’s act like total best friends for dinner. We can fuck with their heads by pretending you’re not a sulky brat literally all of the time.”

Cassidy glared at them, and Lane laughed. Side by side, they walked up the lawn to family dinner.