Graceless (Grace Notes #2)

“Oh Lane,” was all she said, with a shake of her head. “You are surrounded in trouble.”

Dinner, quite frankly, was a relief. Cassidy reverted to form, responding with unnecessary snippiness to a weary Savannah’s attempt to praise her new haircut, then huffed and sighed like an eight-year-old at Brynn’s gentle intervention. Lane was sitting next to her, rather than in the line of sight, so there was no conflicting awareness of her new physicality to deal with. Instead, they felt a comfortingly familiar sense of general irritation toward Savannah’s pain in the ass little sister and by the end of the evening, it all felt back to normal.

Except that from then on, at least once every day, Lane found themselves momentarily winded by how good Cassidy looked. They’d just be hanging with Tucker reading him stories or playing ball with him on the back lawn and all of a sudden Cassidy would saunter past in a cute little sundress or a tight t-shirt and Lane would have to swallow all the extra moisture that had suddenly arrived into their mouth. It was annoying.

They didn’t especially like Cassidy. They got that she was struggling through a hard time and was probably dealing with some residual trauma, but honestly, who the fuck wasn’t? The brattishness and ingratitude toward Savannah grated on Lane. Cassidy should be pleased as hell that she had a warm, generous, well-resourced family member inviting her to live in a gorgeous, safe mansion, but she just seemed pissy about it. Yeah, she could be sort of amusing and occasionally perceptive in a way that was a distant cousin of sweet, but that was on a good day.

It was aggravating that Lane’s brain knew all that perfectly well and yet their body had a mind of its own. It didn’t feel rational that despite Cassidy being Cassidy, Lane’s eyes still wanted to gaze upon her. It didn’t feel ethically correct how quickly their body lit up in her presence. Lane was slightly appalled that despite more than once being stirred to actual anger by Cassidy’s personality, values and beliefs, apparently all of that was discounted just because the shape of her waist made their mouth water.

Perhaps taking Mia up on her clearly obvious offer would honestly be better for everyone. Lane just wanted their brain back.

Chapter Eleven

Just over a week later, Cassidy stood in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom and tried not to hyperventilate. The biggest event she’d ever been to in her life had been at her high school gymnasium. What the hell did you wear to the Ryman Auditorium that said I’m a serious human being who doesn’t care that the star attraction tonight is my famous sister, but also I’m fascinating and sexy in my own right?

The minutes were counting down when finally she steadied herself. A little black dress was a cliche for a reason, and this one fit her like a glove. There was just enough skin on show and the insanely perfect cowboy boots Coral had insisted on buying her as a gift completed the outfit in a way that made her feel far more herself than any of the precarious heels in her new wardrobe. Carefully wavy hair and the red lipstick she’d finally figured out how to apply properly and all of a sudden it all came together. She snapped a picture and sent it to Coral.

She took a steadying breath and went downstairs. Savannah and Brynn had left for the venue hours ago, while Tucker was being put to bed by his back-up babysitter, Maya, so his regular nanny could have a night off for the occasion. Lane was sprawled on the couch, waiting for Cassidy instead.

“Finally,” they said as she appeared. They barely glanced at her outfit, so Cassidy had no reaction to gauge whether she looked hot, terrible, or somewhere in the middle. Lane – of course – looked fucking cool and attractive, because Lane always looked cool and attractive. They were wearing an appealingly lazy version of men’s formal wear, well-fitted, no tie, the white shirt partially unbuttoned for the occasional glimpse of muscular chest, like they’d just left a photo shoot for GQ magazine.

“Guess you’re my date.” Cassidy tried to poke them into looking at her seriously, but Lane just rolled their shoulders back and got to their feet.

“Guess so,” they agreed blandly. “Burt’s waiting.” They headed for the door without a backward glance. Just as it closed behind the two of them, Cassidy’s phone buzzed with a text. She pulled it out of her handbag to see that Coral had responded to her anxious selfie with a red kiss emoji and about time. get it girl.

“What?” Lane asked as Cassidy slid into the backseat after them. She wasn’t sure how they knew she had a somewhat relieved smile on her face without even looking at her, but apparently they did.

“Nothing,” she said. “Have you been to the Ryman before?”

“Yeah.” They gazed out into the sunset sky as the car headed up the driveway. “Savannah’s played it a stack of times, and Brynn a couple.”

“And?” Sometimes Lane just didn’t shut up and other times it was blood from a stone.

“And it’s everything everyone says it is. It’s fucking…church. Only in a good way. You’ll see.”

Cassidy did see. When Burt wished them a good night and they skipped the queue with their VIP passes, her breath caught. Inside was a literal church, but not like one she’d ever seen before. The vast space held over 2000 people, that much she knew, and all the long beautiful gleaming wooden pews faced down over two levels to the stage, the massive sound equipment hanging from the ceiling. It was already filling up with excited ticket holders.

Lane led them to their seats. They weren’t in the front few rows – those were reserved for the true VIPs and Cassidy gasped as she already recognised a few luminaries in their seats – but they were positioned in the fourth row. The stage would be within a few meters of them, closer than she’d be to her sister than if she was on the other side of the kitchen at home.

“You good?” Lane asked her as they found their position halfway down a pew. She’d stopped still, standing and staring at the hallowed stage.

“Oh! Yeah.” She sat down with a thump. Everyone she saw looked spectacular. This was the beating heart of Nashville, and an intimate show with one of the biggest stars in the country brought out everyone who was everyone. Cassidy felt small and out of place. It didn’t help that sometimes being with Lane was almost like being alone. They were gazing out at the stage thoughtfully, not remotely paying her any attention. She felt awkward in her dress – in her own skin – and uncharacteristically stuck for any words to get her concert-going partner to engage with her.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before the seats were filled, the lights dimmed, and a speaker from the Grand Ole Opry welcomed them, introduced the guest artist and the crowd gave the kind of roar that could raise the roof. The curtains opened, the drum beat started and out walked the band. Coral looked dressed to kill and Cassidy felt almost overwhelmed to see a human she knew striding confidently onto that stage, in front of everyone who mattered. She wished she could channel that kind of energy.

The music began to build and suddenly the crowd screamed in unison, as shimmering in a bright spotlight, Cassidy’s sister emerged from the wings. She looked wild, a long sparkling gorgeous gown clinging to her huge pregnant belly, her hair loose and wavy, her lipstick even redder than Cassidy’s own. She’d somehow managed to fit herself into staggering heels – despite having been complaining all week about her swollen feet – and her stride was confident. The crowd leapt to their feet, losing their minds at her appearance, and she hadn’t even opened her mouth yet.

Within a beat, she reached the microphone. The chords shifted, and she belted out the first notes of Dumb and Rich. The crowd roared, but the sound system overwhelmed them. Savannah’s voice filled the space and all of a sudden, Cassidy’s hands started to shake. This was what she’d always dreamed of as a child, when her big sister had started to hit the big time. Savannah would come for her, take her out into the world, sit her down in the best seat in the house as she sang on the biggest stages, her little sister glowing with pride and love. That’s my sister, she’d tell anyone who’d listen, and they’d gasp and envy her, the kid with the shining star as her sister and best friend.

She felt tears stinging her eyes. Oh god, no, this wasn’t the time for some kind of childhood reckoning breakdown. She bit down hard on her lip, her fingers pinching her other hand as hard as she could, trying to focus on that pain, rather than the pain spilling through her. The song ended and Savannah greeted the crowd, her familiar voice warm and incredibly comfortable despite what Cassidy could only imagine to be immense pressure.

To her increasing distress the next song was Looking Back, an aching, beautiful love song that blown up large like this, in a damn church with perfect sound, felt like a broken heart. Her sister’s voice was stupidly exquisite and something inside Cassidy – a ferocious brick wall she’d constructed from abandonment, pain and rage – just crumbled. She couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, thankfully drowned out by music and the crowd, breathing in silent gasps, forcing her body not to shake under the weight of the emotion, desperate to be invisible.

Suddenly, an arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders where she stood. Lane stayed looking at the stage, as if to give her privacy, but the unexpected kindness only broke her up more. They pulled her right into their body as she wept, her face pressed into their firm chest, both arms around her now, even as they stood looking resolutely ahead. The song finished and as she tried to gather herself, Lane looked down at her tear-stained face and silently pulled a literal cloth handkerchief, neatly ironed and folded, from their jacket pocket and pressed it into her hand. Cassidy spluttered out a giggle through her tears.

“Who even are you?” She held up the handkerchief and looked at them, raising her voice over the crowd’s roar.

“It’s just for show, usually.” Lane shrugged. They watched her as she tried to rescue her mascara. “Here-” They grabbed the handkerchief back and gently, with one hand cupping the back of her head, wiped it carefully just under her left eye. “You’ll do.” They nodded. “This got snot on it, or what?” They ruined the moment neatly with a glance down at the hanky. Cassidy laughed and refused to take it back, so they gingerly tucked it back into their suit.