Then Casey was there.
Her arm slid around Stephanie’s waist like it belonged there. The contact burned through the thin blouse, a tingling rush that spread up her sides and down her thighs in a warm wave. Her breath caught.
The solid pressure of Casey’s palm against her hip sent sparks across every nerve ending. Stephanie’s knees nearly gave out.
This was something vast and terrifying opening inside her, and the rum only made it louder, loosening every careful boundary she had tried to keep in place since the first night she had looked out that upstairs window.
“Sorry, Ash,” Casey said, voice smooth but edged with something protective. “We’re actually together.”
Ash raised an eyebrow but backed off with a knowing nod, the kind of look that left Stephanie wondering exactly how much had shown on her face.
In the next blur of motion Casey had taken her hand, fingers threading through hers with gentle certainty, and led her back to their spots at the bar. The contact sent a fresh wave through her already unsteady system. Stephanie’s palm tingled where their skin met, the sensation traveling up her arm and straight into her chest until her heart felt like it might crack open.
She kept her eyes on the polished wood of the bar, on the faint condensation ring left by someone’s glass, on anything thatmight steady her, even as the rum hummed louder and the truth of the evening pressed closer.
She gripped the fresh drink Casey had ordered for her. Tipsiness hummed in her blood now, loosening her tongue while sharpening every feeling.
She wanted to pull away.
She wanted to lean in.
The contradiction left her dizzy, the bar tilting softly around her while Casey’s thumb brushed once across her knuckles, accidental or not. Nothing made sense anymore. Not Nico. Not Gary. Not the life she had left behind in Charleston.
Only the steady warmth of Casey’s hand in hers felt true.
And that truth scared her more than anything had in years.
14
Casey kept her fingers laced through Stephanie’s longer than she needed to. The contact sent a low current up her arm that settled somewhere behind her ribs and refused to leave. She told herself it was only the rum, only the humid press of bodies in Lola’s, only the way the Edison bulbs turned everything soft and golden.
None of it helped.
Her own palm felt too warm against Stephanie’s, too aware of the faint tremor still running through the other woman’s hand. She should let go.
Straight women did not hold hands like this. Straight women did not look at her the way Stephanie had looked at Ash a moment ago, caught between terror and something brighter she clearly did not want to name.
She unthreaded their fingers under the bar, slow enough that it might pass for casual. The absence of Stephanie’s touch left her skin cold.
Casey picked up her own drink instead, the glass slick with condensation, and took a long swallow that did nothing to settle the ache blooming low in her stomach.
“Sorry about that,” she said, voice steadier than she felt. “Ash isn’t exactly subtle.”
Stephanie’s laugh came quiet, almost shy, brushing warm against Casey’s shoulder. “It’s flattering. I can’t remember the last time someone approached me like that.” She took a sip from the fresh Painkiller, lips closing around the straw in a way that made Casey’s throat tighten. “So there’s nothing to apologize for. I don’t know if you noticed, but I kind of froze. I don’t know what I would have said to her.”
Casey’s mouth curved before she could stop it. The image of Stephanie standing there speechless, eyes wide, sent a helpless rush of fondness through her chest that felt far too dangerous. She kept her gaze on the mirrored backbar instead of the real woman beside her. Stephanie’s dark waves had loosened in the humidity, one strand clinging to the side of her neck where a faint sheen of sweat had gathered.
Casey wanted to brush it back. She wanted a lot of things she had no right to want.
“That you’re straight and not interested?” Casey guessed, forcing lightness into her tone even as the words tasted sour. “But it’s more fun for Ash to think we’re together.”
“Who broke up with who?”
Casey exhaled. “I broke up with her. I found out she was cheating.”
Stephanie’s eyebrows lifted, surprise flickering across her face in the low light. Casey’s stomach did a slow flip that had nothing to do with the alcohol. She hated how quickly her body responded, how every small reaction from this woman pulled at her like tide. The ache settled deeper, warm and insistent behind her ribs, pressing against the walls she had built so carefully after Melissa. After Ash. After every woman who had kissed her in private and left her in the daylight.
She wanted to lean closer. She wanted to slide her hand back over Stephanie’s and feel that pulse jump again. Instead she gripped her glass tighter until the cold bit into her fingers, grounding herself in the sting. Stephanie was straight. Straight and only here for six weeks. The facts lined up like warning signs, yet Casey’s eyes kept drifting to the way the green fabric moved across Stephanie’s collarbones every time she breathed.
