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Cash cocked his head. “And that is...”
“Day drinking.” Gavin grinned. “I’ll drive, so no danger of a DUI.”
“You’re a funny guy.”
“Thanks.” Gavin grinned, ignoring Cash’s sarcasm.
“Anyway, I’m busy.”
“Doing what? Going to throw the guitar in next?” His brother hefted the instrument. “I’d pay to see that.”
Cash snatched his guitar. He’d sooner die than sacrifice her to the lake’s bottom.
“Luke’s at the Cheshire. Asked me to call you and invite your sorry ass. We’ll have the rooftop to ourselves. You could use a break. Bring the guitar. And your notebook. Eh, a new notebook. Maybe inspiration will hit after a few whiskeys.”
Cash studied the blue lake and bluer sky, the trees on the horizon. Laughter of vacationers on a boat in the distance carried on the wind. If he wasn’t inspired here, he didn’t hold out hope for being inspired elsewhere, whiskey or no.
“What’s Luke really want?” Cash asked, suspicious.
“I’m not supposed to say.”
“Gavin.”
“He wants you to play the original ‘Back for Good’ at the Cheshire. I’m supposed to fetch you, bring you there, get you drunk and make sure you agree.”
Cash was already shaking his head.
“Don’t change the song, Cash. But not because of Will, or Luke, or me. Keep it for the album. For the fans. They deserve the truth. They appreciate that sort of thing, which is why they appreciate you. You’re talented, but your superpower is your honesty.”
“What about Presley? What does she deserve?”
“She deserves the truth, too.”
The truth.
He hadn’t been able to admit the truth about her to anyone—not even himself. Maybe that would be the start of healing. Maybe not. Only one way to know for sure. He took a breath before committing, and then said, “Me loving Pres isn’t going to change anything. We can’t be together for a lot of reasons, the least of them me not telling her how I feel.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Gavin agreed, and Cash realized he’d been hoping his younger brother would argue. He’d hoped for a few reasons to pursue Presley. To try calling her again. To fly down to Florida and beg her to give him a second chance. No. A third chance.
Gavin’s smile was tight and Cash understood why his brother hadn’t encouraged him. Presley must have said more than Gav was letting on.
It was official. Cash had lost her. For good this time.
“Let’s go to the Cheshire.”
What did he have to lose? His song ideas were at the bottom of Mountain View Lake. Presley wasn’t speaking to him. The song he desperately needed to rewrite wasn’t coming to him.
If there was ever a time to bury his sorrows in the bottle, it was now.
Delilah rarely smiled the way she’d smiled when Presley’s article had been published. Since the timing had coincided with Cash Sutherland and Hannah Banks’s duet going gold, the interest in both artists had an organic spike. Presley’s article was currently Viral Pop’s most popular piece of content.
It’d been picked up and shared countless times on social media. The contest was in the bag, her raise forthcoming and she’d been given the green light to book a flight to wherever in the world she’d like to transfer with the company.
She’d done it.
And it felt nothing like she’d imagined it would. There was no parade, though her fellow writers had surprised her with cupcakes. She’d thanked them, of course, and pasted on a smile, but it was hard to feel celebratory when she’d spent most of her days split between being miserable and angry.
She felt similar to when Cash left the first time, except then she hadn’t known what it was like to have sex with him, or be held in his arms all night. Now she did, which made the memories harder to deal with. Especially since she had lost him forever this time.
