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“Settle down, big guy.” Casey patted Dev’s chest. “He’s talking about Nash.”
“Oh. That’s okay then.”
Owen’s shoulders sagged. “Damn. That means the band’s breaking up.”
“You could get another guitarist,” Haru said. “You did before.”
“Maybe. But who’d write the songs?” He tapped Casey’s shoulder. “And who wants to work with a dickhead?” He glanced between Dev and Haru. “Don’t suppose you two would be looking for a drummer?”
Dev shared a look with Haru. “I don’t know, Owen. We haven’t really gone much further than the possibility. We won’t tour. No industry events or perks. And whatever we do would be based here in Home.”
Owen glanced sidelong at Kenny. “There’s worse places to be.” He linked elbows with Haru. “Come on. If it’s our last appearance, let’s make it a good one.” He dragged Haru out from under the willow and toward the woods.
“Did he…” Kenny looked at Dev and Casey. “Was he flirting with me?”
Dev chuckled. “Kenny, my man, if you can’t tell, then you’ve been single for way too long.”
“Tell me about it,” Kenny muttered. “I better go check on my high school crew. See you guys later. And Dev? Seriously great set.” He grinned. “Welcome back.”
Dev frowned after him. “What does he mean? I’ve been here for almost two years.”
“I think, sweetheart, that he means welcome back to you.” Casey gazed up at Dev, his eyes serious, and placed his palms on Dev’s chest. “I don’t blame you for leaving the band or for returning to Home.” His expression darkened. “And lord knows I’m ecstatic that you left the dickhead in the dust. But music and Home aren’t mutually exclusive.” He patted Dev’s chest. “The magic is in you. You carry it with you wherever you go, with or without your instruments, as long as you set it free. That’s what Kenny meant.”
Thank god he’d already performed, because Dev’s throat was so tight he couldn’t have done anything other than croak.
When Dev left the band, it had seemed like an either/or decision. He’d been treating POV and music as though they were synonymous, but they weren’t, just as—like Casey had brilliantly put it, igniting a giant fucking lightbulb over Dev’s head—Home and music weren’t mutually exclusive.
He’d been caught in some kind of toxic denial triangle for almost two years: Can’t have Home and POV, can’t have music without POV, therefore can’t have Home and music.
Yes, he’d been juggling the grief of loss—his brother, his grandfather, and music—with stepping into a role he’d never expected to fill and for which he was woefully unprepared.
But then Casey.
Casey had shown Dev that he could recombine his responsibilities and his passions into a new dynamic that—if he didn’t fuck it up again—could make him better at both.
Dev wrapped his arms around Casey and buried his face in Casey’s soft hair. “God, I love you,” he choked out. “I’m going to miss you so much when you go.”
“What if,” Casey said, his voice muffled by Dev’s chest, “you didn’t have to miss me? What if I stay?”
Dev’s heart bounced against his collarbone. What? He raised his head and searched Casey’s face. “You’d do that? You’d stay for me?”
“No.” Casey shook his head, and Dev’s heart plummeted. “I’d stay for us. I’d stay for what we can do here—and not just for the town and its people, but for what we can do, both together and separately, for ourselves.” He gazed up at Dev, his lips curved in a soft smile, his eyes warm. “You’re on the cusp of something, Dev. We both are. Of remaking our lives into something we can love, something we can be proud of, something meaningful.”
With the tip of one finger, Dev traced Casey’s face from temple to chin. “I see how this benefits me. But what about you? Your life is in Manhattan.”
“Wrong.” Casey caught Dev’s hand against his cheek. “My residence was in Manhattan, but I wouldn’t call my existence there a life, at least not one I chose. But this? Home? You? This is home. This I choose.” Uncertainty flickered across his face, and he bit his lip. “That is… if you want me to.”
Dev whooped, his grin so wide his cheeks hurt. He grabbed Casey around the waist again and danced in a circle.
“Dev,” Casey said crossly. “What did I say about the twirling? I get motion sick.”
“Can’t have that.” Dev strode to the willow’s trunk and pressed Casey’s back against it. “How’s this? Too lumpy?”
Casey wriggled, causing some very distracting friction when he wrapped his legs around Dev’s waist. “No. But this hideaway isn’t as private as you might think.”
“I know.” He kissed Casey once, just a soft press of lips, and set him down. “We’ll go back to our house and lock the door. Then I’ll show you exactly how happy I am that you’ve found a home in Home. With me.”
A muffled mew at their feet was followed by a soft plop.
