Page 46 of Most Likely to Fear Love

Then the song changed.

At first, I didn’t notice a shift. She kept dancing, her movements loose and carefree, but something about her expression started to falter. It was subtle, like a light dimming behind her eyes. Her smile softened, then faded entirely, replaced by something else.

The music built, the singer’s voice raw and biting, and Cassidy’s steps became jerky. She stopped spinning and stood still, staring at the floor as the crowd swirled around her. I straightened in my seat, my hand tightening around the neck of my beer bottle.

“Cassidy,” I murmured under my breath, like she could hear me over the music.

Her new friends didn’t seem to notice. They danced on, bumping into her with playful nudges, but Cassidy wasn’t moving anymore. She pressed a hand to her stomach, the other gripping her beer bottle so tightly I thought it might shatter.

The lyrics were venomous now, the singer practically spitting out words that hit like daggers, and Cassidy’s face twisted into something raw. Pain. Anger. Something deeper and uglier than anything I’d seen in her before.

I set my beer down and stood, my heart hammering as I took a step toward her.

She suddenly moved, tilting her head back to drain the last of her drink in one long swallow. Then she lowered the bottle and stared at it, her chest heaving as the music reached its crescendo.

I froze mid-step, watching helplessly as Cassidy’s shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath. The lyrics were something about a blood sucker, a dream crusher.

And then it happened.

With a guttural sound that barely registered over the pounding music, she raised her arm and hurled the bottle against the wall. It exploded on impact, sending a spray of glass in all directions. The whole bar seemed to freeze, heads snapping toward the commotion. My breath caught as I took in Cassidy, standing in the center of the floor, chest heaving, her face pale except for the vivid flush of her cheeks.

“Cass!” I called, pushing through the frozen crowd toward her, my pulse roaring in my ears.

The crowd parted for me as I moved toward her, whispers buzzing like flies around me. The girls had formed a misshapen circle around her, unsure what to do. People were staring, but I didn’t care. My focus was on Cassidy, standing there trembling, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to stop herself from falling to pieces.

When she saw me, her face crumpled. Before I could say a word, she grabbed fistfuls of my shirt and gave me a weak shove, her eyes anguished.

“Why did he do that?” she demanded, her voice cracking. “Why did he do that to me?”

My chest ached like she’d driven her fist straight into it. I covered her hands with mine, steadying her trembling fingers as she buried her face against me. Her whole body shook, and I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close.

“I don’t know, darlin’,” I murmured into her hair. “I don’t know.”

She sobbed into my chest, her breath hitching as I held her. The music still thumped in the background, but it was distant, like it belonged to another world. Here, it was just me and Cassidy, and the pieces of her that felt like they were breaking apart in my arms.

I rested my chin lightly on top of her head, cradling her as the crowd around us watched in silence.

After a few moments, her breathing began to steady. I loosened my hold just enough to tip her chin up, but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. She looked drained, like every bit of energy she had had been wrung out of her.

“C’mon,” I said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her damp cheek. “Let’s get outta here.”

She nodded wordlessly, and I tucked her against my side, keeping a protective arm around her as we made our way to the bar. People looked away as we passed, their gazes sharp with curiosity or pity, but no one said a word.

At the bar, I grabbed my jacket and Cassidy’s purse, slinging it over my shoulder.

“She okay?” Pete asked.

“I don’t know. Sorry for the mess.” I pulled a hundred dollar bill from my back pocket and dropped it on the bar.

“Fuck off with that,” Pete said, pushing it back to me.

“Just take it.”

Cassidy didn’t even glance up, her head still ducked low as she clung to my side. I shot Pete a quick nod before guiding her toward the exit, feeling the weight of every eye in the room on us.

The cool night air hit us as soon as we stepped outside, and Cassidy sucked in a shaky breath. I held her closer, steering her toward the truck. We’d deal with the broken pieces later. Right now, all that mattered was getting her home.

The drive was heavy with silence, the only sound the low hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from Cassidy. I glanced over at her a few times, but she kept her face turned toward the window, her arms folded tightly.

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