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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Skylar

After feeling guilty that we hadn’t been to the shelter in a bit, Cassius and I—meaning him —baked a bunch of cookies to bring to the kids today. They were all really happy to see us, which didn’t make me feel any better about our absence. Now, all the kids are sugared-up—to Sadie’s annoyance—and we’re trying to figure out what to do next.

Sadie’s eyes are wide as saucers as she stares at the gigantic check I gave her. “Boys, this is too much.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a wave. “Our boss is loaded. He wanted the kids to have a nice prom too.”

I know it’s been a while since I volunteered, but these kids are important to me. They need help and would do anything they could to have consistency and support. None of them are a lost cause. None of them are rejects. They’re just kids, for fuck’s sake.

Cassius grins as she continues to drool over the check. He takes his guitar out of his case and addresses the room. “How about a song?”

To this, all the kids start shouting. They love when Cassius plays for them. They’re already rushing toward the music room before Cassius can even take a step. I follow close behind and take the spot all the way in the back, letting the kids have the front row. By the time I get settled, he’s tuning his guitar with dozens of little kids, and even some older ones, here to watch him play.

“What do you want to hear today?” he asks the kids.

He’s so fucking cool, he doesn’t even have to look down at what he’s doing to tune his guitar. He’s smiling warmly, so incredibly magnetizing, and I want to run up to the stage and hug him until he stays by my side forever.

“Can you do that old song we like?” one kid asks as he wiggles on the floor. “The one about the wise men?”

Cassius raises an eyebrow. “You want Elvis?” To this, all the kids nod in agreement, and he even gets some whoops and cheers. Chuckling fondly, he drags his bottom lip into his mouth and shrugs. “Elvis it is, then.”

He starts to play, and it’s impressive that a room full of children can manage to be so quiet. They’re all hypnotized by the way his fingers firmly and confidently pluck at the strings, entranced by how he sways ever-so-slightly as he gets into the beat, and occupied with the way he hums under his breath before he sings.

And when he sings…

I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything as beautifully haunting as Cassius’s voice.

His voice is deep and smooth. The way it goes from vibrating with power to trembling with restraint is amazing. It’s like when he sings, it’s coming from his very soul. You can feel every pain and every joy. You can hear the universe in the way he delivers each lyric, like he believes it so very intensely.

He’s a performer too. When he sings and plays, he does it with a kind of overwhelming showmanship that still ends up being subtle. The little smile he gives as he holds a particularly long note. The slight tip to his head at the hiccup of a beat. The slow roll of his shoulders as he delivers a meaningful lyric. All of these things add up to a show that you think you’d only get to witness once in your life. Like he’s gifting you with an experience you’ll never forget.

“Mr. Skylar,” a child beside me whispers as she tugs on my sleeve. “You’re crying.”

I hadn’t even noticed the tears until she pointed them out, and now that I do, I bat them away quickly. I cry too damn much. It’s just a song. Granted, a beautifully heart-clenching song about not being able to help falling in love. Either way, I need to get my shit together. It’s just sad at this point.

Once Cassius delivers the final note, everyone in the room claps. A standing ovation is the least we can do for that performance, but he accepts all the praise with a grace and humility he’s never lost. After the cheers die down, he takes some more requests.

And he plays and plays and plays. I’m sure his fingers are going to be sore by the time he’s done, but that doesn’t stop him. His eyes flick up to meet mine—a captivating blue I’ve always turned to for comfort—and there it is.

The look.

The one that makes my toes curl and my heart skip a beat. The one that always lets me know that everything is okay. The one that makes me believe I’m living in a fairy tale.

Once he’s done and Sadie calls out for snack time, I make my way up to the stage. Without giving him any warning, I slam my lips against his. It’s a bit awkward since he’s too tall for me to reach unless he bends down, but that doesn’t stop me from pouring out all the love I feel for him in this one embrace.

He pulls back with a small smile, his cheeks slightly red. “What was that about?”

“You’re so talented, Cassy,” I tell him, brushing his strong cheekbones with the pad of my thumb. “You really should consider branching out and meeting some people.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What for?”

“For people to hear your music,” I say. “You know I get a lot of DMs from producers.” When he rolls his eyes, I persist. “If you would only give them a shot?—”

“Skylar, we’ve talked about this,” he says gently, pushing me back just a bit. “I’m happy where I’m at. I don’t need to be famous to feel fulfilled with my life and with my music.”

“I know, but?—”

“No, Skylar.” There’s a touch of firmness to his voice that I’ve never heard before, something rough and angry. When he sees my wide eyes, he curses and corrects himself. “I love you for caring, but I don’t want to talk to any producers.”

I nibble on my bottom lip and nod, disappointed. “Okay. If you say so.”

“I do.” Suddenly, a wolfish grin curves his lips. “We still have time before work, you know?”

My mouth waters and I squeak as he steps closer. Not too close to be indecent, considering where we are, but close enough that I can feel the pure need pouring out of him. Dumbly, I nod. “Uh-huh.”

He chuckles and laces his hand with mine. Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, he snatches his case, and we make our way back to the main room. We bid a quick goodbye to the kids and Sadie and rush home, taking the soccer mom van since he still won’t let me ride his motorcycle.

But the entire drive, I keep thinking about his voice. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime gift he’s been given. It’d be a shame to keep it hidden in the walls of XO. I know he said he wasn’t interested, but my phone—filled with DM requests—burns a hole in my pocket.

What’s the harm in just hearing one of them out?