Page 44 of Courting Trouble
Then a voice broke in. ‘Cassie…’ Delilah said softly and tentatively.
Cassie lifted her head, shocked, wiping at her cheeks. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said.
Delilah shook her head. ‘It’s not nothing.’
Cassie didn’t know what to say. But then Delilah sat down next to her. She didn’t say anything else. They sat like that for a long minute. Cassie let herself lean back into the trunk again, a little less rigid. Not comforted, exactly. But not alone.
Delilah reached out, hand hovering near her shoulder, then settled it lightly on the tree. Still, she didn’t say anything.
Forty-Five
Delilah noticed Cassie looking at Petra.
For a moment, she felt a hot stab of jealousy. Before she could begin to reprimand herself—something along the lines of,she’s not your toy and it’s not up to you who plays with her—she noticed the misery in Cassie.
She realised Petra was not someone to envy. Because Petra had obviously hurt Cassie very, very badly. And Delilah didn’t need that explained anymore. She’d just had to use her eyes and really look at Cassie while they talked. Despite Cassie’s best efforts, it was plain on her.
Cassie told her to cool down and left suddenly. Delilah did as she was told, noticing that Petra’s session with her young player ended abruptly. She walked the same way as Cassie.
Delilah didn’t stop stretching. This was none of her beeswax.
She had herself believing that for nearly a minute before she gave up and went after Cassie. She wasn’t sure exactly whyshe was chasing after them. Cassie didn’t need a white knight. Shewasthe white knight. How many times had she come to Delilah’s rescue?
Then she saw them. Cassie was walking angrily away while Petra stood there like her batteries had been pulled out, looking wounded and unhappy, a mile away from the usual woman of iron.
Delilah didn’t care about her anyway. She followed Cassie, at a distance, to a trail. Delilah slowed, suddenly afraid of intruding, but she pressed on. And then she saw her.
Cassie was slumped against a tree, shoulders shaking, hands pressed to her face. The sight stopped Delilah cold. She hadn’t expected this. Not that Cassie would cry, though—she was always so strong, so controlled. But it was how small she looked, how vulnerable. It made Delilah’s heart hurt.
She had a choice to make. She could attempt to comfort Cassie and risk angering her, or walk away and pretend she hadn’t seen this.
‘Cassie…’
Cassie lifted her head just enough for Delilah to see her red, streaked cheeks. She tried to wipe at her face, like she thought she was going to be able to scrub away the last minute and pretend Delilah wasn’t finding her in this way.
‘It’s nothing,’ Cassie said, voice brittle at the edges.
Delilah shook her head, a little unsteadily. ‘It’s not nothing.’ Her voice was quiet, careful. This was a very fragile moment.
She sat down next to Cassie, in the leaves and dirt, heart hammering in her ears. Her hand hovered near Cassie’s shoulder, almost shaking from her own nerves, then she let itrest lightly near her, though, of course, not on her. That might spook her. And Delilah wanted to be here for her. For so many reasons.
The heat pressed down on them, but Delilah barely noticed. Her focus was on Cassie. She wasn’t done crying, but she was doing it quietly.
Then, with a last shuddering breath, Cassie seemed to run out of feeling. Slowly, like coaxing a wild animal, Delilah placed a hand on her shoulder. She expected resistance, a flinch, some sign she’d crossed a line.
But Cassie didn’t move.
Moments passed. And then Cassie gave way, slumping sideways, into her. The movement stole Delilah’s breath. Instinctively, she slid her arm around Cassie’s back, drawing her closer.
And just like that, she realised, with something close to awe, she was holding Cassie.
Forty-Six
Cassie was on her bunk, eyes wide open, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Twelve. It might be thirteen, but the last one was possibly just a dead spider. She couldn’t decide.
She hadn’t meant to let Delilah hold her. Cassie should have shoved her off. Should have laughed, or turned, or done anything to break the contact. But she didn’t. She sat there and let it happen. Leaned in to it, even.
And now she couldn’t stop replaying it.
