Melt Your Heart
Updates a week apart? I'm not even sure who I am anymore, but at the moment, this fic is flowing.
Thank you as always to everyone who commented/liked/favourited etc. It means the world. Hope you enjoy this one, too.
Chapter 28: Of the Good Variety
Sam Radford received two pieces of news in quick succession, one good, the other…well, that would depend on how you looked at it.
While George was tinkering with his plumbing, Sam's cell phone had rung, and seeing that it was the realtor's number, he excused himself to the living room to take the call.
He paced the carpet, belatedly realising he was holding his breath; he hadn't known how important this was to him until right this second. It wasn't like he didn't have a backup option if this fell through, a single man on the kind of salary he earned was far from underprivileged, but this was a business decision, not a personal one.
He had other ideas for the money he'd saved over the years, and those ideas were not remotely work related.
"That's great to hear, thanks for your help, Mike," he said, as they wrapped up the call.
Before he went to join George in the kitchen, he might have punched the air in celebration; something was finally going his way.
The next step in his master plan would be actually finding a property that would suit his needs and then, finally, it would be time to think about telling the hospital his intentions. He knew they wouldn't want to see him go, but he hoped they'd be supportive and let him slowly transition out of his employment.
When he went back into the kitchen, George was looking a little concerned. A frown marred a face that was usually full of mischievous jollity.
"How's it looking?" Sam asked him, leaning against the kitchen counter and putting far too much effort in trying to act casual.
"Not great," George admitted. "There are a few bits and pieces I'll need to finish the job, which shouldn't be a problem to get hold of, except I'll need to get them from Blairsville." He pushed up the sleeve of his overalls. "I definitely won't make it out there today before they shut."
Now, Sam wasn't quite sure how he felt about this. On the one hand it was frustrating that the situation wasn't resolved yet, and he wouldn't be able to stay in his own house again (well, not if he wanted a shower, or a drink, both of which he happened to think were quite essential), but on the other hand it meant another night at Grey House, if Cassie and Abigail would have him.
"I can drive over there first thing tomorrow," George was explaining, oblivious to Sam's internal dilemma. "And hopefully have everything up and running by tomorrow lunchtime?"
"That would be great, George, thank you." Sam replied, shaking the other man's hand and clapping him on the shoulder gratefully.
"Will you be alright until then, kid?"
Sam nodded. "I stayed at Grey House last night; hopefully they can put me up again."
"Well, anything you need, just give a me call," George told him as packed up his toolbox, but his bright eyes were sparkling and he had a feeling that Sam would be looked after very well indeed.
"Thank you, George," Sam said gratefully, leading the older man to the front door.
He walked with him up to the end of the drive, talking about this and that. Sam might have a bit of reputation for being the grumpy bachelor around town, but he had always felt comfortable and at ease with George. And he always wanted to call his dad after they'd had a conversation.
The two men were just saying their goodbyes when they heard the familiar sound of Abigail's high-heeled boots clicking along the sidewalk.
"Hello, gentlemen," she greeted, slowing her pace and smiling at her two favourite Middletonian men.
"Hi, Abigail," George replied, returning her smile. Everyone always said that Abigail was prickly and difficult to get along with, but he'd only ever sensed warmth from her. She kept a lot hidden behind her walls, he thought.
"Nice to see you, George," she said, with genuine feeling. "And Sam, your room is still available for tonight if you want it."
Without waiting for an answer, and sketching a wave over her shoulder, Abigail continued on her way to Grey House.
Sam and George shared a look and a rueful smile; one day they were going to figure out exactly how she did that.
"Before you get pissed at me again for not telling you," Abigail said without preamble as she strode into the kitchen, already knowing the twins weren't there so she could let loose the curse word, even if, in her opinion, it wasn't one of the bad ones. "Sam will be staying here again tonight."
Cassie seemed remarkably Zen about this, and Abigail had to stop herself from reaching out to lay her palm against her cousin's forehead to see if she had a fever.
"I had a feeling," Cassie admitted. "So I didn't bother to change the bedding, and added some extra towels in the bathroom. While he wasn't here."
She added the last sentence in response to the eyebrow her cousin had just raised.
"And you don't mind?" Abigail asked, feeling she was pushing her luck, although this didn't usually stop her.
"Would it matter if I did?" Cassie replied, the icy tone of her voice catching both women by surprise.
"Of course," Abigail answered quickly before Cassie could elaborate. "This is your home as much as mine."
"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Cassie sighed rubbing her temples. "It's just that Sam and I have been getting on a little better recently, but it feels like having him in the house so much is going to jinx that."
"I can tell him 'no', if you want…"
Cassie shook her head. No, that would only make things worse.
"It's fine," she assured Abigail. "I should go and check on the twins though, I dread to think how many leaves are now glued to the patio table."
Wordlessly, Abigail watched Cassie head out through the back door and smiled a little at the blast of delighted laughter that blew in with the wind.
She still hadn't told Cassie about the newest Merriwick cousin, but maybe it was best to wait until Sam was safely back in his own home with his plumbing up and running.
She just hoped she had time to warn Cassie before the third Merriwick arrived in Middleton.
Abigail wasn't sure she could face the fallout of Cassie finding out before she'd told her truth; she didn't want to risk ruining the family they were building.
So, maybe Sam's presence would help?
Cassie wasn't quite sure how she was going to explain this to her children, when she didn't really understand it herself. It should be simple enough; they had guests stay at Grey House frequently, but they were usually strangers, not their next door neighbour. They'd been asleep when Sam had stayed there the previous night, so it hadn't really mattered but they deserved to know that he would there again tonight.
After she'd examined their leaf artwork and made the right noises to show how impressed she was, she sat between them on the bench and wrapped her arms around them both.
"So, I just thought you two should know that Sam is going to be staying here at Grey House tonight," she explained.
"Sam is staying here?" James asked, his eyes full of wonder. There was more than a little hero worship going on here, she realised.
"Yes," she confirmed. "But he's been very busy at the hospital, so you're not to bother him unless he wants to spend time you, okay?"
James nodded, but Catherine seemed to be turning this over in her head.
"Will he be sleeping in your bedroom, mommy?" she asked.
No matter what magic you possessed, kids could always surprise you. Especially your own.
"No, honey. Sam will be staying in one of the guest rooms."
"Oh," Catherine replied, her brow furrowed. "Well, it would be okay if he did."
"Sam and I are just friends," Cassie reminded her, but the words burned her mouth as she said them. They might be friendly, but she didn't think they could ever just go back to being friends again. When a fire existed between you like that, you couldn't ever be truly platonic.
"Sure, mommy," Catherine said, in a tone much older than her years.
Her daughter was definitely spending too much time with cousin Abigail.
"I invited Sam for dinner," Abigail said the moment that Cassie and twins traipsed back inside.
Of course she had, Cassie thought as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Luckily, she had brought extra at the supermarket because, at the back of her mind, she had foreseen something like this.
"Well, he'd better like chicken cacciatore," Cassie muttered, crossing the kitchen and opening the refrigerator.
"He does."
His voice made her jump, and she nearly hit her head on the shelf. Damn it, where was her Merriwick "Spidey" sense when she needed it?
"Well, that's good," she replied, not looking back over her shoulder at him, focusing on reaching for the package of chicken breasts and hoping the coolness of the fridge would chill the flush from her cheeks.
When she had extracted herself from the refrigerator, Sam had disappeared and so had the twins. She rolled her eyes, clearly they'd paid as much attention to her as Abigail usually did.
Shaking her head, she focused on getting dinner ready; she'd deal with whatever the four of them had gotten up to later.
"I did ask them not to bother you," Cassie said quietly to Sam in the kitchen later on. He'd volunteered to do the cleaning up in payment for his board and lodgings, and she was kidding herself that she was supervising when really she just wanted to see if they could keep this façade of friendliness going. "But they're a little more like their cousin Abigail than you might think."
"That's both great and terrifying," Sam replied, setting a colander down on the drainer. Cassie reached for it, a towel already in her hand to dry it, but Sam took it from her. "No. You cooked so I clean."
Cassie wasn't going to argue with that so she held her hands up in surrender, but she wished she had something to do. She couldn't help but look at the way Sam's thin sweater was pushed up to his elbows, ropey, muscular forearms on show. It made her wonder about his tattoos again, but it was probably best not think about their semi-naked bathroom encounter right now.
Not when it was just the two of them.
"Uh, Cassie, where does this go?"
His question pierced through her thoughts and she was realised it probably wasn't the first time he'd tried to get her attention. Funny thing was, he did have her attention and that was the crux of the problem.
"Is this too weird for you?" Sam asked when the kitchen had been cleared, drying his hands and rolling his sleeves back down.
Cassie assumed he was talking about him being an unexpected guest at Grey House.
"No, of course not. Lucky that you live next door to a B&B, isn't it?" she joked.
"That's not what I meant, Cassie…"
Their eyes met and he felt that familiar jolt again – the one he'd never felt with anyone else.
If he wasn't careful he was going to kiss her.
He could picture it in his head: her lips warm and pliant against his, her body pressed up against the kitchen sink, his hands under that soft, soft sweater she was wearing.
He knew exactly how her skin would feel.
Fuck, he still wanted her more than anything.
He could smother it, bury it under whiskey, a good run, and a meaningless fuck with beautiful Blairsville woman, if he thought that Cassie didn't care about him.
But she wanted him just as badly.
He could feel it. In fact, the air in the kitchen was thick with it.
For once he was glad of Abigail's interruption, because her presence actually reduced the tension in the air rather that adding to it.
"The twins are asking for you," she said, her voice a little softer than normal.
"Oh, right," Cassie seemed to be shaking herself out of a daze, but she was grateful for the escape route.
"I'll, uh, make a drink?" Sam suggested, huffing out an equally relieved breath.
"No," Abigail continued. "They're asking for both of you."
Abigail wasn't sure she could put into words the look that passed between her cousin and her neighbour, but when it passed they both left the kitchen and she could hear the faint sounds of their feet on the old staircase.
She sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table and resting her head in her hands. Her head ached with the beginnings of a migraine, but the rest of her body throbbed with something else entirely.
The two of them would be the absolute death of her.
It had been a very long time since Sam Radford had read a child a bedtime story. His sister, Joanne, had never married so Sam didn't have nieces or nephews, and though some of his friends back in New York had children, his hours at the hospital had been too erratic to ever spend any quality time with his friends much less their kids.
And then Linda had stuck the knife in.
Although that still stung - hurt so much actually that he'd been reminded of her words twice in the same day - he was grateful now that they'd never had kids together.
But somehow, in spite of all that, Sam found himself being ushered out of the sleeping twins' bedroom, a closed paperback book pressed against his chest.
They stopped by the door so Cassie could take one last look at her peaceful, resting children.
"You're so good with them," she whispered, pulling the door closed behind them but leaving it ajar just slightly so that the soft glow of the hall light filtered in.
Sam blinked, and it wasn't because of the change in the lighting.
"James and Catherine," Cassie continued when Sam continued to stare at her blankly. "You're really good with them."
She said it almost as a throwaway remark, just a passing comment, and somehow that made it mean all the more to Sam. She was just speaking her truth.
"They're great kids," he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. "I like spending time with them."
"They like spending time with you, too," Cassie replied with a smile, deciding not to share Catherine's earlier comments with him.
Sometimes she wondered why he hadn't had children of his own, but she didn't like to ask. She knew his marriage had been as acrimonious as hers had been harmonious, so perhaps it had never been on the table. His work pattern could hardly made it easy to have a traditional family set-up either, though she and Jake had made it work around his erratic police schedule.
They lingered at the top of the stairs; Sam didn't know whether he should excuse himself and go to his room. He had journal articles to catch up on, and he could start his search for suitable properties in the area, but he liked the idea of spending the evening with Cassie and Abigail, maybe sharing a beer or a bottle of wine like they used to do before things got so complicated.
"Do you want to come down for a drink?" Cassie asked, seeming to read his mind in that way she often did. He was glad she wasn't privy to every single thought he had about her, though.
"Sure," he replied, not bothering with the awkward dance of asking if she was sure, or insisting that he didn't want to intrude on her evening, or Abigail's.
What he was learning about Cassie was that if she meant it, she'd say it.
Abigail was a little surprised to see Cassie and Sam come back downstairs together; they looked for all the world like two parents who had just put their children to bed. Even Abigail had the presence of mind not to mention this to either of them.
"Beer, wine, coffee?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at Sam at her last suggestion.
"Beer would be great," Sam replied, sliding into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He wanted to tell them about his plans, knowing that if anyone had any suggestions about properties in town, it would probably be the two of them; they just seemed to know everything. But caution told him to hang back. He and Cassie had just shared a lovely moment with the twins, and he didn't want to ruin it. There was no hurry anyway; he'd only just found out his mortgage application had been approved, there was a long way to go before a piece of real estate was really his.
"I have some news," Abigail said, joining them at the table when the drinks had been handed out.
Cassie looked at her cousin quizzically, she really had no idea what it could be. Maybe she was dating someone? Cassie often thought that Abigail seemed lonely, but hadn't liked to mention it, especially not since she'd broken up with Sam.
"The good or bad variety?" Sam asked, thinking that he'd been dealt about an equal hand of both recently.
"Good," Abigail replied, though she seemed to be weighing it up. It might be a little sneaky to drop this into the conversation when Sam was here, but at least Cassie couldn't accuse her of not having told her. "I think."
She toyed with the label on her beer bottle for a bit, scratching a piece of it loose with her thumbnail until Cassie, normally serenity itself, wanted to rip the bottle from her cousin's hand.
Finally she looked up, meeting Cassie's eyes straight on.
"I found another Merriwick."