Melt Your Heart

Hey, welcome to chapter 29!

Thank you for the reviews etc on the previous chapter. Big shoutout to xfphilefor beta reading this one for me. Hope you enjoy it :)

Chapter 29: Two Encounters

Ryan Elliott strode down Main Street with a spring in his step and a song on his lips. If the rumour mill was correct, and he had every reason to believe it was (after all, he'd had it confirmed by the man himself), Cassie Nightingale and Sam Radford were no longer an item. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt happier, and even the cold stare Abigail had given him as he'd passed her flower shop hadn't wiped the smile from his face.

He hoped Cassie wasn't too upset though, and doubted that she was; they'd only been together for a hot minute anyway. It was typical of Radford; his affairs always seemed to burn out fast after their first flash of heat. As long as Cassie hadn't been singed by the sparks, then it didn't matter.

And, even if she had, well… he'd be there to make everything better.

His good mood quickly turned to glee when he got to work, poking his head around his colleague's office door to wish him a good morning. It startled the man so much that he kicked his desk, causing the file on the edge to actually bounce in the air and twirl in a semi-circle before it hit the carpet in slow motion, papers spilling out like a bizarre version of 52-Card Pickup.

"Oh crap, sorry," Ryan apologised, bending down to retrieve the scattered paperwork, stuffing pages back into the file at random. At least until he spotted a familiar name — the one he'd just been thinking about, in fact.

Trying to keep his face as impassive as possible, Ryan set the folder back down on Mike's desk and excused himself.

Why on earth was Sam Radford looking to buy a new property? Had Ryan underestimated the fallout of the relationship? Had it really been that bad, or that serious, that now Sam was thinking of moving house?

His thoughts were jumbled, and he was jumping to conclusions much quicker than his ancient work laptop was booting up. He was so anxious for answers that he mistyped his login credentials twice, cursing when the laptop bleeped at him.

It shouldn't be possible for a piece of technology to sound both smug and annoyed with his ineptitude.

Finally, fucking finally, he was logged into the system and accessing the shared files on the company server.

Yep. His eyes hadn't been betraying him.

Sam Radford was in the market for a new property.

Ryan could not wait to see the look on Cassie's face when he told her. He might not have Sam's runners' physique, or enviable biceps, but he certainly had a shoulder for her to cry on.

Sam strolled into Cassie's shop with a takeout cup of tea and a blueberry scone, turning down the radio so he wouldn't startle her too much.

"Hey," she greeted, pushing sweaty bangs out of her eyes and setting down her sanding tools.

"Hey," he replied, putting his offerings safely out of harm's way on the one table that seemed to have all of its legs.

"What did I do to deserve this?" she asked, peering into the paper bag with increasing interest, though she was considerably more intrigued by her visitor— or at least the reason for his visit.

"It's kind of a peace offering," he admitted, looking for somewhere to sit, or lean, and thinking better of it when Cassie cocked an eyebrow at him, and he did his best to look casually comfortable as he confessed his hopefully-small moment of stupidity. "I might have accidentally given Ryan the green light to date you."

"What?" Cassie asked, caught somewhere between astonishment and amusement. "Did you trade me for three camels and a yak or something?"

"I know, I'm sorry," he apologised with total sincerity. "That's why I got you the blueberry scone, not the plain one."

"Well, that makes it alright then," she replied, not quite sure what she was feeling now other than tired. No, not tired. Drained. And not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well.

It was bad enough that she was starting to regret getting out of bed this morning.

"In my defence," he added, having finally found a section of the wall that seemed both robust and not covered in paint, primer, or assorted grime. "All I did was confirm the rumour that you and I aren't together anymore."

"And dare I ask how that happened?"

Sam had the grace to look sheepish which, unbeknownst to him, had the unfortunate side of effect of only making him look more appealing.

"Well, Stephanie happened to ask how things were going, and if I'd got my plumbing fixed yet," Sam explained, realising even as he said that by telling the whole truth he was now implicating their friend as well. "And…well, I don't know what Ryan overheard, but he put two and two together, and decided it must mean we weren't together anymore. So, I told him the truth."

Cassie turned away from him, feigning a sudden interest in the cup of tea he'd brought. But, unless Sam was mistaken, he saw the flash of sadness in her eyes.

"Small towns, hey?" she said rhetorically, her eyes still a little mistier than normal and her tongue stinging from the tea that was really still too hot drink. It did made for a good prop, though; if nothing else, she could appreciate that.

"Tell me about it," Sam replied with a sympathetic smile. "I am sorry. You know I'm normally the last person who would engage in town gossip."

She nodded. "It's okay," she said softly.

They stayed in something approximating friendly silence for a few minutes, Cassie taking more cautious sips of tea now and Sam desperately trying not to notice that she looked just as good in a loose plaid shirt over a vest top and faded jeans as she had in that lacy, vampy witch's costume at the Halloween party. That seemed like a lifetime ago now, and it had barely been a couple of weeks.

"Do you want half?" Cassie asked, bringing Sam back to the present as she held out the paper bag like it was an olive branch.

"I bought it for you," he told her.

"But if I hadn't broken up with you, you wouldn't be apologising to me for telling Ryan I was single again."

Sam couldn't fault her logic there, and Stephanie's scones were to die for. They weren't a patch on Cassie's muffins, though. Or her oatmeal cookies.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'no'," he replied, accepting the piece that Cassie had torn off for him, but not expecting the buzz of static as her fingers briefly brushed against his.

They chewed in companionable silence for a while until the scone was gone. Sam really had no legitimate reason to stay, but it was rare he got any time alone with her, especially since his plumbing was fixed and he had no good reason to hang around at Grey House.

Just because he was always welcome didn't mean he wanted to overstay said welcome.

Dusting the crumbs from his hands, Sam wandered the space, taking in the work that Cassie had already undertaken and the work that there was still left to do. He'd like to help, but he wasn't foolish enough to offer. She would just see it as charity, or worse, pity. As much as it might pain him, he wouldn't say a damn word unless and until she asked.

"It's a great space," he complimented when he had circled the whole building, coming back to rest his hip against the table Cassie was working at.

"Please don't say it has potential," she replied with a wince.

"Why?" he asked, his blue eyes narrowed with curiosity before the obvious answer hit him.

"Ryan," they both said simultaneously, and laughed.

"I'm surprised he hasn't come by and pitched in to help," Sam commented, but there was no bitterness or jealousy in his voice; he knew that Cassie had no romantic interest in the other man. "Y'know, now he knows you're a free agent and all that."

Cassie raised an eyebrow at him but didn't say anything. She wasn't ready to joke about any of it yet, probably never would be.

"Anyway," he continued, unable to ignore the awkwardness which he was now at least partially responsible for. "I should leave you to it, but you know where I am if you need anything."

She nodded, thanking him, because she did know that whatever she - or the twins - needed, he would be there.

Or so she thought.

Sam hadn't been wrong; Ryan did stop by Cassie's shop on the way back from a late lunch meeting.

She sensed rather than watched him cross the threshold tentatively, as if the very building might fall down around him if he made a wrong move and wondered if there was anything in the Merriwick journals and books she'd found in the Grey House attic that might loosen a piece of plaster or a stray roof tile just at the right moment. But no, she was pretty sure that was the opposite of what her gifts were for and, though Abigail would no doubt cheer her on, she was not the kind of person who would use her own advantage against someone else.

Not even someone as pompous and full of hot air as Ryan Elliott.

"Hi Ryan, nice of you to stop by," she greeted him, setting down the piece of sandpaper she'd been using on a particularly stubborn section of old wallpaper.

For once, she didn't pick up on Ryan's desire for her as he slowly picked his way across the dusty floor in his Italian loafers. She probably did look a hot mess, she admitted, but she was renovating a rather large, bordering on derelict, building, not taking part in a Miss Chicago pageant.

Plus, Sam hadn't seemed to mind.

Not that his opinion mattered anymore, she supposed.

Well, it shouldn't.

Infuriatingly, it still did.

"Cassie," he replied, his usual smile in place but there was some reservation behind it. Should he have talked her out of buying this place? Possibly. He thought she'd hire contractors - big, burly male ones - and hadn't realised she'd have the time or the capacity to do the work herself. Especially now she wasn't dating Sam anymore. "You're, uh, certainly making progress."

Cassie laughed. "It's going to be a while before I can open for business, that's for sure."

That part didn't worry her. Yes, it would be great to actually get her business started and start paying off the loan, but she had a roof over her head, her kids were happy, and she and Abigail had the B&B and the flower shop as sources of income.

"Do you have help?" Ryan asked, stroking his chin and looking around dubiously. He made the same circuit of the building that Sam had, but with a lot less enthusiasm; where Sam had seen potential, Ryan just saw dirt and mess.

"It's just me at the moment," Cassie admitted. "But once I've cleared everything out, I'll be looking at getting a contractor and some builders to help me out."

"It's a big undertaking," he said thoughtfully.

Cassie had an uneasy sensation that he was actually implying that it was a big undertaking for a woman, but was too polite to say it. Which, given that she was armed with sandpaper, handheld screwdriver, and an actual broomstick, certainly made sense. And amused her more than it should have.

"Sorry," he said, shaking his head as if to remove the thoughts and reset their conversation. "The real reason I wanted to come by was to say I was sorry to hear that you and Sam aren't an item anymore."

Cassie was glad that Sam had already warned her of this, because the change of pace would have thrown her off track, Merriwick magic or not.

"Thank you," she said, fussing with the sandpaper so she didn't have to meet his eye; she was a little afraid of what she might find there.

"I could tell it wasn't going to work from the start," he continued a little sadly, surprising her again. "I don't think I've ever known Sam date a woman for more than a couple of months."

Cassie wasn't sure why Ryan was telling her this, but she doubted his motives were pure. And anyway, this wasn't new information to her; Sam himself had admitted as much and Abigail hadn't kept it a secret from her either.

"I was the one who called it off," she told him, sounding a little frosty to her own ears.

She saw hope, and surprise, flare in Ryan's eyes for a second.

"Oh," he said, frowning now and wondering if he'd gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick when he'd happened to overheard Sam and Stephanie's conversation. "Oh. Poor guy."

Cassie was starting to get annoyed, which wasn't a common emotion for her. She just wanted Ryan out of her shop, and she certainly wanted this conversation to end.

"It is what it is," she said, gripping the sandpaper so tightly she nearly rubbed the skin right off her knuckles.

"It makes more sense to me now, though," Ryan continued, oblivious to Cassie's discomfort. "I thought perhaps he was looking to get into the property market because you were looking to move in together, but you must have really broken his heart, or dented his pride, if he's thinking about moving house."

Cassie goggled at him, unable to hide that this was brand-new information to her. It just didn't make sense, and she knew her shock and surprise was written all over her face. No doubt the hurt showed in her eyes too.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything." This time his apology did seem to have some authenticity to it. "My partner was dealing with it, but I happened to see the paperwork on the copier."

It wasn't strictly a lie - okay, it was - but how he found out didn't really matter, only that he had.

"It's none of my business," she said softly, not realising that she had moved across the room, unconsciously ushering Ryan towards the door.

"No, no, of course not," he said hurriedly. "I'll see you around, Cassie."

She waved him off, letting the door swing shut behind him.

And if it happened to slam so hard that the glass rattled in its panel, well, it could be unpredictably windy in Middleton in November.