Melt Your Heart

Chapter 30: Friends, Lovers, or Nothing

Cassie, finally granted some peace from her onslaught of visitors (okay, it had been two, but it felt like more - she supposed she should have been grateful that Martha wasn't one of them), now had time to properly mull over the bombshell that Abigail had dropped a few nights ago.

Anything not to have to think about the grenade that Ryan had just pulled the pin from and thrown at her feet.

Anything.

Another Merriwick.

More family.

It was everything she'd been looking for when she and Abigail had connected online, and it had been going so well so far. She felt truly at home here, and she and the twins already loved Abigail like they'd known her their whole lives. Cassie couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive about the arrival of another cousin, and whether it would change things.

It might change them for the better, she cautioned herself.

No one got to see this side of Cassie: the side of her that had doubts, that was anxious, that feared that perhaps things really wouldn't work out the way they were supposed to. This probably wasn't shocking from someone who had lost the love of their life and the father of their children while still in their thirties, but it would have surprised the people who were getting to know Cassie.

Except, perhaps, Sam.

He seemed to see through all of her carefully constructed defence mechanisms and she'd responded by…pushing him away.

So far away that he was thinking of moving house so he didn't have to, what, be reminded she existed every damn day?

The twins would be so disappointed to lose him; the new neighbour may take less kindly to having their upstairs window smashed in by a stray baseball.

And now Ryan thought she was back on the market again, like one of his precious pieces of real estate, just waiting to be snapped up.

Ugh.

Even when she was supposed to be thinking about the newest member of her family, her thoughts still somehow circled back around to Sam.

At least his plumbing was as good as new, and he wouldn't be lurking, half naked in one of their bathrooms anytime soon.

Or anywhere near Grey House at all, if Ryan was correct.

A horrible thought suddenly crashed into Cassie, leaving her having to steady herself against the table she was using as a makeshift workbench, what if he wasn't just moving house, what if he was leaving Middleton?

Or the state?

Or the country?

He was a single man (thanks to her), without any real responsibilities except to the hospital, so there was no reason why he had to stay in Middleton if he didn't want to.

But there was still so much unfinished between them, wasn't there? She still hadn't asked him about his tattoos, or his band, or why he didn't have children with his ex-wife, and now, really, none of things were strictly any of her business.

Because, as hard as they were trying to stay on friendly terms, they weren't really friends.

And now they might not have the chance to be anything at all.

At least the addition of another Merriwick in town would provide her with a distraction, and give the rest of Middleton something else to talk about because Cassie knew she couldn't bear if it they all started talking about Sam moving away.

She couldn't lose him, not so soon after Jake.

"How did Cassie take it?" Stephanie asked, bringing over Abigail's lunch order to her table.

"Um, okay, I think," Abigail replied, her fingers itching to pick up the perfectly golden, crispy Monte Cristo sandwich.

Stephanie frowned. This didn't sound like the Abigail she knew and… loved? She was always so sure about everything. When Stephanie had worried that inviting a complete stranger and her children to live with her was a bad idea, Abigail had batted away her concerns. Just because the brunette turned out to be right, didn't mean that Stephanie's reservations had been misplaced.

"When does she get here?" Stephanie prodded when she realised she wasn't going to get any more information out of Abigail without some form of interrogation - like pulling out her fingernails, or worse, taking away her sandwich.

"We haven't decided anything," Abigail replied, her voice muffled now around a mouthful of the best grilled cheese sandwich she'd ever eaten. "She's not sure what she's doing over Christmas and New Year's, so it might not be till sometime in January."

Stephanie nodded, she was intrigued to meet another Merriwick cousin. She couldn't help but wonder if cousin number three would be more like Cassie or more like Abigail.

"God Steph, this is so good," Abigail moaned, her eyes rolling in a parody of pure ecstasy as she took another bite of her lunch; all perfectly crispy bread and oozy melted Gruyère.

Her friend was an absolute enchantress in the kitchen.

Stephanie heard herself swallow as Abigail licked the grease from her lips (why she couldn't use a napkin like a civilised person, Stephanie did not know) and quickly excused herself back to the counter with a quick, "Glad you're enjoying it," thrown over her shoulder for good measure.

It would probably be safest for everyone if the new Merriwick was nothing like Abigail Pershing.

"Abigail," Cassie began, sidling up to her cousin so stealthily that the younger woman flinched. Were their gifts on the fritz today, or did they both just have other things on their minds? "Has Sam said anything to you about…"

Oh, wow. The words had literally died in her mouth; she'd always thought that was hyperbole.

"About…?"

"Leaving."

"Leaving?"

"You repeating what I say isn't really helping," Cassie observed, thinking she'd have gotten more sense out of her six year olds.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm a witch; I'm not telepathic."

They both made a face at that; the last thing they needed was to know each other's every conscious (or unconscious – or subconscious) thought.

"Okay, sorry," Cassie sighed. There could be no beating about the bush here, she was going to have to say it. "Ryan told me that Sam's looking to move house."

Abigail made a noise very much like a game show buzzer; it was uncanny.

"Have you considered the source?" she asked, scowling at her fingernails. She'd rather talk about Blairsville with Martha Tinsdale than waste a minute of her time on Ryan Elliott.

"Yes, of course. But he has access to that kind of documentation."

"Okay," Abigail conceded. "Maybe it's just him seeing how much his property is worth? Sam was a little ahead of the curve, but plenty of people are giving up big city life for a quieter small town."

Cassie shrugged, after all it was plausible.

"Or maybe he heard another Merriwick woman was coming to town, and he decided he couldn't handle all three of us?" Abigail continued, her eyes dancing playfully.

"Abigail," Cassie protested, but her cousin's teasing had helped to shift her perspective. "I can't ask him though, can I? Ryan shouldn't have told me in the first place."

Abigail shrugged a shoulder. "That's on him. He should be giving client confidentially a higher priority than his d-," she paused, coughed, continued, "dating life."

Cassie couldn't fight the smile, so she didn't bother.

"Okay, I'll talk to him."

Abigail drilled her with a look.

"To Sam." she clarified. "Thanks, Abigail."

"You're welcome."

They hugged, briefly. It was a little awkward, but they'd get better at it.

Cassie went over to Sam's house and tapped on the front door before she could lose her nerve.

"Who is it?" she heard him call, and he sounded a little grumpy.

"It's Cassie."

"Oh," he said, sounding considerably less peeved now. "Come in."

She pushed open the front door, and followed her instincts until they led her to his snug. And, although she'd found him straight away, felt that she had made a mistake.

He sat on the corner of a well-loved two-seater couch, his hair ruffled like he'd just dried it with a towel, a denim shirt rolled up to his elbows, and a vintage guitar in his lap.

This had very much been an error in judgement.

Cassie had never truly understood the urge to 'jump someone's bones' until this very second.

"I didn't know you play guitar," she said, aiming for a neutral topic of conversation, and sinking down into the chair across from him. He hadn't invited her to, but she wasn't sure she trusted her knees to hold her up for too much longer. "Well, I did, but you never told me."

"You never asked," he riposted, grinning at her as he strummed a few chords. His less than cheery mood of a few minutes ago had deteriorated the moment she'd crossed the threshold. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

Cassie blinked at him, because she had downright forgotten why she was here. But then it came back to her – a sick weight in her belly.

"So, you were right about Ryan coming to see me today…"

"And you want me to give you both my blessing?" It was a joke, or at least he'd meant it as one, so why was he suddenly holding his precious guitar in a death grip?

Cassie rolled her eyes at him briefly, before getting down to the real business of her visit.

"He told me that you've been looking at putting your house up for sale," she said, choosing to look down at the carpet. "And I just…if you're thinking of moving out – or moving on – I hope it's not because of me."

"Cassie."

She heard and felt every emotion he managed to convey by just saying her name.

"I'm not leaving town; I'm not moving house."

"You're not?" she asked and hope, pure unadulterated hope, bubbled inside of her.

"No," he said gently, setting his guitar aside on the cushion next to him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Unless you counted prison, when he was done murdering that lecherous bastard Ryan Elliott. Although, if he explained his reasons why to the jury, he had a feeling they might let him off.

"Okay," Cassie nodded, not wanting to give too much thought to why that calmed the nervous panic that had been building ever since Ryan had oh-so-casually dropped the news into conversation.

"I was going to tell you," he explained. "But it's very early stages yet, I really only went to see what kind of mortgage I could get." He was wishing now that he'd decided to risk Martha's wrath instead and gone to a realtor in Blairsville; he might never have heard the end of it from the mayor, but it would have avoided all of this.

"It's really none of my business," Cassie replied, starting to get up. "I just wanted to make sure that I hadn't run you out of town, or anything."

His mouth quirked at her attempt at humour.

"Unless you get a torch and some pitchforks, and rouse an angry mob, we're good," he told her. But he was touched that she cared. Too touched, probably.

Ryan, on the other hand…

He'd committed a serious breach of client confidentiality, but Sam figured that if he reported him, Ryan would just find a way to weasel out of it and Mike would get the blame, which he did not want.

"I'm glad you're staying," she said softly, finally freeing herself from the very comfortable easy chair.

"Yeah, you can't get rid of me that easily," he said, with a smile.

Cassie didn't want to go now either, but she needed to get back to the twins.

"I should go," she said quietly. "Sorry for barging in, and making you talk about things you weren't ready to share yet."

"Not your fault," Sam said, reaching for his guitar again, but not taking his eyes off hers.

Finally they broke eye contact, and he went back to focusing on his finger placement on the guitar. Cassie watched him, just for a second, unable to shift her gaze from the competent way his surgeon's fingers moved over the strings. Unfortunately she knew all too well just how dexterous those fingers could be, or perhaps not well enough.

"Goodnight, Sam," she said, making her way towards the door.

"Goodnight, Cassie," he replied. She'd already turned her back on him, so she missed his wicked grin as he began to play the opening bars of Because the Night.

Cassie doubted whether she'd ever be able to listen to Bruce Springsteen without imagining Sam's hands, and lips, on her bare skin.

And she didn't know if she even wanted to.