Melt Your Heart

Chapter 34: Where Do We Go From Here?

Cassie followed Sam back down the main staircase, hardly able to keep up with his long strides. She didn't need any extra-sensory gifts to know that he was pissed.

At Joanne, at the very universe itself, and at her.

And she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

It seemed like she'd experienced the whole spectrum of human emotion today and, quite frankly, she was exhausted. But it was so nice to have the house full of people – people she hadn't even known just a few short months earlier. It was certainly different from the previous year's Thanksgiving and, truth be told, she'd hardly had time to think about Jake, much less miss him.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that either.

Deciding she needed a minute alone, Cassie watched Sam disappear back into the dining room and made her own way through to the kitchen. Surely, after the feast they'd put away already, no one else could possibly be hungry, so she thought the coast would be clear. She was too preoccupied with her own thoughts about Jake, Sam, and the whole situation with Joanne that she didn't notice the kitchen wasn't as empty as she'd assumed it would be.

"Hi, Cassie, I didn't mean to startle you," George apologised, pausing in the middle of covering the leftover turkey in foil.

"It's fine," Cassie replied. If she was going to have to share her kitchen solitude with anyone, she was pleased it was George. She might not know him well yet, but she felt calm in his non-invasive, fatherly presence. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be back here."

"Truth be told, I needed to move about a bit; shake down some of the food I've eaten," he explained, patting his belly with a wry smile. "Which was excellent, by the way."

"Thanks, George," Cassie replied, smiling gratefully at him and crossing the kitchen to fill a glass with water at the sink. She wasn't particularly thirsty, but felt the need to do something with her hands.

"Did you have any plans for the leftovers?" he asked and, turning around, Cassie could see the hope in his eyes.

"We'll probably be eating turkey sandwiches for the next week," she admitted with a laugh, but she was picking up on something from the older man. "Unless you have any suggestions…"

"Well, between you and me, I'm kind of known for my chilli recipe," George replied with a conspiratorial wink. "Martha may be reigning champion of the chilli cook-off, but people are just too afraid to say no to her," he paused and gave a chuckle. "Me included."

"That sounds delicious," Cassie replied. And it genuinely did, except she wasn't sure she'd ever feel the need to eat again.

"It is," George replied with such conviction that Cassie had no choice but to laugh. She was beginning to be grateful that she hadn't managed to have her brief period of solitude in the kitchen; George was just the antidote she needed. She could even feel the tension from her altercation with Sam slipping away, the stiffness easing out of her shoulders.

It was as if he could read her mind.

"Sam really enjoys it, too," he added.

Cassie was glad she'd already turned her back, her hand on the kitchen doorknob so that George wouldn't see the flush in her cheeks. She had a feeling he knew all the same, because it wasn't always just the Merriwicks who could see more than just what was on the surface.

Abigail tried to glance at her watch without it appearing too obvious what she was doing. Thanksgiving had been a raging success, she thought, but God wasn't it time for everyone to go home yet? Cassie had slipped away to put the twins to bed ages ago, and Abigail regretted not offering to take on that responsibility herself, but she'd seen how tired her cousin looked, and decided she probably needed the precious ritual with her children.

Wow, Abigail thought to herself, I'm getting pretty good at this.

"Hey," Stephanie said softly, leaning over and placing her hand gently on Abigail's shoulder so as not to startle her. Not that anything really seemed to rattle Abigail, like ever. "Looks like you've had just about enough partying for one day, huh?"

Abigail was absurdly, overwhelming grateful to the blonde and nodded enthusiastically, pushing herself up from the couch that was threatening to consume her whole.

"Let me have a word with Martha, okay, and we can probably get this whole thing wrapped up," Stephanie continued, her eyes scanning the room and landing on Mayor Tinsdale, who was propping her head in her hands, and looking like she wouldn't object to the idea of retiring home to her own bed; Tom was already snoozing in an easy chair.

"You're a Godsend, Stephanie," Abigail murmured, stretching her tired limbs.

Stephanie offered a warm smile in response, and then moved across the room to tackle Martha. Abigail was forced to admit to herself that, had the roles been reversed, she might not have done the same for her friend.

Rousing Martha worked like a charm, and Grey House was slowly emptying when Cassie came back downstairs from settling the twins. It had taken longer for the two of them to get off to sleep tonight, partly because of the sheer amount of sugar they'd consumed that day and the knowledge that the party still raged, or at least ambled, on downstairs without them.

She hoped to catch a glimpse of Sam and Joanne before they left; she'd already checked the upstairs room and found it empty, and they didn't appear to be among the stragglers still sipping red wine or picking at leftover canapes and desserts.

Cassie didn't like the raw feeling in her gut (which had nothing to do with the massive slice of pumpkin pie Stephanie had all but forced on her) from the way that she and Sam had left things between them. Their entire acquaintance had hardly been sunshine and rainbows, but this was different.

Perhaps she'd take George up on that offer of making turkey curry with the leftovers, and she could take a couple of bowls round for them both.

For now, she'd have to sleep on it, and pray that she wasn't visited by anymore vivid dreams.

Cassie was up and about early on the morning after Thanksgiving. Even though it had been a busy day, she'd woken at six and hadn't been able to get back to sleep. But she'd also not had any dirty dreams starring her neighbour as the leading man, so she called that a win. Although they'd eaten enough the previous day to feed a small army until Christmas, Cassie set about preparing breakfast for the guests. She put the radio on, and even hummed along a little as she opened a leftover can of cranberries to make her famous spiced muffins.

But there was really nothing to stop her thinking of Sam – or Joanne for that matter. Their relationship was complicated, and one she wasn't really equipped to understand not even with her natural empathy and her Merriwick gifts.

It was as if thinking of him made him appear.

"Hey, good morning," he greeted, popping his head around the kitchen door. "I saw your light was on."

"Hi, Sam," she replied, sensing that the weight that had been crushing him the night before had eased a little.

It also looked like his morning run had helped, but seeing him in her kitchen doorway, his face flushed, in his tight-fitting athletic gear – well, Cassie was afraid she was dreaming again. She really must add that to her ever-growing list of questions to ask Abigail. She knew her cousin would cackle with delight if she knew the truth – that was assuming she hadn't already guessed.

"I wanted to apologise for last night," he said, coming straight to the point in that refreshing way he had. "I shouldn't have taken my frustration about what's going on with Joanne out on you. Especially when you offered to help."

"It's okay," she replied, and she found that she meant it.

"I have a bit of peace offering," he said, looking sheepish, which had the unintended and unfortunate consequence of making Cassie want to kiss him just as much as she had when he'd been all brooding and intense in the hallway last night.

It was hard not to picture this scene as it could have been; waking up together; him going for a run while she baked a batch of muffins; eating breakfast with the twins (after a few stolen kisses, of course). Cassie was so absorbed in her domestic fantasy that she almost missed what the living, breathing Sam in her kitchen was actually trying to say to her.

"You want to what?" she asked, her words uncharacteristically blunt.

Sam couldn't quite smother his grin; the one and only time he'd seen her this distracted before was when she'd walked in on him standing shirtless in the Grey House master bathroom. It gave him soul-deep satisfaction that he could still have this effect on him, while simultaneously making his heart hurt.

"I thought I could take the twins off your hands for a while," he repeated. "Take them out to pick out a Christmas tree of their own."

Cassie swallowed, abandoning any attempt at making the muffins and wiping her hands on the back pockets of her jeans instead.

"I don't know, Sam," she said quietly, risking a look up at him. He was only the other side of the kitchen island, but he felt so far away and all too close simultaneously.

"Okay," he replied. He should have known it was a stupid idea, but he'd been playing it over and over in his head since Joanne had suggested it. "I understand."

Cassie could feel his disappointment, and it surprised her; he really did care about her children. That shouldn't be a surprise, but this was all new to her. The only other man to show a real interest in her since losing Jake had been Ryan, and she didn't think they'd ever had a conversation about her children.

She watched him hover awkwardly in the kitchen, for once unsure of himself.

"Wait," she said slowly. "Is this the family tradition that Joanne was trying to tell me about yesterday?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah, she mentioned it the other night, and it just brought back a lot of happy memories."

Cassie watched as the wistful smile on Sam's face brought out the laughter lines beside his eyes. He really was so handsome, and it wasn't fair. Not to say that she wouldn't have fallen for him if he'd been less good looking, it just made it harder to hold back from him.

"It sounds lovely," she said softly. "You must have a lot of happy childhood memories."

"I do," Sam replied, and couldn't but think how those happy, innocent years contrasted so sharply and painfully with the lost that Cassie's twins had suffered.

Cassie blinked against the unexpected tears in her eyes; she spent so many hours thinking about how unfair it was that her children had been dealt such a tragic hand so early in their lives, that she buried her own childhood memories. She'd been older when she lost her birth parents, so she'd had a better understanding of what was going on, which had made things easier and harder.

"Cassie?" His voice was soft, his hand gentle on hers. Again, she had become so enveloped in her feelings that her senses hadn't warned her that he'd gotten closer.

So much closer.

"Sorry, I'm just…the holidays, y'know…"

She was determined that she would not fall apart in front of him. Not because she was ashamed of her emotions, but because he might pull her into his arms and then she'd be lost.

"Of course," he replied, stroking his thumb over her knuckles and gradually feeling the tension ease out of her hand. "You could always come with us to pick out the tree, maybe start some new traditions?"

"Sam." Her tone was gentle, but there was a hint of warning there, too. She tried to withdraw her hand from beneath his, but she'd misjudged the strength of him.

"Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

"Yeah," she said, smiling sadly at him. "Yeah, I do."

"How did it go?" Joanne asked when Sam came back from Grey House. "Did she like the idea?"

Sam rolled his eyes affectionately. They'd both slept off their frustration with each other from the previous evening, and had adopted a precarious truce for now.

"How do you know I even asked her?" he asked, walking to the fridge to take out a chilled bottle of water. Why did all of the women in life seem to know everything before he did? It wasn't as if he couldn't take a hint.

"Call it female intuition," Joanne called back from where she was sprawled on the couch, still wearing her pyjamas with her robe over the top. Secretly, she wished she had been up to a run this morning, but she was still exhausted from her last trip.

Not that she'd let Sam know that, of course.

"Well, I asked her," he confirmed, twisting the top off the bottle and taking a long swig. "But she said no."

He crossed the room to join his sister on the couch, moving her legs so they could sit comfortably together.

"I'm sorry, Sam, maybe she just…"

But he gently cut her off.

"I don't think I realised how fragile she is, really. She's so strong and capable on the outside; moving here, taking care of the twins…I suppose I didn't see how much she's still grieving for her husband. I think we were both so wrapped up in this new, exciting, terrifying thing between us that I forgot how much she's still suffering."

He looked down at the bottle of water in his hands, surprised that so much had come flowing from him. He was close with his sister, but they didn't usually talk this frankly and openly about matters of the heart.

"You're a good man, Sam," Joanne said, smiling softly at him. A good man who was very much in love, even if he was in denial about it, she thought. "But where do you go from here?"

That, Sam thought, was the billion dollar question.