Page 45 of Courting Trouble
She’d meant to hold herself together, like always. To be awall. But something in Delilah had crept in without Cassie noticing.
And that was the part that made her stomach twist.
She’d spent the last ten years learning to be untouchable, building walls so high she couldn’t even see over them. Not just because of Petra, but mostly… Well, yeah, actually. Because of Petra. That poisonous first love.
What began as coaching turned quickly into something intense and deep and very physical. Cassie had believed they were built to last. The dream team. Maybe not easy, but who wanted easy, anyway? Things were only valuable when earned. That’s what life had taught Cassie. And she’d been willing to keep earning Petra every day. She’d been willing to fight to love her.
Then Cassie’s elbow had given up, and Petra had ended it like she ended a drill, and with about as much feeling. And Cassie had been left gutted.
After that, she’d sworn off anything that could expose her again. There’d been flings, yes. Quick things. Things easily kept behind the wall.
But when Delilah’s arms closed around her, Cassie let them. Worse, she melted into them.
Afterwards, Cassie had quietly asked for some time alone and had come back to the cabin to lie here thinking. Delilah, with maximum respect, had not come back till after sunset. Cassie had turned to the wall and pretended to be asleep until Delilah was secured in the bottom bunk.
And here Cassie lay, hours later, pulling it all apart. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she muttered. She realised she’d spoken aloud, and she held her breath to hear signs of consciousness from beneath her.
A long, long pause. And then, a snore. Cassie breathed again.
This wasn’t her. She didn’t fall apart in front of people. She didn’t let anyone see her like that.
And yet…
Delilah was closing in. Cassie had thought she could hold her ground, keep the boundaries sharp.
But they were slipping. Everything was slipping. And for Cassie, that was just about the worst thing she could imagine.
Forty-Seven
Cassie was different in the morning.
Not rude, not cold exactly, just… clipped. Professional. Like the softness from the day before had been some kind of glitch in the system, and Cassie had rebooted overnight.
Of course, they did not discuss their moment. Cassie was pretending it hadn’t happened, and Delilah knew better than to call her on it. If Cassie was writing over it all, there wasn’t a thing Delilah could do about that.
But she was allowed to think about it. Cassie couldn’t stop that.
The solid weight of Cassie against her side, the faint tremor in her shoulders that slowed once she leaned in, the warmth of her breath at Delilah’s temple. For a heartbeat, Cassie had trusted her body to rest there, and Delilah had held her as carefully as she knew how, terrified of breaking the spell.
It hadn’t lasted long. But it had been real.
And now, with Cassie sitting across the table as though none of it had ever happened, Delilah held onto that memory, the only proof she hadn’t dreamed it.
Cassie cleared her throat, gaze fixed on her mug. ‘Serve again today. Focus on getting your toss consistent. Too many are short.’
Delilah nodded, fiddling nervously with the yoghurt lid. ‘Right… um… maybe my footwork? I keep… crossing over the wrong way.’
‘Mm.’ Cassie sipped her coffee, expression unreadable. ‘Ladder drills would help that.’
Around them, other players murmured over cereal and toast. Petra breezed in behind them like she owned the place, her eyes brushing over Cassie before she moved on to berate a Canadian junior by the coffee machine.
Cassie didn’t react. Not outwardly. But Delilah saw the tiny lock of her jaw.
‘She’s not worth your time,’ Delilah told her.
For a second, Cassie froze. Then her mouth parted, as if she was going to say something.
But then it snapped shut. Cassie rose, coffee in hand. ‘We’re on court in twenty. Don’t be late.’
