Page 51 of Courting Trouble
She couldn’t stop thinking about Delilah.
Cassie had always been good at compartmentalising. That was how you survived elite tennis: learn to shove everything else into a locked room inside your head so you could win. That didn’t stop when she stopped competing. She’d been so good for so long. Now the locked room wasn’t locked. And the door was ajar.
Cassie didn’t even know when it had started. Was it the day of the hug?
Or was it earlier than that? The coffee?
No, earlier. When she came back from that injured ankle, having watched an insane amount of classic tennis matches, full of pep and questions. Was that the moment?
No, earlier than that. When Cassie gave her that talk in her car, and then watched her pull herself back together and head for the court.
That was it. The moment Cassie was done for. Great, mystery solved. Now Cassie could pinpoint the moment of her downfall. Great. Really helpful to know the moment she was fucked.
But what to do about it? If anything?
She wanted to tell Delilah. She really did. She wanted to say:I think about you all the time. I want more than this careful thing we’re doing. I want to know you. I want you.
But… there was always abut. Multiple buts actually.
One of those buts was that Delilah was in training right now. She was exhausted and under pressure. Cassie couldn’t add her feelings to the weight Delilah was already carrying. That wouldn’t be fair. Not now.
And anyway, what if Delilah didn’t want her back?
Sure, there was chemistry. That spark. The way Delilah’s gaze drilled down so deep. The blush that crept across her cheeks when Cassie got too close. The magnetic pull between them that made Cassie forget how to breathe if she wasn’t careful.
But Delilah could haveanyoneshe wanted. She was gorgeous and charming and funny and dazzling and completely unguarded in a way Cassie had never learned to be. People loved all of that. Therefore, Cassie was competing against the world. That was familiar territory at least. But it meant she didn’t know what she was up against.
Put another way, was she really enough? When all was said and done and everyone was in their tennis movies and no one needed a broke—in every sense—coach, what did Cassie have to offer someone like Delilah?
What if Delilah saw the soft parts of her and decided they weren’t enough?
The ball skidded off the wall and rolled into the net. Cassie didn’t chase it. She just stood there, hands on her hips, breathing hard.
Maybe what Cassie was feeling wasn’t something she was allowed to act on. Not while Petra was still circling, not while Delilah was trying to figure out how to be Tamsin Rowe, not while Cassie was still learning how to be someone who could let herself want this.
She closed her eyes.
It wasn’t the right time.
But the next time Delilah looked at her like shemightwant her too, Cassie didn’t know if she’d be able to hold it all in.
Fifty-One
The sun was low and hot, baking the clay and the back of Delilah’s neck. Her calves ached, and her shoulders were screaming. She was soaked through and probably dehydrated.
She’d never felt better.
Because she’d done it. The ball came in a little short, and Delilah moved without thinking. Side step, rotate, follow through. The stroke was smooth, properly timed, and the ball cleared the net with exactly the right kind of spin. No awkward bounce, no sad little wobble. It was solid. Delilah was solid.
Cassie let it go by. Delilah knew she could’ve returned it. But she didn’t. She just stopped and gave the smallest nod of approval Delilah had ever seen.
Delilah lit up. She threw her arms in the air, breathless with disbelief. ‘Did youseethat?’
Cassie was already walking toward her, brow cocked. ‘Yes, I did. That’s the training kicking in.’
‘Barely!’ Delilah laughed. ‘I think it was mostly panic and luck.’
Cassie walked around the net. ‘Nope. You practised. It was earned,’ Cassie said, a smile appearing. It was like the sun breaking through the clouds.
