Page 78 of Courting Trouble
Cassie looked at her. ‘If you couldn’t act, would you want to be around actors? Watch them thrive?’
Delilah gave a half-shrug. ‘That’s an actor’s life. You keep struggling while other people leap ahead. And sometimes, they’re not even the ones who deserve it.’
‘But you’re getting your shot now. That’s never going to happen for me.’
Delilah studied her. She could see that Cassie had built a wall and cemented herself behind it. It wasn’t her place to chip at it. But she couldn’t help herself.
‘That doesn’t mean you can’t find good in it anymore,’ Delilah said quietly.
Cassie gave a humourless smile. ‘It does. There’s no comeback from this. Not for me.’
‘So that’s it? You just… shut the door?’
‘I don’t have a choice.’
Delilah felt almost angry now. ‘Youdo. It just doesn’t look the way you thought it would.’ She softened. ‘You’re still that player, Cass. Even if you never hit another ball. And you could teach someone else how to use everything you have.’
For a long moment, Cassie just stared at her, unreadable. Then she looked away. ‘You make it sound so easy.’
‘It isn’t. But it’s better than pretending you’re already done.’
Cassie’s nostrils flared. ‘Look, I… I just think it’s better to train idiots who don’t care about tennis.’
Delilah was going to retort that—even though she wasn’t sure how—when someone knocked on the car window nearest her. ‘JESUS!’ she exclaimed. She turned to find Whitney’s angry face at the window.
‘You’re late!’ she said. ‘Get out of the car. I don’t have all day.’ Then she stormed off to the courts.
Once Delilah’s heart had climbed back into her chest, she turned back to Cassie. ‘She’s bloody eager.’
Cassie laughed. ‘Yep. She’s a killer. You ready to use that?’
Delilah sighed and got out of the car, grabbing her gear from the back. ‘OK, then,’ she said as they approached the court. ‘Let’s do this one more time.’
Seventy-Six
Delilah was out there with Whitney again, and from the first rally, Cassie could see the difference. Whitney had turned up another gear. Her footwork was sharper, her timing cleaner. Cassie wasn’t that surprised. She’d suspected this was in Whitney. Like Delilah, she just needed someone across the court to piss her off and click, talent unlocked.
Delilah was chasing shadows. Too slow to the wide balls, late on the return, pushed back behind the baseline again and again.
But she wasn’t folding.
She kept scrapping for every point, stretching, lunging. She didn’t care that she was outmatched. She kept playing every point to its bitter end. Cassie could tell she was even enjoying it at moments.
When Cassie thought back to Delilah’s starting point, it was night and day. This wasn’t the girl who used to fold after a few ugly errors. This was someone who had decided to stay in the fight, even if the fight was hopeless.
Whitney nailed winners past her, again and again, but Delilah didn’t sulk, didn’t slump. She had a funny little grin on her lips, like she was glad to be tested. Like the losing didn’t matter if she could drag one more ball back, make Whitney earn it one more time.
She was outmatched, yes, but Cassie could see the foundation, the automatic footwork patterns, the racket angles that came out under pressure without her even thinking. Delilah had real technique buried in her muscles, surfacing even when fatigue pulled at her.
It was gratifying to see. Cassie made an experienced amateur-level player out of her. Cassie thought she might even have been at a point of being able to keep pace with a few pro players who she’d seen go out in the first round or two at tournaments back in the day. She was a decent amateur. But she had the heart of a Wimbledon winner.
No one would know Delilah hadn’t grown up on the courts if Delilah didn’t want them to. Cassie felt proud of herself for pulling this out of her in just under six weeks, and proud of Delilah for getting there against all odds.
But watching Whitney made her feel a totally different way. Because Delilah had been right. Watching Whitney’s fire, Cassie could see herself at that age. Reckless and hungry. And yes, what Delilah had said to her in the car was playing on Cassie’s mind. But the thought of being the one to teach that kind of player, of shaping that energy into something unstoppable, both thrilled and terrified her.
***
By the time it ended, Whitney had taken Delilah apart. Point by point, game by game, she’d worn her down until the scoreline was brutal. Cassie had seen plenty of players leave the court crushed after something like that. But Delilah wasn’t. She walked off flushed, sweaty, and tired. But her chin was up, her stride steady. She’d played her best, and she knew it.
