Page 38 of The Perfect Melody

“The rain.” Another shuddering breath. “Denim.” Her free hand fiddles with the hem of her skirt.

I nod. “Keep going.”

“My hair—it’s sticking to my neck.” Her fingers twitch where they rest on my chest. “Your heartbeat.”

Her breathing is almost back to normal.

“Three things you can hear.”

“Your voice. A car. My breathing—it’s… better now.”

“It is. You did well.”

She pulls back her hand, letting it fall to her lap. “How did you know to do that?”

“My little sister has anxiety. I looked after her a lot when we were growing up, and she started having panic attacks when I was a teenager—it made sense for me to learn how to help.”

She laughs, but it’s not hysterical this time, more… disbelieving. “It made sense?”

“Yes.”

“You’re really something, you know that?”

“I’m not sure I follow,” I reply gently, not wanting to upset her, but there’s no ‘not sure’ about it. I’m completely lost.

Cassie rests her back against the wall again, then, in a move that shocks me, leans into my side to lay her head against my arm. “You’re a good person, Austin.”

She sounds defeated, and I’m not sure if it’s because she’s reluctant to pay me a compliment or because the panic attack has drained all her energy. Maybe it’s both. Deciding to do my best to lighten the mood, I reply playfully, “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I guess I’m not. Not really. You’re grumpy as fuck, but you’re not mean.”

A surprised bark of laughter shakes my chest. She grumbles at the movement, so I lift my arm, tucking it around her shoulders so she can get more comfortable. Her pleased hum ignites a warm feeling of contentment in my chest. We’ll need to go inside soon—it’s still chucking it down—but I can tell Cassie isn’t ready to move yet. Another minute or two won’t hurt.

“You seem to have me all figured out, but I don’t know what to make of you.”

Her right shoulder rises and falls in the semblance of a shrug. “Neither do I.”

She’s quiet for so long I don’t think she’s going to say anything else, happy to let the heavy rainfall be the only accompaniment to our quiet breathing. “I came to Pine Grove to figure out who I am, but now I’m more confused than ever.”

“You’re young. It’s normal.” Gently, I brush my fingers over her upper arm, hoping to reassure her.

“I don’t feel young.” There’s a heaviness to her voice, a tiredness, that I don’t think is only because of the adrenaline crash she must be experiencing.

Staring at the rain falling in sheets before us, I search for the right thing to say. Honesty is always a good start. “I know what that’s like—to feel older than you are.”

I feel her head tilt up to look at me and turn to meet her sad eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I used to… resent it—feeling that way—but I don’t anymore.”

“How did you…” The tip of her tongue peeks out between her lips as she considers how to ask her question. “How do you let go of that? The resentment?”

“I talked to my family about it. Really talked.”

She shrinks in on herself at my answer. “What if you couldn’t talk to them about it, or if you’d tried and they didn’t listen? Would you still have been able to let go of it?”