Page 39 of The Perfect Melody

“I don’t know,” I admit, knowing it’s not the answer she wants to hear, but I won’t lie. Not when she’s so vulnerable. It’s only right for me to meet her where she’s at with the same openness.

Surprisingly, it’s not uncomfortable. I’ve always struggled to talk about stuff like this. Growing up, I got so used to pushing aside how I felt to be what my mum and sister needed. It took me until I went to therapy in my twenties before I really had the tools to understand the tangle of feelings I was carrying around. Even after putting in the work I prefer to show how I feel with my actions rather than words, yet talking to Cassie is easy. So easy that it’s unnerving in its own way.

“Do you think shutting someone out of your life is OK? If talking hasn’t worked?” she asks.

Concern has me tightening my hold on her as though I can protect her from whoever the unseen threat is. “I think it’s important to do what’s best for you.”

“You don’t think it will make me a bad person?”

“No. If someone refuses to respect your boundaries, they’re the problem, not you.” I think about her lack of a permanent address, the fact she’s travelling without bank cards, the way she reacted to being grabbed, and my gut twists with dread. “Are you safe?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not like that.” She gives me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile, but it’s too wobbly to be convincing. “Really. It’s… complicated, that’s all. Family stuff and… other things. I’ll be fine.”

“If that changes, you’ll let me know.”

“I will?” she asks, the ghost of her usual sassy self in her expression.

“Yes.”

“OK. You really are a good person, aren’t you?”

The way she’s looking at me, like coming across someone with good intentions is as unexpected as finding a diamond in a box of cereal, tugs at my heart. My throat thickens. “I try to be, but like you said—I’m also a grumpy fucker.” She snorts a laugh, and damn, it shouldn’t be endearing, but it is. “Are you ready to come back inside? Not to work,” I rush to assure her. “You’re going home, but we can get you a dry top from the office first.”

“I can finish my shift,” she argues, somewhat undermined by her full-bodied shiver. “I’ll just need to eat something sugary first.”

Giving her my most unimpressed look, I reply, “Absolutely not. You’re going home.”

“But it’s really busy.”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I don’t want people to think I’m unreliable.”

“They won’t.” When she looks poised to keep arguing, I add, “Look, I know you’ve not been in town long, but we watch out for each other here. Nobody will mind.”

“Molly will,” she grumbles so quietly I almost don’t hear it over the downpour.

“If Molly has a problem, she can take it up with me,” I reply with more bite to my words than intended.

Molly’s attitude has been an issue all week, even after I had a quick word with her. If it continues through the weekend, I’ll need to have a more serious conversation with her about it. She’s been alright with the customers mostly, but I’ve overheard her being rude to Mei, Cassie, and Jamie more than once.

Softening my tone, I continue, “Come on. Time to get out of the rain.”

“Yeah, OK.” Cassie hesitates, then looks at me with a sheepish expression, a few dark strands of hair plastered to her forehead. “I might need a little help standing up.”

“No worries.” I get to my feet, then hold out my hands for her to grab onto so I can pull her up. “I’ve got you.”

* * *

Cassie

I’ve got you. The words play on a loop in my head as I follow Austin through the bar and towards the office, one hand still in his. I must zone out for a minute because the next thing I know, we’re in the office and Austin’s holding out one of the spare uniform t-shirts still in the plastic for me to take.

I stare at it blankly. Oh, right, he brought me here so I could change. My brain is slow to put the pieces together, but I finally register the unpleasant sensation of wet clothes sticking to my skin.

“Sorry, I’ll open it for you.” Austin pulls the top closer to himself so he can remove the plastic packaging.

I’m suddenly too tired to speak, so I nod instead. My body feels heavy, as though someone replaced muscle and bone with boulders. Unable to remain standing, I lean against Austin’s desk. He unties the string holding the size tag in place, then hands me the t-shirt. Wordlessly, I accept it. I should say thank you, but I don’t.