Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Austin
Reggie and Francis came in for dinner, and I managed to stop by their table to say hi thanks to the lull at the bar. I’m wrapping up our brief conversation and planning to help run food orders until I’m needed back behind the bar when it happens.
It’s not that I’ve been watching Cassie.
I’m not some creep. I’m just… aware of where she is whenever we’re working a shift together.
She has a strong presence, that’s all. One I’ve been unable to ignore since she started working here.
Just as well, because with how busy Bowman’s is tonight, I could have easily missed the commotion at the border of her and Molly’s sections.
One woman from the birthday group gets up to take a picture, the flash of her phone’s camera obnoxiously bright, drawing mine, Francis’s, and Reggie’s attention.
Bright enough to make Cassie, who’s just turned away from her table and right towards the camera’s glare, flinch.
Then Molly, shoulder checks her—something we’ll be having words about later.
That girl’s attitude has been a problem all week.
Cassie stumbles back toward the large group of men she’s been serving.
Hands grab her hips as if to steady her, but even when she’s obviously regained her balance, they don’t let go.
My molars grind together as I watch the leering drunk tighten his grip, his fingers digging into Cassie’s hips and making her shrink in on herself.
Her body tenses as though she’s frozen in place.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Francis and Reggie, not waiting for a response. I won’t stand by and allow someone to lay hands on her—on any of my staff.
I’m still making my way over there when that bloody flash goes off again. Like an elastic band pulled too tightly, Cassie snaps, pushing the guy’s hands off her body and then running for the exit.
“Mum.” I put a hand in her path to get her attention, not sure she’ll hear me over the noise of the bar—it’s unusually rowdy tonight. “Can you do me a favour?”
Concern pulls her eyebrows downward, but she doesn’t hesitate. “Sure. What do you need?”
“Get Reggie to ask that large table of guys to leave. One of them got handsy with Cassie,” I explain before she has time to ask. They’re about done, but they’ve been drinking a lot. Mum could handle them no problem, but Reggie will help make sure they don’t argue.
“Got it.” She nods. “You’re going to check on Cassie?” she asks, already knowing the answer. It’s the only reason I’m not taking care of the troublemakers myself, and she knows it.
“Yeah, she didn’t look good.” Understatement of the century. She looked like she was having a panic attack. My sister Aria used to get them—I know the signs.
“Go. I’ll take care of that table then hop behind the bar if it gets too busy for Jamie to manage on his own.”
“Thanks.” I turn on my heel, striding for the back door without another word. Mum has everything under control in here.
A small group of people surges in through the back door just as I arrive. I wait impatiently, practically bouncing on my heels for them all to get inside and out of my way.
Snippets of conversation reach my ears, telling me it’s started raining, but I don’t care. Cassie’s been out there alone for long enough. I’m not detouring for a jacket, not when she needs me.
Cold, fat raindrops fall from the dark clouds above with increasing frequency as I look around. She’s not in the beer garden, but that makes sense—she wouldn’t want to be around people right now. Where would Aria go? With hurried steps, I walk around to the side of the bar. Then I see her.
My feet root me to the spot as I take her in.
Cassie’s short, only coming up to my shoulders, but she’s always had too much personality to seem it, even when we first met and she was shaken by the accident.
Not now. She looks so small, slumped on the floor, head between her knees.
Fragile. Her shoulders shake. At first, I think she’s crying, then I hear it. Laughter tinged with hysteria.
The sound jolts me back into action, and I take measured steps towards her.
She tilts her head to look up at the rainfall, and the look in her eyes cracks my chest open.
Cold rain makes my hair fall into my eyes and my t-shirt stick to my skin, but I don’t care.
Cassie is the only thing that matters right now.
It’s only when I settle down on the ground beside her that she notices my presence. This close, I can hear her laboured breathing over the heavy rain. Her breaths are too quick and shallow.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she replies around another sob tinged with hysteria.
“S-sorry I left.”
“Don’t worry about that. The only thing I need you to do for me right now is to take a deep breath. Can you do that?”
“I-I’m trying.”
“Can I touch your hand?”
She nods, the elastic holding her ponytail together slipping under the weight of her damp hair.
Taking her hand in mine, I place it over my heart, then take an exaggerated deep breath. “Focus on my breathing. Try to match it.”
Her breathing slows a little, but it’s still too shallow, and her eyes have that glazed, unseeing look Aria used to get.
“I want you to tell me five things you can see.”
“What?”
“Five things you can see, Cassie.”
“Um, the ground?”
I nod. “That’s good, keep going.”
“The ground. Dark clouds. My trainers. The wall. You.”
Her breaths are growing deeper, and her hand is no longer balled into a fist. Now her small palm rests flat against the drenched cotton of my t-shirt.
“Good. Tell me four things you can feel.”
“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?”
“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?”