Almost Lost. Блейк Пирс

it was that eventually it ended, even if it was with glass being broken or emergency services being called. But that caused other trauma and lasting scars. It also brought a sense of fear, because shouting and physical violence showed that you could lose self-control and therefore could not be trusted.

      That, in summary, had been her father after her mother had died.

      Cassie looked around the cheerful, tidy kitchen and tried to imagine what might have happened there between Ryan and his wife. The worst fights, in her experience, took place in the kitchen and the bedroom.

      “I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” she said softly.

      Ryan was looking at her closely and she returned his gaze, staring into pale, piercing blue eyes.

      “Cassie, you seem to understand,” he said.

      She thought he was going to ask her something else, but at that moment the front door opened.

      “The children are home, just in time.” He sounded relieved.

      Cassie glanced out the window. Raindrops were spattering the glass, and as the door slammed, a cold winter shower started pouring down.

      “Hey, Dad!”

      Footsteps thudded along the wooden floor and a slim young girl wearing cycle shorts and a green tracksuit top came sprinting into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw Cassie, looked her up and down, and then marched over and shook her hand.

      “Hello. Are you the lady who’ll be looking after us?”

      “My name’s Cassie. Are you Madison?” Cassie asked.

      Madison nodded, and Ryan ruffled his daughter’s shiny brown hair.

      “Cassie is still deciding whether she wants to work for us. What do you think? Will you promise to be on your best behavior?”

      Madison shrugged.

      “You always tell us not to make promises we can’t keep. But I’ll try.”

      Ryan laughed and Cassie found herself smiling at the cheeky honesty of Madison’s response.

      “Where’s Dylan?” Ryan asked.

      “He’s in the garage, oiling his bicycle. It was squeaking on the way up the hill and then the chain fell off.” Madison took a deep breath and walked to the kitchen door.

      “Dylan!” she yelled. “Come here!”

      Cassie heard a distant shout. “Coming!”

      “He’ll take forever,” Madison said. “Once he starts fussing with the bikes he doesn’t stop.”

      Noticing the plate of snacks, she made a bee-line for them, her eyes lighting up. Then, looking down at the contents, she gave an exasperated sigh.

      “Dad, you made egg sandwiches.”

      “Is that a problem?” Ryan asked, his eyebrows raised.

      “You know my views on egg. It’s like having sick in a sandwich.”

      She carefully selected a muffin from the opposite side of the plate.

      “Sick in a sandwich?” Ryan’s voice combined outrage and amusement. “Maddie, you shouldn’t say that kind of thing in front of a visitor.”

      “Watch out, Cassie, that egg stuff sticks to everything,” Madison warned, making an unrepentant face at her father.

      Cassie suddenly felt a weird sense of belonging. This banter was exactly what she’d hoped for. So far, this seemed to be a normal, happy family, teasing each other, looking out for each other, even though she was sure each of them had their own quirks and difficulties. She realized how tense she’d been, anticipating that something would go wrong.

      She hadn’t yet taken any food because she had felt self-conscious about eating in front of Ryan. Now, she realized how hungry she was, and decided she’d better have something before her stomach embarrassed her by growling audibly.

      “I’ll be brave and try a sandwich,” she volunteered.

      “Thank you. I’m relieved somebody appreciates my culinary excellence,” Ryan said.

      “Egg-cellence,” Madison added, making Cassie laugh.

      Turning to Cassie she said, “Dad does all the cooking. He just hates to clean.”

      “That I do,” Ryan said.

      Madison took another deep breath and faced the kitchen door.

      “Dylan,” she yelled.

      Then she added, in a normal voice, “Oh, there you are.”

      A tall, lanky boy strolled in. He had the same brown, shiny hair as his sister and Cassie wondered if he’d just had a growth spurt, because he looked to be all limbs and sinew.

      “Hi, pleased to meet you,” he said to Cassie, somewhat absently.

      In his boyish features, she could see a similarity to Ryan. They shared the same strong jaw and well-defined cheekbones. In Madison’s pretty, oval face she saw less of Ryan and wondered what the children’s mother looked like. Were there family photos anywhere in the house? Or had the divorce been so acrimonious that these had been removed?

      “You must shake hands,” Ryan reminded his son, but Dylan turned his hands outward and Cassie saw the palms were black with oil.

      “Uh-oh. Come over here.”

      Ryan hurried over to the sink, turned on the tap, and poured a generous amount of dishwashing liquid into his son’s hands.

      While Ryan was distracted, Cassie took another sandwich.

      “What was wrong with the bike?” Ryan asked.

      “The chain was skipping when I changed up the gears,” Dylan explained.

      “Did you fix it?” Ryan was monitoring the progress of the handwashing with some concern.

      “Yes,” Dylan said.

      Cassie expected him to elaborate further but he didn’t. Ryan passed him a towel and he dried his hands, grasped Cassie’s hand briefly in a formal hello, and then turned his attention to the snacks.

      Dylan didn’t say much while he ate but Cassie was impressed by how much food he managed to put away in a few minutes. The plate was nearly empty by the time Ryan returned it to the fridge.

      “You’re not going to have an appetite for dinner if you keep eating, and I’m about to make spaghetti Bolognese,” he said.

      “I’ll eat all the spag bol too,” Dylan promised.

      Ryan closed the fridge.

      “Right, kids, I need you to go and change out of your cycling clothes now, or you’ll catch a chill.”

      When they had gone, he turned back to Cassie and she noticed that he sounded anxious.

      “What do you think? Are the children what you expected? They’re good kids, although they can have their moments.”

      Cassie had liked the children immediately. Madison, in particular, seemed like an easy child and she couldn’t imagine there being any shortage of conversation around the talkative young girl. Dylan seemed more complex, a quieter, more introverted person. But it could also be that he was older, heading into his teens. It made sense that he wouldn’t have very much to say to a twenty-three-year-old au pair.

      Ryan was right, they seemed like easy children, and more importantly, he came across as a supportive father who would help with any problems if they occurred.

      Decision made, then. She would take this job.

      “They seem lovely. I’ll be happy to work for you for the next three weeks.”

      Ryan’s face lit up.

      “Oh, that’s great. You know, Cassie, from the time I saw you—no, from the time I first spoke to you, I was hoping you’d agree. There’s something about your energy that intrigues me. I would love to know what you’ve been through, what