Martin had known what to say while Cassandra hid behind careful explanations. Now her hands muffled sobs she could no longer contain, and he could not think of a single way to reach her. He had wanted her to stop making choices for everyone else and calling it protection, but he had never wanted to see her fall apart.
Katherine rose from the couch, rested a hand between his shoulder blades, and gave him a gentle push.
"Go to her."
Martin crossed the living room and knelt in front of Cassandra's chair.
"Cassandra."
He reached toward her wrists, then stopped before touching her. Cassandra lowered her hands on her own. Her tear-filled crimson eyes searched his face, uncertain whether he meant to comfort her or pull away.
Martin opened his arms and waited. After a moment, Cassandra leaned into him, and he drew her against his chest. She went rigid in his arms, her hands trapped awkwardly between their bodies as a tremor ran through her shoulders.
