Page 95 of Dust Storm

Unfortunately, coping with grief is easier said than lived.

“Come here,” I said as I wrapped her up in my arms.

Cassandra folded against my chest without an ounce of fight.

“Don’t run away from me, princess. Not without leaving a glass slipper.” I kissed the top of her head as she laughed softly. “And if you need a healthy coping mechanism other than avoiding me, you know where to find me.”

Cassandra wiped her eyes. “I don’t think hooking up is a healthy coping mechanism.”

“I wasn’t talking about sex.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” she countered.

“I have firearms, hatchets, and throwing knives. Pick your poison.”

She looked up with curiosity in her eyes. “Do you have Tripp-shaped targets?”

I chuckled. “We’ll have to get a better printer in the office.”

To my surprise, Cassandra rested her head on my chest and closed her eyes as she sank into me. “How was Bree this morning?”

I raked my fingers through her hair. “A little skittish going back to class. She wanted to wear a turtleneck.”

Cassandra swore under her breath.

“She wore the necklace you gave her again. I hope that was okay.”

“It’s fine.”

I debated bringing it up when Cass was already feeling down, but Bree had been torn up when Cassandra wasn’t around to talk when she got home from school. “Bree missed you last night.”

Cassandra pushed away from me.

“Cass.”

“What?” she clipped as she reached for her overpriced coffee.

“You promised her that you’d be there to debrief when she got home from school.”

“So? She has you and a therapist. Sometimes I think you should have been a therapist instead of a cowboy.”

“That’s not the point. Don’t make a promise to my girls if you’re not going to keep it.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a kid person. I guarantee you, it’s a good thing I didn’t talk to her yesterday. I was a mess.”

“See, you keep saying shit like that, and yet I don’t believe you.”

Her eyes turned down to the coffee.

“As much as I try to turn back the clock, they’re not babies anymore.” I slipped my finger beneath the hem of her shirt and traced the skin along the waistband of her silk pants. “So, you can keep saying you’re not a kid person, but you know what I see?”

“I have a feeling you’ll tell me,” she mumbled.

I hooked my fingers around the elastic waist and tugged her hips against mine. “You’re a protector.”

Cassandra’s cheek pressed against mine as she whispered, “You think I’m a better person than I am. I’m just a bitch and I know how to monetize that.”

I tilted my head and kissed the corner of her mouth. “I think you’re a better person than you let yourself believe you are.”

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