Page 126 of Dust Storm

Thursdays were always hectic. Mom would pick the girls up from school when the bell rang. She’d take Gracie to dance class and Bree to therapy. Then, they’d swap. She’d pick up Bree from therapy and take her to the studio, where she would get Gracie and take her to the therapist’s office.

I didn’t know what I’d do without my family. Without this ranch.

Heritage meant stability. I had people around me that I knew I could rely on. I had almost lost Nate, then I had actually lost Gretchen. This land was my haven. It was where I could keep the people I loved safe. One day I’d pass it on to my girls, or Nate’s little one, or hell—CJ or Ray’s kids, if they ever found partners.

It was selfish to expect Cassandra to give up her life and take on mine. I knew that as soon as I asked her to make a choice.

But I couldn’t leave, and she was already here.

I pitched the rag into a pile that needed to be washed. Why was this shit so fucking hard?

I tried to date. I’d go out on the off chance that my mom let the girls sleep over at her house. Over the years there had been a few women I went out with more than once, testing the waters to see if it would last.

It never did.

Now, the one woman I actually wanted to stick around was ready to go.

The writing was on the wall.

More like on my desk.

Yesterday she had addressed a letter to the ranch—to me specifically—detailing that groundbreaking celebration would be her last day. After that, she would pack up and return to her life in New York, and be available remotely if needed.

And I couldn’t even get her in a room long enough to talk to me.

I cut the light off and pulled the door behind me.

Everything was silent.

It wasn’t uncommon, but it was unnerving.

Momma’s mini van was parked in front of her house, which meant she was back with the girls.

Mom would have Bree and Gracie taking showers, which left me itching to see what Cassandra was doing.

I trudged past the office, but the lights were off and the door was shut. I headed to my house and slipped in.

Huh. It was empty.

Momma must’ve had them showering up at her place.

But Cassandra wasn’t there either.

I checked the time.

5:30 on the dot—right when she always performed her disappearing act.

It wasn’t until I was nearly done making my rounds—checking the animals, refilling water, and making sure nothing glaring was out of sorts—that I realized Dottie was gone.

Curiosity got the best of me. I lingered in the barn, tinkering around in one of the empty stalls for over an hour. Just when I was about to give up and go home for the night, hooves approached.

But it wasn’t just Dottie.

I peered through a wood slat and watched as CJ rode in on his jet black horse, Anny.Short for Anarchy.He hopped down and, not a second later, Cassandra trotted into the barn on Dottie.

Jealousy bubbled up my veins like acid as I watched her dismount with the ease of a seasoned rider.

“Unsaddle and check her over,” Carson said. “Hang your shit up. Don’t leave it lying around.”

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