Page 16 of Dust Storm

“No. Grandma’s making dinner,” he said without skipping a beat. “Change clothes and wash up. How was dance class?”

It was strange, standing in the middle of an unfamiliar house, watching someone else’s life play out.

Christian was a dad.

I didn’t know why I was surprised. He seemed like the type.

That was when I realized there was a fourth person in the family photos on the walls. A woman—blonde and smiling—holding a toddler and a baby.

At some point, the photos turned to just Christian and the two girls.

“Gracie—how was your day?” Christian asked.

“Fine,” the smaller one said.

“Tell me about it. What’d you do in school?”

“I can’t remember,” she said nonchalantly.

He raised an eyebrow. “You were there for seven hours and you can’t remember anything you did?”

She shrugged again.

“Tell me with your words, not your shoulders,” he said calmly as he opened a backpack and started thumbing through a folder.

“I hate Macy. She’s the worst.”

The sharp look that shot out of Christian’s eyes surprised even me, but his tone was gentle. “We don’t say that we hate people.”

“Yeah, but she’s?—”

He lifted an eyebrow, and the girl clammed up.

“Who are you?” The older one had reappeared and was staring at me with curiosity.

The other one—Gracie—spun, realizing a stranger was standing in her living room. “Whoa. You’re, like, really pretty.”

I lifted my chin. “Thank you.”

Christian tucked Gracie under his arm. “This is Ms. Parker. Grandpa hired her to work here.”

Ah, the distancing language of someone trying to avoid taking responsibility.

“Cass,” he said, addressing me. “These are my daughters, Bree and Gracie.”

“It’s Cassandra,” I said, correcting him yet again as I offered a handshake to the older one.

She stared at me like I was insane, then gave me a sideways high-five. “Nice to meet you.”

“You don’t look like a ranch hand,” Gracie said.

Christian groaned. “That’s because she’s not. Go change out of your dance clothes and put something on to go up to Grandma’s.”

The room cleared out at the prospect of dinner.

When it was just the two of us again, I crossed my arms. “You teach your kids not to say they hate people?”

He tipped his chin up. “That’s right.”

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