Page 151 of Dust Storm

Claire, Silas, Nate, CJ, and Christian had established a rotating schedule of forty-eight hours at the hospital in Houston, and forty-eight hours at home. Two people were always with Ray, waiting. Hoping. Praying for him to wake up.

Christian and Nate had left to go back to Houston yesterday, trading off with Claire and Silas so they could rest and recuperate.

I had arranged the extra pillows on his side of the bed so it didn’t feel like I was completely alone, but I still found myself waking in the middle of the night, seeking his body.

The alarm clock went off again.

I hated that dreadful sound.

Just once, I wanted to go to bed and wake up whenever my body felt like it.

Christian swore up and down I’d get used to the ranch schedule, but I was months into it and I still hated every wake-up call.

But I refused to quit.

Swearing up and down, I rolled out of bed, tugged on a pair of jeans, and shouldered Christian’s thick jacket. It was the closest I could get to hugging him.

I slipped out the door, not bothering to fix my hair, and trudged to the stables.

Dottie, Libby, Anny, and the rest of the horses had the audacity to look at me like I was running late. The sun wasn’t even up.

I went through the routine of feeding and watering the divas, scooping food into Sadie’s bowl, then turned them out so I could muck the stalls.

By the time I kicked off the rubber boots that lived in the barn and plodded back to the house, the girls were rumbling around upstairs.

The smell of coffee hit me when I yanked open the door.

“I love you,” I declared to Becks.

Like most mornings when Christian and Nate were gone, she woke up to feed Charlotte, put her in a baby carrier, then walked down to Christian’s house.

She handed me a mug. “Don’t say that too loudly or Christian might change the locks so I can’t get in.”

I snickered as I downed half of the coffee in one gulp. “That would be true if he actually locked the door.”

Bree thundered down the steps first. “Morning, Miss Cass! Morning Aunt Becks.”

“Morning,” we said in tandem.

“What kind of cereal do you want today?” Becks asked while I pulled out the tackle box of hair supplies.

Bree grabbed the milk from the fridge. “Lucky Charms.”

“Girl after my own heart,” Becks said as she reached into the top of the pantry and pulled the box down.

“We’re almost out of milk,” Bree said as she filled her bowl with cereal, and topped it with milk. She brought it to the table and sat in front of me.

I went to work on the tumbleweed on top of her head.

Truthfully, I always thought it was a little strange that Christian still did his children’s hair every morning. They were both big enough to do it themselves.

But ten mornings in, I realized that this was his intentional time with them each day. I knew it was eating at him to be away from them. But, for once, I wanted him to be able to sit with his family in crisis, rather than having to truck through to keep things running.

“I’ll pick some up after I drop you guys off at school. I’ve gotta get lunch stuff.” I parted her hair and started a neat Dutch braid. “Do you need anything for your house, Becks?”

She looked a little sheepish. “Toilet paper, if you don’t mind. That’s really why I was down here so early today.”

Bree and I laughed.

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