Page 66 of Whispers of My Skin

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A few minutes later, we’re outside the house waiting for Cassandra. As we see the lights of her car snaking up the driveway, we walk down the porch steps together to greet her, my hand in his, our fingers closely intertwined, and I’m happy we’re presenting a united front to his bitchy friend, since I’m very dubious about her motives in coming here.

It’s cool out, and the clear night sky above us is festooned with a multitude of twinkling stars. The air smells clean and fresh, and as I gratefully breathe in the tranquility of our surroundings, I suspect this is just the lull before the storm.

Cassandra gets out of the car and I have to concede that she does look very upset, with her tear stained cheeks and eyes shimmering with further unshed tears. She dramatically throws herself into Joel’s arms, forcing him to let go of my hand and step back from me.

“Hey, hey, easy now,” he murmurs, placing his arm around her shoulders. “You’re safe here.”

“Steven… he…” she sobs. “We had a fight… and he got violent... everything was so ugly, so… awful… I was so scared.”

Still with his arm around her, Joel turns an apologetic look my way, and I know what his pleading eyes are asking of me.

As much as I don’t like Cassandra, I try my best to be a decent human being. If she’s been abused by her husband as she claims, then of course I’m not going to argue about letting her stay.

“Are you hurt? What about the baby?” He pulls back to look her over.

She shakes her head, then goes to embrace him again, but this time he stops her.

“Let’s go inside,” he says. “Did you call the police? You have to file a complaint against him, Cassie. He abused you, you can’t tolerate that behavior.”

She stiffens instantly.

“No… no, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she quickly responds. “I just need a place to stay for a few days, while I look for somewhere else to live, something suitable for the baby.”

“Don’t worry, this is your home for as long as you need it, for however long it takes you to find somewhere,” Joel assures her.

Excuse me? What did my husband just say to the bitch? My tolerance does have its limits, and this most certainly is not Cassandra’s home. I can just about stomach her staying for a few days, but as long as it takes? No way.

I glare pointedly at Joel and he just responds with a ‘what else can I do?’ shrug.

“Let’s all go inside,” I suggest, feeling it’s time to make my presence known and take back control on what is my property. “Joel can make you some herbal tea to calm you down, while I prepare a room for you.”

Cassandra nods, noisily blowing her nose with more drama than I feel is necessary. I suspect she’s a pretty good actress and is putting on quite the show for Joel’s benefit. She’s behaving more like a grieving widow than a woman who’s had a spat with her husband.

“Take her to the kitchen and tell her to calm the fuck down,” I mutter to Joel as we walk into the house. “For the baby’s sake,” I hastily add, when he frowns at my less than sympathetic attitude.

I wish I could insist that he mustn’t spend too long with her, but I don’t want to seem callous and uncaring when Joel obviously feels duty bound to support his friend. I remind myself that Joel reined in his jealousy and tolerated Fermin staying in our home. If he can do it, then so must I.

I put Cassandra in a room on the second floor, on the east side of the house, separated from ours by a long corridor. Left up to me, she’d be in one of the most remote ranch worker’s bunk houses, but I don’t think would go down too well with the bitch and she’d only go complaining to Joel.

The room I allocate her is spacious and airy. When my grandmother was alive, it was the room she used when she came to visit us. And although it has no access to the terrace, it still has a very pleasant view over the grounds.

As I didn’t see any luggage, I can only assume Cassandra didn’t have time to pack anything before she left, so I put out a rather plain and definitely unsexy cotton nightdress for her to wear tonight. We’ll have to figure out how to get her things later.

When she and Joel come upstairs about half an hour later, I notice the slight bruising on her cheek and some scratches on her left arm as I show her to her room.

No matter how much I dislike the woman, no one should ever have to endure such treatment. Whether it’s the first time or not, her situation was impossible and she was right to leave.

Joel and I don’t talk much when we finally get to bed, and because I know he’s still brooding and angry about what’s happened to his friend, I just let things be. I’m sure it’ll be more productive if we wait to discuss the situation when he’s feeling a bit calmer.

When I wake in the morning, the bed’s empty and cold beside me. That’s not surprising since it’s already past eight, and Joel will have been up for at least two hours already. Ranch life is relentless and demanding, always starting before the sun rises, and Joel never shirks his responsibilities. He and Connor make a great team, but I know Joel always likes to keep his finger on the pulse and hates being over reliant on anyone.

I take a shower and get dressed, then make my way down to the kitchen, where I find Cassandra drinking a glass of orange juice and making herself right at home. When she sees me, she looks up and smiles weakly.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home,” she says. “It was very good of you.”

“You’re my husband’s friend,” I shrug. “It was the least I could do.”

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